#Also I love you farm AU but drawing animals physically hurts me

[ultrabananapudding]

Farm!AU | Clarachel Edition

In which the Marines own a Farm and Rachel, the owner, develops a (very obvious) crush on the local Vet.

Bonus:

[starlightsearches]

A New Life Pt. 4

Whoops, I said that there would be no more of the Kylo Ren soulmate AU but apparently I lied! This came to me earlier today and I had to write it. Hope you like it! 

(Here’s the first part, second part, and third part if you missed them)

Requests are closed for now ✨

Kylo Ren X female reader soulmate! AU Pt. 4

AN: Some language, and it’s vaguely NSFW towards the end! 

Ren never touched you first. Not in private, and certainly not in public. It was a compromise of some kind, you assumed, that he had made with himself. You knew he worried about it, even now—the ridiculous notion that he would somehow scare you off, that he would hurt you. So you initiated all contact, and you were gentle, and you let him be gentle. You weren’t too bothered by it. After all, there were exceptions to every rule.

When the general was around, Ren was always touching you. Holding you by the waist, resting a hand on your shoulder, at the back of your neck: if General Hux was in the room, you were never out of Ren’s reach. This was true now, too, his hand solidly on your back at your waist as you board the transport, headed to Ryyn with Phasma and the general.

It’s exciting, to finally go somewhere, to have the opportunity to be somewhere besides the Finalizer. Ren left the ship fairly often and the time you spent by yourself—sometimes for weeks on end—was . . . boring. Lonely. When he had mentioned that he would be going off base again after only returning a few days ago, you had been crushed, a feeling that had been immediately replaced with joy when he had asked if you would like to join him.

The general had grumbled, of course, when he saw that you would also be coming but you paid him no mind. He was always complaining about something, making snide remarks when you were there, and even though it drove Ren crazy, you could see through the act; the man was very obviously lonely. He tried to hide it, and did hide it successfully, from Ren and the captain. But not from you.

Against your better judgement, you liked the general, or at least, you found him interesting. He may have been rude and judgemental, but it was hard for you to take him seriously. He reminded you sometimes of the zeefas your family had kept for milk and meat back home—grumpy old animals, but harmless enough. You had a knack for working with livestock like that; it never took long before even the most stubborn of them were eating out of the palm of your hand. Apparently your charms were limited to farm life; despite the concerted effort you had put into being as inoffensive as possible, the general showed no signs of warming up to you in the slightest. Which was too bad, because part of you believed that—if he gave you a chance—you might be friends. And you’d really like to have a friend.

You take your seat on the transport, strapping in, and Ren sits beside you, only letting go of you for a moment to secure his own restraints before replacing his hand on your knee. Hux rolls his eyes, finding a seat on the other side and Phasma joins him. The anticipation in your chest only grows more potent as the pilot prepares for launch, and you can hardly wait for what was in store. You were going to Ryyn—a place you had only heard about in wild stories—to the capital city Cearrau; you would be staying in the palace there. You would meet the queen and attend the ball she would hold in honor of the First Order guests. You would wear the dress you had picked out especially for the event, blood-red and beautiful, and you would be on Ren’s arm the entire night. It was sure to be incredible.

“I still don’t see why you’re coming,” Hux says, leveling a glare in your direction, and Ren’s grip tightens on your knee. He’s ready to spit out some retort, you can tell, but you stop him with a hand gently rested on his arm.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, and he relaxes minutely before you address the general, “I’m actually very excited for the trip, General. I think it will be interesting.” Hux scoffs in response and opens up his data pad, choosing to ignore you.

Everyone settles into their seats as the ship launches and you decide to distract yourself, pulling out your sketchpad and a stylus, tapping the end of it against your mouth, deep in thought. You could draw Ren, of course, but you had plenty of drawings of him, stacks and stacks of them—enough to cover the walls of your quarters if you wanted. You didn’t even need a reference anymore, the exact shape of his nose and the planes of his cheeks appearing easily to you from memory. You need something new, some kind of a challenge.

The general was obviously out of the question, for a number of reasons. For one, he isn’t sitting still enough for you to complete a proper sketch, shifting from one position to the next every few minutes, engrossed in something on his data pad. Plus, you’re afraid of what would happen if he caught you, what insult he would come up with that would send Ren into a rage. Not worth the risk. The captain, on the other hand, might work. 

She is lounging, her helmet resting on the wall behind her, maybe sleeping—it’s difficult to tell with the mask on, but her pose is dynamic and the reflection of the lights in her chromium armor adds depth and shadows where there are none. Your hand begins to move across the flimsi without your direction, working to capture the cool authority she always seems to emanate.

Ren dozes next to you, occasionally rolling his head to the side to check your progress, drumming his fingers lightly against your thigh in approval. The likeness is pretty good, although it’s lacking something in your opinion. You wish that you had brought your paints with you; maybe you’d have better luck communicating the shine of her armor in a different medium.

“What are you doing?” General Hux says, and you can feel the pressure of his gaze on you, although you don’t return it, still focused on the captain.

“Sketching,” you respond, adding a little depth in the background, “but I can stop if it’s bothering you.” 

“Sketching?” he asks, and for the first time since you’d met him, there is no trace of disdain in his voice. In fact, he sounds intrigued. You place the stylus behind your ear, passing him the sketchbook, and he reaches for it skeptically. You watch him closely as he studies the drawing, waiting anxiously to see how he’d react. 

“Hmm,” Hux says after a long moment, returning the book to you and studying you with his eyes narrowed, like he’s trying to read something from a distance, “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Home,” you say, trying your hardest not to seem too eager now that he had initiated a conversation, “my father was an artist.”

“I thought both of your parents were farmers,” the disdain is back, but cracking a little, a glimmer of genuine interest showing through, and you laugh gently to show that you’re not offended.

“We’re all farmers where I’m from, but he spends his free time drawing. Painting, too. I usually prefer paints, but they’re difficult to transport.” You stop yourself, looking at your drawing again, afraid that you’re rambling, and the general sits in silence for a moment, his eyes still on your sketchbook.

“I could paint you,” you venture, not wanting to lose the tenuous connection you had created,” if you want, when we get back to the Finalizer? You have such striking features; I think they’d translate well to the page.” You’re laying on the praise very thick, you know, and you’re worried it will come off as too much, but the general flushes pink, and you smile, the thrill of victory sharp in your veins. Was this all it would take to endear the general to you? To make him stop hating you? You wish you had known that weeks ago.

“That would be fine,” Hux responds, with a small cough, guarding his expression against your obvious cheer, but your spirits cannot be dampened by his apparent indifference. Pleased, you go back to sketching, another one of Ren this time, happy with the progress you’ve made with Hux. Happy, that is, until you notice that Ren had pulled away from you, releasing his grip on your leg.

The ship drops out of light speed and begins to make its approach, but you take no notice, a coldness settling beneath your skin. You nudge him gently with your knee, but there’s no response. He’s motionless, quiet, staring forward with an obstinate amount of determination, and he stays this way, avoiding you as the four of you make your way out of the transport. You can’t help but notice that Ryyn is beautiful, the warmth and the wind greeting you as you step out onto the palace grounds, but the heat the sun offers refuses to clear away any the chill you feel.

After parting with Hux and Phasma, you and Ren are led by a servant to your guest quarters, and you prattle nonsensically as you walk hoping to put the man at ease—and hoping to release some of your own nerves as well. Ren says nothing, silent as a shadow, and you watch as the palace’s other inhabitants steal glances from around corners as you pass, eager to get a glimpse of the infamous Jedi Killer.

The room is lovely—and enormous—with large, open windows and an even larger balcony, overlooking the valley below. You move tentatively towards the view, but Ren doesn’t join you, choosing instead to stand ominously in the center of the room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, sitting on the bed and running your hand over the covers. There’s distance between you, not only physical, and you want to address it now before it grows. Was he really so mad that you had spoken to Hux?

“It’s nothing,” he says, but he’s still wearing the mask, and you assume it’s to keep you out. This is the first time you’ve seen him like this, and it’s beginning to scare you. This was how he acted with other people, not with you.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you say, standing from the bed but moving no closer, “please? I know you’re angry with me. I want to make it right.” He faces away from you, his powerful shoulders rolling as he moves to lift the helmet from his head, discarding it on the floor with a thud. The sound makes you jump, and you watch him perceptively, hoping to read the answer to your question in his expression, but he still guards his face from you. “Why don’t you go find the general?” he says harshly, and you catch the barest glimpse of his profile as he looks over his shoulder, “since you find him so interesting.” Your jaw drops in shock.

“Are you jealous?” you ask, and he doesn’t respond, but you can tell that you’re right. Despite the tension, a smile threatens its way onto your face and you smother it with your hand.

“It’s not funny,” he says, picking up thoughts but still avoiding your eyes.

“I know it’s not,” you respond, back in control of your mind and your expression, “I’m just surprised.” He laughs, but there’s no joy in it, a short, angry sound that bounces back at you off of the polished walls. 

“I just don’t want him to hate me, that’s all,” you say, quietly. You’ve seen Ren angry before, but never like this. Never at you. But there’s something else besides anger, and that’s what scares you more. You can feel it roll off of him, see it clearly in his posture; he’s doubting your love for him.

“You know you have nothing to worry about, right? I could never want someone else the way I want you.” His shoulders relax slightly, and you’re able to breathe again, now that he’s listening to you. It’s difficult to see him this way, catching brief glimpses of his fears. He thinks you’ll leave him, but that would never happen. You repeat yourself once again, hoping that this time he’ll finally believe what you’re saying. “I only want you.”

Those words work like magic, or maybe it’s the feeling behind them, but either way the doubt is gone, and he’s facing you with a look in his eyes like pure sin, his anger transformed into something else. You hold his gaze and the intensity of it goes straight to the space between your legs, weakening you at the knees.

“How?” he asks, stalking towards you, impossibly large and your heart beats loudly in your chest. You feel for a moment in some wild part of you that you should run, but you're frozen in place, and you like it. A lot. Now this is a side of him you’ve never seen before.

“How what?” you ask; your voice shakes when you speak. He laughs, low and deep and through his teeth as he bites one glove off and then the other, a warm hand finding its way to your waist and gripping the fabric of your dress tightly, pulling you closer. The first point of contact.

“Tell me how you want me,” he whispers, staring you down with his unfathomable eyes, his tongue darting out over full, pink lips. There are no thoughts in your head now, your mind is completely empty and for a moment you try to remember how you landed yourself in this particular situation. Maybe, if you remember, you’ll be able to work him up like this again.

He steps closer, his body like a brick wall against yours and you stumble backwards, falling onto the bed with a light bounce, propped up on your elbows, still in shock that he’s acting this way, and that you don’t want him to stop. He smirks, gripping both of your knees with burning fingers, sliding his hands under the hem of your dress and climbing up your thighs, leaning in close over you to whisper in your ear.

“Tell me what you want,” he says again, and the feeling of his mouth on your ear sends vibrations through your whole body; your eyes roll back with anticipation.

“Fuck,” it’s the only word that you can think of right now, your mind wholy preoccupied by the feeling of his thumb as it traces small circles over the skin your inner thigh, inching ever higher.

“That’s what I thought,” he kisses you hard, hard enough to bruise and you moan, open-mouthed, a deep, desperate sound you had never made before.

“Shit,” you mumble, and he doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath before he’s moving, his mouth working down your jaw and to your chest with hot, harsh kisses. You try to relax into it, into the work of his hands, still below your skirt, but he draws a yelp from you when you least expect it, biting at the skin just above your breast. He looks up at you, anger from before gone and replaced with a strident need, daring you to beg for more.

“Someone might hear,” you say quietly, your voice hitching slightly with the movement of his fingers. The windows are open after all, and with the way he’s acting, you know you won’t be able to stay quiet.

“I hope they do,” he says, nudging a space between your knees with his shoulders, finding a place between your legs. “I hope they all hear you begging for me, and I hope that by the end of it everyone on this damn planet knows that you’re mine.”

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, Chapter 1

A manorian high school AU

Words: 1688

Warnings: This chapter contains mentions of both physical and psychological abuse.

AO3 Link: Click here

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn't let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

And we climbed onto the roof of the museum

And someone made love in the grass

And I forgot my name

And the way back to my mother’s house

-Florence + The Machine, South London Forever

Dorian Havilliard had never been happier to be with his friends. He was currently standing in Aedion Ashryver’s kitchen, drinking a beer and chatting with Chaol. The final third of their trio was busy sucking face with Rowan Whitethorn.

A lot has changed while I was away, he thought.

While his friends had been here - going to parties, hooking up with people, making memories - Dorian had been stuck at his family’s summer house, 700 miles away.

He knew he shouldn’t complain, it was a nice house - with a pool and everything - but if he had to take another day of his mother being wine drunk by 3pm, his little brother’s tantrums or his father’s extremely racist, sexist and homophobic comments he would go crazy.

Of course, not everything about his summer had been bad, but he didn’t want to think about that now.

Instead, Dorian leaned back and took another sip of his beer, enjoying the fact that he was back. «I am not drunk enough to watch this,» he said to Chaol, nodding towards Aelin and Rowan, the former now licking - actually licking - the latter’s neck.

«I know, gross right?» Chaol said, mimicking himself throwing up and earning a chuckle from Dorian in the process.

«When did this even happen?» he asked. Last time Dorian had checked, Aelin hated Rowan. Thinking back on how she always complained about the star quarterback being an annoying pain in her ass with his alpha-male bullshit, Dorian couldn’t quite fathom the sight before him.

Chaol looked towards them again with a disgusted look on his face. «No idea, I think they hooked up over the summer,» he replied, turning towards Dorian. «How about you? Met any cute girls?» Chaol wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis.

«Ehm..no,» Dorian replied quickly, finishing his drink.

Liar, he said to himself. He had hooked up with someone. Had even been in a relationship, brief as it was. That relationship had been the only good thing about his summer, the only thing making it bearable. Yet he couldn’t get himself to tell his friends about it. He couldn’t get himself to utter the words:

You know what? I did hook up with someone over the summer. His name was Vaughan and he looked like a god. Oh, I’m bisexual by the way.

Dorian had known for a few years now, but he still hadn’t come out to his friends. It shouldn’t have been this hard - he was living in 2019 after all - and they had been a trio for as long as he could remember. Dorian knew they would support him no matter what, but he couldn’t get himself to say it.

His spiraling train of thought was thankfully interrupted when Aelin finally came strolling into the kitchen.

«What’s up, losers,» Aelin announced, hopping onto the counter. She tried giving them her usual smirk, but all snark and bravado was replaced by blushing cheeks and a huge grin.

Chaol handed her a drink, before saying: «Who are you and what have you done to our Aelin? I can literally see hearts in your eyes.»

Dorian expected some sassy comeback, but she just giggled, looking towards the backyard where her boyfriend stood, talking to his friends.

Oh yes, things had definitely changed over the summer.

«I’m in love,» she declared, flinging her arms out and nearly hitting Dorian in the chest. «You should try it sometime,» Aelin continued, winking at Chaol.

There is the Aelin we know and love, Dorian thought.

She turned her gaze from Chaol to Dorian, giving him a once over.

«You,» she said - pointing at Dorian - «got hot over the summer.»

He felt a blush spread over his face at her words. He guessed he had changed a little over the summer. He had grown a few inches, let his hair get a little longer - the raven black curls almost falling to his eyes now - and put on a couple pounds of muscle. His mind wandered back to Vaughan and how he had shown exactly how hot he thought Dorian was.

He tried to change the subject over to something else, and said the first thing that came to mind: «I can’t believe we’ll all be seniors from tomorrow on.»

Both of his friends looked at him then. «I know!» Aelin said. «But I’ve got a feeling this year is going to be great.»

She threw her arms around their shoulders, before exclaiming: «I’ve got my boys with me after all. What could go wrong?»

And as his best friend grinned at him - the feeling of summer and freedom still lingering, music playing long into the night - Dorian couldn’t help but grin back, letting all worries and secrets fade away.

For now, at least.

-

Manon Blackbeak was sitting in her room, reading Animal Farm. The semester didn’t start until tomorrow, but the curriculum was always published a few days ahead, and her grades wouldn’t suffer from coming to class prepared. Her grandmother would only accept the best, after all.

She put away the book as she heard something rustle inside her closet. Seconds later Abraxos emerged, his head stuck inside a t-shirt. Manon sighed at the sight of the little black cat, but stepped over to help him.

Once she had freed him, she was awarded with a loud purr, his head pushing against her thigh. Manon rolled her eyes at his antics. «You stupid worm,» she mumbled, but gave in and stroked him behind his ears.

«It’s getting late,» she said to her companion. «We should head to bed, so we’re well rested for tomorrow.»

As if he understood what she was saying, Abraxos hopped onto her bed and laid down on his usual spot, right next to her pillow.

Manon turned off the lights before laying down next to him.

I will be a senior from tomorrow on, she thought.

Her summer had been rather uneventful, as usual. They never went anywhere, never did anything. Manon’s grandmother was always very busy, so she only had her cousin Asterin for company - whenever she was home, that was.

Manon spent her summers waiting for school to begin again, getting the time to pass by reading herself up on various subjects, always working to maintain her perfect GPA.

Only the best will do. Her grandmother’s words echoed in her mind. You don’t want to end up like your mother, do you?

Manon had never met her mother - since she had died right after Manon was born - but her grandmother liked to remind her of how big of a failure the woman was, having dropped out of college after being knocked up by Manon’s father.

She had never met her father either. Apparently the man was a drunken nobody, wanting nothing to do with his daughter.

Her parents wasn’t something she thought about often, but once again she heard her grandmother’s words. You will do better. Be better. Understand?

Manon’s summer hadn’t only consisted of tedious schoolwork, she had also spent countless hours at the dance studio, practicing new moves.

Dancing was her one great passion. She loved closing her eyes and getting lost in the music, her body moving to the rhythm on its own accord. On the good days, dancing felt like flying.

That was the other reason to why she was looking forward to school starting again. She hadn’t danced with her team in months. They called themselves the Thirteen, and she was their captain. As soon the semester started they could get back to practicing, working towards their goal of beating Iskra Yellowlegs and her team’s ass.

As she closed her eyes, ready to drift off to sleep, her mind wandered to Asterin. Manon hadn’t seen her cousin all evening, so she came to the conclusion that she had most likely snuck out to go to some end-of-summer party. It wouldn’t be the first time.

As if on cue, someone knocked quietly on her window.

«Speaking of the devil,» Manon said to no one in particular as she got out of bed, walked over to the window and opened it, only to find Asterin standing outside.

The girl looked wild, wearing her usual leather jacket, wavy, blonde hair hanging loose, make-up smudged around her eyes.

«Move your ass and let me in,» was her cousin’s only greeting as she stealthily climbed inside, barely making any noise.

Manon chose to ignore her and crawled back into bed. Asterin followed, shoving Abraxos out of the way and laying down next to Manon.

The cat gave Asterin an offended look before running inside the closet again.

«How drunk are you?» Manon asked her cousin, trying to ignore the stench of alcohol. 

This was going to be a long night, she thought.

Asterin turned to lay on her back. «Not too drunk, I can walk in a straight line,» she said, turning her face towards Manon’s and wiggling her eyebrows.

Manon wasn’t too sure about that, noticing the slur in her voice. All of a sudden, Asterin started to giggle.

«What’s so funny?» Manon asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice.

Asterin didn’t seem to care that her cousin would much rather sleep as she answered: «I’m just happy about life I guess. I have a boyfriend now.» She giggled some more, drawing out the syllables in boyfriend.

Asterin kept going, «His name is Hunter, and he’s perfect.»

So that’s why she’s been out so much lately, Manon mused to herself.

She went quiet after that, probably asleep already. Manon turned to lay on her side, -facing away from her drunk cousin - when Asterin spoke again. Her voice was quiet and surprisingly sober this time. «You didn’t tell her, right? That I was out, I mean. You know how angry she can get.»

Yes, Manon knew first hand how angry their grandmother could get, the small, white mark she bore on her left cheek proof of that.

A/N: If you finished it all, congratulations!

I never thought I would write a multichapter fic, but I got the idea for this and was unable to put it away, so here it is!

I have the full story plotted out already (although it is a mess), but don't know how often I will have the inspiration to write the chapters and post them. I don't want to make a posting schedule either because consistency is definitely not my middle name.

I just have to say that writing Manon is extremely difficult. She is one complex character. But I am trying my best, and decided to write her like I think she would be, had she been a human teenager.

Also, if it seems like the writer of this fic has never stepped foot inside an American high school, you're correct. I'm just a simple Norwegian trying my best.

Feel free to leave a comment:) Constructive criticism is always welcomed, as I am working towards improving as a writer.

Peace&Love -Dawninlatin