#most of these aren’t even mosses I’ve been told…

[snailspng]

Moss & lichen PNGs.

(1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.)

[bby-deerling]

birthday cake (zoro x fem!reader)

more zoro fluff, i'm on a roll lately. recently discovered i share a birthday with brook (even though it's currently ages away), and got this silly little idea. wc 1k, zoro bullies sanji. same reader as my other zoro x reader fics!

Though it may not appear so to an outside observer, Zoro hangs onto every word you have ever said, absorbing them all like a sponge.  It scared him at first, worrying he was getting distracted from his training, but over time he figured that singularly focusing on swordsmanship left him with a lot of empty space in his head to fill.  The things you tell him; your poetic musings, all the technical aspects of the paintings you create, your darkest fears, and your eclectic range of knowledge about almost any topic all get filed away in the back of his brain.

His crew often found themselves flabbergasted when Zoro pulled this information to the forefront.  When Chopper wonders aloud how lasers work, he grabs a napkin and sketches diagrams to accompany his explanation that was at least eighty-percent correct.  When Robin comments on the ever developing impressionistic style of your pieces, she is quite amused that he has quite a lot to say about your brushwork as of late, going so far as to compare the way you hold your brush to his grip on his swords; you had stopped choking up so far on your brush at his suggestion to help increase the fluidity of your marks and seen a large amount of improvement in your work as a result.  During the two years he spent on Kuraigana, he drove Perona up a wall whenever he caught her reading a book he recognized and gave her his very strong opinions on the characters that were entirely based on a brief synopsis you had given him.

That’s why it makes him absolutely crazy when he realizes the stupid, shitty cook has forgotten your birthday, one of the most basic, mundane things about you.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Zoro had asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.

“Nothing too far out of the ordinary.  I suppose I’ll make a cake despite the fact that Brook can’t really taste it; I know Luffy will want to throw a big party—” Sanji began, before being cut off.

“Moron.  Aren’t you forgetting something?” Zoro asks, voice dropping and laced with venom.

Sanji goes pale white with the realization that you shared a birthday with Brook—he had bought you a gift ages ago and forgotten about it, the exact date vaporizing into thin air.

“I can’t believe you forgot it’s her birthday too, especially after all the nonsense she did for yours last month.  I told her it wasn’t worth it, but she insisted anyways.” Zoro hisses, jaw clenched.

Sanji ignores Zoro’s hostility and begins flipping through recipes, deciding on an elaborate, three tier sponge cake with strawberry flavored icing.

“She doesn’t want that.” Zoro said, staring over his shoulder.

“Remind me what your job is here again, moss-head?” the cook asks, cigarette in his mouth snapping as he bites down on it in frustration.

Zoro goes to the cabinet that harbors his liquor stash and pulls out a small cardboard box he had bought at the last island.  “This is what she wants.  Do you have the special pan for it?”

Sanji examines the box of angel food cake mix and sighs.  “I’m not feeding her cake mix for her birthday, moss-head.  I’ll make one from scratch.” he says, swearing under his breath when he realized how much of a dent it was going to put into the ship’s supply of eggs due to the sheer amount of egg whites required.

“She wants the box mix.  It’s what she grew up having.  If you won’t make it I will.” Zoro insists, pushing the box back towards the cook.  “You know those cookies she likes from that bakery on her home island?  With tons of sugar piled on top?”

Sanji nods.  “I’ve been there. Zeff and I stole the recipe years ago.  It’s really just a basic sugar cookie—"

“They have to be in the shapes of lambs.” Zoro said.  Sanji desperately searches the moss-head’s face for any sign of him not being serious, but he turns up empty.

“Where the hell am I going to get a cookie cutter shaped like a lamb in the middle of the ocean?” Sanji snaps, secretly grateful for Zoro’s assistance but nonetheless vexed by his the swordsman’s demanding tone.

“Dunno, but you better figure it out soon.” Zoro says with a shrug, thoroughly enjoying the emotional turmoil that this entire situation was causing Sanji.  “Ask Usopp or Franky to make one for you, though who knows if they’re willing at this hour.”  Sanji clenches his jaw and nods and picks up a napkin that Zoro has scribbled a rough sketch on, making a mental note to bring it to Usopp later.

As Zoro turns to walk out of the kitchen, Sanji can’t help but throw him one last remark, despite not being in the position to do so. 

“I’m surprised you remembered all this, moss-head.  I thought all that was between your ears was empty space and ear wax.” he says, not looking up from his recipe book.

“You’re surprised I pay attention when she talks?” Zoro asks incredulously.  Sanji sighs, knowing he practically walked into that one, and prepares for another verbal lash.

“I hope I don’t have to tell you her favorite meals too.  Honestly, I don’t even see why we keep you around when you can’t even get this right without my help.  Stuff like this is why Nami doesn’t give you the time of day, besides being an idiot pervert and all—”

“Out of the kitchen now, moss for brains.” Sanji snaps, shoving his boot into his back and kicking him towards the exit.  Before he closes the door, Zoro pokes his head through the opening.

“No frosting.” he says.  “Don’t forget.”

“None at all?  You’re certain?” Sanji asks incredulously.  Zoro nods affirmatively and slams the door to the kitchen, finally giving the cook some peace and quiet, fingers rubbing his temples to get rid of the headache that the swordsman had given him.

The next day, your shared birthday party with Brook in the Sunny's kitchen is the most memorable you’ve ever had, and you’re nothing short of amazed when Sanji pulls out cake and cookies identical to the kind your mother always served you.

The wonder in your eyes at how Sanji was able to replicate the desserts dissipates and is replaced by appreciation and understanding when Zoro grins at you and squeezes your thigh under the table, a silent admission that he'd helped the cook put everything together.

No wonder everything turned out so perfect; how could it not when he pays so much attention to what you need?

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hi I’ve been reading your Yandere one piece fics and omg I love the way you wrote it ! Love the atmosphere, the setting , the interactions with the characters 💗

lmao can’t wait to see Sanji and the gang reaction that Luffy gave Lucky amnesia XD (Bonus Sanji reaction to the scar 👀)

Other than that hope your doing ok ! 💗

Okay, so I should not be doing this, but I got inspired and wrote a little drabble about this. Didn't think I would be spoiling my own fic, but here we are!

So yeah, have some out of context spoilers for post Baratie Lucky Break. Due to LB being told exclusively from Lucky's point of view, this scene would have been skipped otherwise, so I am kinda glad I can get it out now.

“I can’t believe Nami and Lucky are both gone, they were most of the reason why I agreed to join, you know.”

Sanji flicked on his lighter to ignite his cigarette. The eighth one since they left the Baratie to be exact. He’s been chain smoking at such an alarming rate that Usopp wasn’t sure he was going to make it to their destination, but he wasn’t about to try and take them from him. Not after seeing how devastating his kicks are, no thank you.

Sanji had just finished cooking a meal for them, not that Usopp got to particularly enjoy it thanks to Luffy eating most of his share too. Sanji either wasn’t hungry or was smart enough to eat his portion before he got out here. 

“You worry too much! Both of them are tough, I’m sure they’ll manage on their own. Even if they can’t, Zoro’s probably already there by now,” Luffy didn’t have a care in the world and was happily licking the plates- all of them- clean as if he were a starving man. 

Sanji kicked the chair Luffy was in, “What’s that moss head going to do? He just got cut open, and the swordsmen with him aren’t much better off!” He takes a long drag of his cigarette, holds it in, and exhales in with a huff. “Besides, it doesn’t look like any of you are all that capable of protecting a lady, not with how banged up poor Lucky was.”

“You mean her leg? It’s just a little cut!” Sanji’s eye twitched at this, clearly not liking Luffy’s dismissive attitude. 

“It needed stitches! And I was talking more about the giant head wound she has!” Sanji snapped forward from his reclining position to slam his fists on the table. “How could you even let that happen, what if whoever did that had killed her?”

“Oh that?” Luffy laughed, “That wasn’t from us not protecting her, I did that!”

Luffy continued to laugh at the misunderstanding, completely oblivious to the dangerous shift in the atmosphere. Usopp could only watch in mounting horror as the half smoked cigarette fell from Sanji’s mouth.

“What?” The single word was ground out with so much venom that Usopp found himself scrambling to get out of the chair and as far away from the table as the small boat would allow. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be on the Going Merry right about now!

“L-L-Luffy, maybe you should stop talking!” Usopp called out from the opposite end of the boat.

“Let him talk,” the menacing look Sanji shot at him was enough to have him considering throwing himself overboard. Sanji slowly stood up from his seat and stiffly walked towards Luffy, “Tell me, Luffy, what do you mean you ‘did that’?”

“That’s how we met! Me and Zoro saw her fall out of the sky and into the sea, and when I tried to pull her into the boat I hit her head. It was an accident though, I didn’t mean to!”

“That’s how Lucky got that? Wait, did you say she fell out of the sky?” This was the first time Usopp had heard any of this. Up until now he had assumed you’d been recruited in a normal way. And what the hell did he mean you fell out of the sky?

Luffy didn’t get a chance to answer Usopp’s question, not when Sanji’s foot just barely missed him. “Hey! What was that for? All I did was answer your question!” Luffy leapt out of the way of a second kick. It was a good thing he dodged it too, seeing as that the blow sent the railing it hit flying out to sea.

“Don’t play dumb with me, you know what you did! How dare you scar a woman’s face!” Sanji didn’t let up for even a second, not paying any mind to the damage he was inflicting on the small boat they were on.

“It was an accident! Lucky isn’t even as mad about it as you are!” Luffy was scolding Sanji as if this was a minor tantrum and not an attempt on his life. “Besides, it’ll heal! I’m sure she’s way more concerned about losing her memories than a little scratch on her head!”

That was enough to bring Sanji’s kicks to a halt. He stood frozen, staring wide-eyed at him. Then his hands shot out and latched onto Luffy’s shirt, bringing him in close, “What do you mean she lost her memories?”

“You sure like asking that question a lot, you don’t understand what anything I say means” Luffy complained. “She forgot everything after I hit her head. She can’t even remember her name, that’s why we call her Lucky. I came up with that name, you know!” He had the audacity to look proud of himself.

Sanji, on the other hand, looked exasperated and vaguely homicidal.

Before Sanji could resume his violent onslaught, Usopp jumped in to stop him. “Wait, wait, wait! Please don’t fight! If you guys kill each other then I will be all alone out here, so let’s all take a deep breath and calm down!”

“Stay out of this, long nose!” Sanji barked at him. 

Thankfully, however, Sanji did let go of their captain. He stomped over to where he was seated before while fishing his cigarettes and lighter from his pockets. “I’ll let this go for now, but only because we need to focus on getting to Nami and Lucky before they can get hurt. I’m going to need to be in peak condition when we get there so I can keep them safe from that Arlong bastard,” he shot Luffy a dirty look, “and also you.” 

“Aww, come on, why are you so bent out of shape about this? It was an accident and I already told her I was sorry, what else am I supposed to do?” Luffy whined, not understanding Sanji’s point of view on the matter.

Usopp could see Sanji’s eye twitching and jaw clenching, “Hey, Luffy! Let’s stop talking now!”

Sanji forced himself to relax as much as he could and took another drag from his cigarette. He ran his free hand through his hair, and mumbled, “Maybe I should have talked Zeff into hiring them as waitresses instead of joining this crew.”

“What difference would that have made? You guys have fights there all the time!” It’s like Luffy wanted to provoke him into another fight. Usopp tried to slap a hand over his big mouthed captain, but he just dodged all of his attempts to keep him quiet.

“Obviously I wouldn’t have let them get involved in those, dumbass!” Aaaand Sanji was back on his feet and storming over to them. 

Usopp wishes he would have gone with Zoro instead.

[wearywinchester]

Tempers

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, anger flares and feelings come out.

Requested by Anonymous: This is sooo ''let's pretend they're all alive' but I think we all need something nice now, could you do one where reader is bobby's daughter and she's your typical I like makeup, short skirts and heels girl and they're all (reluctantly) working with the ghost facers for a case, dean gets protective around her bc she's bobby's daughter and not at all bc he likes her no no what gave you that idea hehehe

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: little bit of jealousy, injuries, mentions of blood, swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, fluff, kissing

Hunting with the Winchester’s.

No matter the case, hunting with those two never failed to be interesting. You’d like to think you were a good hunter, in fact you knew you were. You might not have been the best there is but there’s not one hunter out there that hasn’t made a handful of mistakes on the job. It was bound to happen sometime. But you’ve had a pretty good hunter to learn from—your dad.

He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of you hunting, not in the slightest and he tried his hardest to get you to go another direction with your life. But Bobby Singer was as stubborn as they come, so he should’ve expected his daughter to be just the same as himself. With all of the reluctance in the world, he taught you to be the hunter you are today, and that’s something he can feel confident in even though he might not admit it.

Dean hadn’t taken you too seriously the first time you’d accompanied them on a hunt for a vamp nest, treating you as if you were a child despite the mere one year age difference the two of you held. That quickly changed when you saved him from a great deal of danger that night; three vamps against a disarmed Dean surely wouldn’t have gone very well.

That was something you very much held over his head, giving it a good long while before you finally let him live it down save for a few mentions here and there.

Even then Dean was just as protective as he’d been since you were teens nearly ten years ago, you were Bobby’s daughter. That was always his reasoning for insisting you stay close to him on hunts, for losing his temper should the smallest of things happen to you. That was his reasoning for being adamant that you stay back on hunts he deemed too dangerous, trying his hardest to convince Bobby to stick with him on it. Bobby never disagrees with his reasoning, but he also knows you’re too stubborn for your own good.

Dean was the very same way.

The old house looked like something straight out of a movie, the stereotypical haunted house as boards stick haphazardly over broken windows and the grass is far too overgrown. Nearly every corner was littered with spiderwebs, the siding on the house covered in years of neglected dirt and moss. It was only perfectly fitting that it’d be haunted, otherwise that’d be a waste of an abandoned house.

You squinted up at it as you got out of the backseat of the Impala, turning back to look at the long driveway you’d just driven up, lined with old trees on either side before glancing back at the house. Your gaze shifts to Dean as you smooth out your jacket, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowed as you look up at the older Winchester.

“Nothing,” he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a pair of those ridiculously tall heels on. I have to say I’m shocked.”

You roll your eyes and bite the inside of your cheek as he nudges the toe of your tattered old boots, his smile still remaining as he looks down at you in amusement.

“Well I guess I’m full of surprises then, aren’t I?” You say as you rub your gloss in with a smack of your lips and brush past him to get to catch up to Sam, the smile you’d tried to stifle now tugging at your lips once your back was to him. But he knew it was there just as much as you saw his was when you turned back around to catch his expression.

He chuckled, brows soon furrowing as he shook his head. “Wait—what’s that supposed to mean?”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and quickened his pace, grumbling to himself about what your words could have meant as his brows furrowed. In a matter of moments you nearly smack into Sam, stopping just in time.

“What is it?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean mutters, and when you look at him that crease between his brows deepens and his jaw tenses, eyes rolling and you follow his gaze to the ever familiar van that sat parked on the other side of the trees. “Looks like the ghostbusters beat us to it.”

Ghostfacers.

You were more than surprised when Dean had caved on working the hunt with them, not without a couple of eye rolls and a few choice words for the pair mumbled not so discreetly under his breath. But all things considered, after what happened the last time, you were surprised he’d gone through with it. Although, Harry and Ed weren’t planning on leaving anyway. They may have been more than just a little intimidated by that ever famous Dean Winchester glare, one that never worked on you, but they weren’t scared enough to back down much to Dean’s dismay.

The more people there were, the better, but that didn’t stop the older Winchester from being protective over you. In fact, you were certain he was even more so.

“Stay with me,” Dean said, his words serious as he put his arm out in front of you, his gaze over at the two less than desired guests and their cameras having been less than pleased. Especially with the way they smiled at you and acted like a couple of fools with a crush.

“What am I five, Dean?” You say, pushing his arm down as you quicken your pace to walk with him rather than behind him.

He narrows his eyes down at you as his lips purse till those dimples appeared that you’ve come to know oh so well, and rarely were they not from discontentment.

“Would you slow down?” He huffs, a smile tugging at your lips.

You sigh, shaking your head in amusement.

You failed to miss the way the back of his hand had brushed over your knuckles as you walked along the shadowed hallway, thick with cobwebs and rubble scattering across the scratched wood floors. You were starting to wonder if the action was a simple accident or if he’d felt the same spark of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his chest as you felt in yours.

It could have been nothing, probably was, but you shook it off when you turned around the corner and tried not to think about it again.

The hunt was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, and it was one spirit against five people. Harry and Ed weren’t the best of help, not really, but it was more than you walked in with and it should have been better. But it wasn’t.

The spirit turned out to be far more vengeful than she let on, and as Dean suspected, it wasn’t a good idea to split up. Not in a house that was three times bigger than it seemed with a more than violent spirit on the loose. It most certainly didn’t help that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, the house dark enough to begin with even in daylight, it’s boarded up windows and burnt out lightbulbs working against you.

Had you not been there, Dean would more than readily have split up to cover more ground with the extra set of hands accompanying you this time, it only made sense to do so. But you were. You were there and you were just as stubborn as ever as you stood there in favor of the very idea that was just the opposite of what Dean wanted. What was a good idea to you and one to most was the worst thing he could possibly think of. He didn’t want you to stray far from him for reasons he’d never admit, not to you or himself, instead reasoning with a simple ‘because I said so’.

But that phrase didn’t work on you. It never did.

He knew. From the moment those two barreled down the stairs looking paler than the spirit you were after, holding all the hesitancy in the world in their body language he knew. The apologetic look Sam had given him wasn’t one that helped either, anger quick to spark within him as he closed his eyes for a moment. He should have known better than to believe they’d offer you any form of protection even though he knows you can hold your own. He should have known better than to quit arguing with you on the matter because maybe, just maybe you’d have given in and split up with him instead. Maybe you would still be with the group and not who knows where in this maze of a run down mansion.

It was a mess of maybe’s and what if’s that clouded his every thought.

But he didn’t argue and you were gone. You were swept away by Casper the not so friendly ghost and he was to blame. Bobby would be livid if he knew, he gets that, but Dean himself didn’t know what he’d do if something happened. He could deal with the wrath of Bobby Singer any day but he couldn’t deal with even just the thought of something happening to you and he couldn’t find it in him to grasp just why it was he felt that way. Maybe he could, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“You what?” Dean asked, anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. His question was low and the two words were more than venomous, more than telling of just how angry he’d been. He heard exactly what Ed had told him not thirty seconds before, he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could believe it actually, because it was Ed of all people, but that wasn’t the point.

Ed swallowed thickly and offered a nervous laugh in an attempt to stave off the tension that’d been building the moment they came back to Dean without you, backing up from the green eyed Winchester who’d been staring him down with a narrowed gaze. It wasn’t hard to see that his patience was wearing thin, and he knew he was pushing it the more he stalled. “She—she went ahead! It’s not like we could talk her out of it!”

His fists clenched and relaxed at his sides at the reasoning he just heard, crescent shaped imprints of his nails left behind on his palms in the wake of his increasing anger.

“You let her out of your sight?” He said, far louder than before. He grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against the dilapidated old wall, the wood creaking under the newfound pressure against it and a cloud of dust forming. He’s more than tense as Dean crinkles his shirt between his fists, knuckles ivory white and jaw clenched tightly. He could see every freckle and every ounce of emotion in Dean’s eyes, that’s how close he was. He could see the angry quiver in his bottom lip and the flare of his nostrils, could feel his breath hitting his face as he stood pinned to the wall and his glasses even fogged up.

“What, you thought you’d play ‘Mr. Tough Guy’, try and protect her? Huh? Cause you sure as hell didn’t do a good job,” Dean grits out frustratedly.

“She said she’d kick my ass if I didn’t let her go ahead!” He splutters, nearly nose to nose with him.

Dean nodded, the smile on his face bitter as he slid his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sweating bullets by that point as he buckled under the pressure of Dean’s distress. He let out a noise when he shook him slightly and he knows that’s not the answer Dean needs to hear right now. “We were on the second floor when a door slammed around the corner!”

“Actually, they all closed so it’s kinda hard to tell which one,” Harry chimed in, growing timid the more he spoke as he stepped closer to Sam as some form of protection. He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously when Dean’s stare fell on him.

“Dean, we’ll find her, okay? Right now we’re just wasting time,” Sam says, noting Ed was two seconds from fainting from the anger radiating off the older Winchester.

Dean pushed him back once more before releasing his grip on his shirt, wrinkled and disheveled from the tightness of his fists. It was becoming increasingly more apparent that this was about more than just protecting Bobby Singer’s daughter. It was about more than just his annoyance with anything and everything that has to do with Ghostfacers. It was you.

He was angry, livid, as he snagged the flashlight from the table, storming off on his own. Not without his anger getting the better of him, a nearby chair taking the brunt of his frustration as it hits the wall. He remembers just what happened the last time he got stuck working a hunt with them, and he tried his hardest not to think about it.

Meanwhile, you found yourself stuck locked in a room you knew you weren’t in before you were taken. A room you didn’t even know existed in this house to begin with. For being a run down old building, the flimsy doors were stronger than they looked, but you suppose the powers of the supernatural didn’t really care about things like that.

Your knuckles were an angry shade of red, fists sore and throbbing from having pounded them against the door for the better part of what had to be ten minutes in an attempt to escape or at least grab someone’s attention. You were tired as you slumped back against the wall, tucked within the sparse circle of salt you managed to make. Your phone was dead and your flashlight was gone, your energy seemingly just as drained as everything else.

You could feel the I told you so’s coming from Dean, you knew they’d be there ready and waiting if you get out of this. It’s not like it had been completely undeserved, but you didn’t want to hear it. You knew you more than likely looked worse for wear as you sat within that circle, knew by the way you saw smears of crimson on your fingers when you wiped your cheek. It was no secret that you messed up big time with this one, you’d admit that, but admitting it to yourself didn’t help you in that moment and you certainly wouldn’t say it to Dean.

You found there were a lot of things you were hesitant on admitting to Dean, and in the current moment you weren’t so sure if you’d have the chance to bring any of them to light. Maybe it was for the best anyway, could save yourself the embarrassment of having feelings for the older Winchester in the first place. Though you can’t tell what was scarier, the thought of his inevitable discontent with you and your hunting capabilities should you make it out alive, or the very real possibility that you wouldn’t make it out alive.

Yeah, you definitely couldn’t decide that one.

You weren’t sure how or when you found yourself pining over green eyes; the two of you bickered more often than not each and every time you saw one another. If it wasn’t over the smell of your perfume filling up the Impala, it was the way his cologne hung on you after he gave you a hug just to make that happen, just to ruffle your hair after you’d just done it. It was the softer smiles you shared with each other without even realizing it.

But it didn’t really matter, not now it didn’t.

You were caught up with the sting of embarrassment coursing through you from having gotten lost in the first place—you were so adamant that you could do it on your own. It happens to Sam all the time, it happens to Dean all the time, but you couldn’t stop the heat burning in your cheeks or the frustration building in your stomach.

You didn’t know how much time had passed nor did you have a second to think on it before she appeared in front of you in a matter of seconds. The look on her face had you sitting a little straighter, back pressing to the wall behind you as you eyed the pitiful salt ring around you. She laughed tauntingly and you were beginning to think even that wouldn’t protect you, you knew it wouldn’t judging by the way each and every granule began to sift away and break apart it’s protective ring.

You swallow thickly as your eyes widened, both your gaze and hers shifting to the door briefly as it rattled. “Y/n?”

Your breath hitched, only the smallest bit of relief washing over you as her attention returned to you almost immediately. “Dean!”

She didn’t seem to mind his attempts at busting the door down, nor the axe that split through the wood. She knew full well she could send him across the room with a simple twitch of her finger should he break through, watching as you scramble to your feet.

In a matter of seconds she’d appeared mere inches from you, her hand grabbing your face, cold and unforgiving. You didn’t know just what it was she’d been doing, but you were more than aware of the pain beginning to lance through you the moment she touched your skin.

It was near unbearable, a sharp burn radiating through you as a pressure squeezed in on you, intense and unwavering. You were quite sure you’d never felt something so intensely, the feeling nearly taking your breath away. Of all the hunts you’d been on, of all the injuries you walked away with, they’ve got nothing on this.

One thing she didn’t count on was the handful of salt you gathered in your palm, too caught up in your demise to see you’d snagged it from the protective ring she broke. You pressed your hand to her wrist and watched her face twist and contort in discomfort, the action searing her arm where you’d touched it and releasing her grip on you in an instant as if you were venomous.

She pushed you to the wall in retaliation with a simple move of her hand, and if you thought she’d been angry now, you surely were mistaken. You groaned as the fragile old wall behind you cracked and crumbled around you, slumping on the ground once more in exhaustion. You caught sight of Dean’s face as the door began to give way, livid yet holding something you couldn’t quite place as your heart hammered in your chest.

But luck seemed to be on your side just this once, fear flashing across her face as she stood mere inches from you. Her yelp was shrill as she stumbled backwards, having burned up in a blaze of misery and screams. Your chest heaved as your shoulders slumped in relief, the heat of her disappearance having fanned over you and the door breaking loose in a heap of shards and splinters.

The pain she’d caused had begun to ebb away and subside, leaving the ache to remain and the fatigue you felt to rest heavier in your body as you stood to your feet with a bit of unbalance.

Dean had crossed the room in a matter of a few strides, the axe clattering to the floor as his hand settled on your cheek. You looked miserable, mascara smudged and a frown on your busted lip.

“You okay?” He asked, the furrow deep between his brows.

“Do not say ‘I told you so’,” you grumble, half humorous as you look up at him.

His lips purse, his thumb swiping over the cut running along your cheek that he was less than pleased about. Any other time he might’ve laughed, but not this time. The worried crease between his brows and the way his lips pointed downward at the corners had been telling enough that he wasn’t happy with the predicament you’d gotten yourself into, that he was the complete opposite of thrilled at the close call that had his heart pounding and his stress in overdrive. But right now he was relieved. You were here and you were okay, attitude and all.

Sam was first to rush in, Harry next and Ed hot on his heels as they stepped over the rubble and splinters of the broken door.

Ed’s own relief washed over him, happy to not be on the receiving end of an angry Dean Winchester’s punch. “You found her—”

“Shut it.”

It’d been quiet the whole car ride home, no music on the radio, no conversation, no quick witted jokes or typical conversation. It was quiet and it was tense, near uncomfortable as Sam was stuck in the tension between two people he knows have something brewing between them. But he said nothing, pretending he didn’t see the way his brother’s gaze flickers to the rear view every other minute to see if you’re okay, his jaw tense and his grip on the wheel nearly too tight.

Bobby wasn’t thrilled to see the way that spirit roughed you up, more than a few choice words thrown Dean’s way with anger in his tone. He expected that much, having braced for it the whole ride back. He didn’t argue, didn’t do much more than nod and clench his jaw, and he didn’t say just how it was that it happened in the first place either.

Now you were wandering through your dad’s house, quiet unlike it had been just two hours earlier. Your dad and Sam had both been asleep, the early hours of dawn beginning to roll around as dawn approached. You knew better than to believe Dean would be sleeping too, your thoughts confirmed when the door to the bedroom he’d been crashing in was still open, bed empty and still untouched from when he’d haphazardly made it the morning before.

You sighed when you saw him, sitting by himself on the back porch swing and the moment you stepped outside you saw the half-drunk bottle of beer in his hand. His gaze lifted to you when he heard the creak of the door, averting his stare moments later.

“It’s late, sweetheart. Go to bed.”

“Then why aren’t you in bed?”

“Not tired,” he says, tipping his bottle against his lips as he takes another sip of his beer.

You huff out a soft sigh, arms crossing over your chest. That’s when he looks at you again, the dimness of the porch light having illuminated the jagged scratch on your cheek, freshly cleaned as well as the mascara that smudged under your eyes earlier. The tension in his jaw had yet to go away, obvious as ever.

“Are you going to be mad at me forever then?”

“‘M not mad anymore,” he says, and you knew for a fact that’d been a lie.

“You’re not that good a liar, Dean,” you say, watching him set his drink down and stand to his feet, leaning his weight on the wooden railing. “I had it handled, you know,” you say, watching his expression sour at your words.

You heard his scoff as you brushed past him, a sigh leaving your lips because you knew he’d react just the way he’d been acting. You were right with him, you were always right.

“Had it handled, my ass,” he said, quick to follow after you. “I told you not to do that.”

“Yeah, well I did it,” you said, and he turned in front of you and spun around, keeping you from walking any further.

“Would you quit it with the tough guy act? You’re hurt and you damn well know it, I know it. Hell, anyone can see that. So do yourself a favor and stop pretending like you had everything under control because I know you better than to believe that.”

Your brows furrow as you look up at him with a squinted gaze, watching as his chest rises and falls, at the way there was something more than anger pooling in his eyes as he looked at you. You’ve never seen him quite this upset over you before, not really, never seen him look at you that way before. He was angry, sure he was, but it was different.

He wasn’t wrong, you were hurting, it’s not everyday you’re on the receiving end of a vengeful spirits’ wrath. You went off on your own when you shouldn’t have been so bold and daring. But you were here. You were here and you were okay and you knew you were bound to do it again on another case. It was what being a hunter is about. You didn’t get this far by sitting back and letting the monsters out there come to you, you had to go out and look for them and if you got a few bumps and bruises then so be it.

“Why are you so mad, Dean?” You ask, watching his eyes roll. “You go out and do the same reckless things on a hunt, you’ve come out on the other side way worse than I did. But since it’s me, suddenly it’s a problem.”

“Exactly, it’s because it’s you!” He repeats, frustrated as ever as he throws his hands up. “And yeah I’m mad. I’m freakin’ pissed. You come in here thinking you’re invincible and you’re not Y/n. I’m mad because…” he paused, letting out a breath as he rubbed his face, hands running through his hair.

He looked at you then, expression softening as he calmed down a fraction. “Forget it.”

“No, not forget it,” you say, grabbing his wrist as he starts to walk away. His jaw was clenched as he looked down at you, swallowing thickly as the heaving of his chest slowed and his grip on the doorknob was tighter than ever.

This was the first time since you’d gotten back that he’d looked in your eyes for longer than a mere second or two. You knew he was on the brink of storming off to sulk in his own anger and guilt because that’s what he always did. You knew there was something more to it than just what he’d told you. He’d like to think that you’d believe that he wasn’t angry anymore, that he was over it. But Sam told you what happened back there, how upset he got with Ed and just how worried he’d been. It was growing increasingly obvious that there was more to it than that.

It was then that you noticed you’d still been holding onto his wrist and he didn’t pull away from you, didn’t make a move to.

You tilted your head to the side when you mulled things over, and that was when the sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t do that thing where you try and ‘read’ me,” he says, quoting the word.

“You were scared,” you said, smile widening a bit and he huffs, pulling his arm from your loose grip. You hit the nail right on the head.

“I was just doing what Bobby asked me to do,” he says, adamant that that was his reason for being as upset as he was. Definitely not over the feelings bubbling away in the pit of his stomach, just waiting to go ahead and boil over.

“No, you were scared, De,” you say as he starts to turn away from you in an attempt to hide the smile threatening to show. “You were scared that I got lost.”

You always did that. You always took his anger and made it something else entirely and he’d try his hardest to keep that wall up. He was mad at you, mad at you for putting yourself in the same kind of danger he allows himself to be in with every hunt he does. But if you keep poking and prodding him and calling him out on his true feelings with that smile that makes him weak in the knees he does know how long he’ll last.

“You got this all wrong, sweetheart.”

“Sam told me what happened with Ed back there.”

His expression changed, softened a bit before he played it off with that familiar smirk. “Yeah, Ed’s an idiot and he pushed my buttons.”

You nodded then, your smile more than telling that you didn’t believe a word he said. You heaved a sigh, a bit of disappointment burning in your chest at his words. Because maybe you did have it all wrong, maybe his stubborn reluctance to be honest was just him telling the truth. Maybe he was just doing what your dad asked him to do. Being protective was in his nature, you knew that for a fact.

You brushed past him on the porch and headed to the door, the chirping of the early morning birds sounding and giving you enough of a reminder that maybe you should go to bed. That maybe you’ll feel better with a few hours of sleep. That maybe they would be gone, Dean would be gone by the time you woke up and you wouldn’t have to face the fluttery feeling and the ache in your heart until the next time you see him.

You spin on your heel to find him already looking, your smile soft. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Without so much as a reply you twist the old brass doorknob, pushing the back door open before his hand grips your wrist. You turned back to look at him, brows furrowed as you gazed up at him. He swallows thickly as he looks at you, lips parting to speak but the very words he’d been thinking of so vividly were stuck on the top of his tongue.

His hand loosens around your wrist and the tips of his fingers slide down to your hand to envelope yours, calloused and warm and hesitant. He takes all but a few seconds of your curious gaze, of the questions sitting on your tongue before he dips down and presses his lips on yours. It’s soft, featherlight almost as he pulls away just as quickly.

He doesn’t stray too far, his nose brushing against yours as he swallows nervously, but the sight of your smile put him at ease. Had him kissing you with just a little more vigor as his hand drops yours in favor of pressing to your cheek, your own having settled in his arm. Your smiles mingle and press into each other, the kiss soft and languid as your cheeks burned under his touch.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” You murmur, and the way he hummed softly, the way he stole another kiss in favor of admitting you were was telling enough.

He pulls back to look at you, his lips kiss swollen and pink as the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. His eyes bounce between yours and down to your lips, looking at you once more before he kisses you again. The anger he held is quick to melt when you look at him the way you do and he hates it, he loves it but he hates it because he really should be mad. You nearly got yourself killed and here he was weak in the knees and he knows you’ll be just as brave on the next hunt. He knows you’ll do just the same thing.

“Your dad’s gonna kill me,” he mumbles, smiling against your lips.

“Probably,” you say with a grin, his quiet laughter immediate as he pulls you closer.

But you were right. There was more to it than just protecting Bobby Singer’s daughter, there always was. As stubborn as Dean Winchester could be, you knew him better than that, and he knew you better than to believe you won’t make his heart race and his worry spike on every hunt after that. It’s just in your nature to be braver than ever.

But he’ll protect you each and every time.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @lanea-1 @campingmonkey

[queenshelby]

The Policeman’s Daughter – Part Three

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warning: Mention of Assault and Sexual Abuse, Mention of Suicide, Murder, Fluff, Slow Burn Smut, Drugs

Words: 5,245

Please comment, like, engage if you like it xo 😘

Shelby Company Limited, Birmingham, 17 September 1924

At around 10 o’clock that day, Tommy had a meeting with Moss, Michael and Arthur at his office in order to ensure that the plan he had hatched in the previous two days came to fruition.

‘So, we are all good for the rallies this evening?’ Tommy asked as Moss, Michael and Arthur sat down with him in the conference room.

‘All this for a fucking woman, eh?’ Arthur asked, causing Tommy to chuckle. Of course, he had more than one motive for organising extensive rallies across Birmingham. Sure, he wanted to see you but he also needed to get a shipment of cocaine out of the city unnoticed.

‘The rallies are going ahead as planned. All but three policemen will be dispatched and busy breaking up the fights’ Moss explained before handing Tommy a list of names of policemen who had recently joined the force.

‘All but three, eh?’ Tommy asked surprised, causing Moss to nod. ‘Are you sure that this list complete?’ Tommy then went on to ask, noticing that none of the men on the list carried the same surname as you.

Moss nodded again before breaking some more news to Tommy.

‘Three of the men have been called into London, investigating a few killings. You may have heard in the news this morning that a High Court Judge had been killed last night’ Moss explained.

‘I’ve heard’ Tommy said before taking a short pause while reading over the list again. ‘Can you tell me who the three men are’ Tommy then went on to say while pointing at the list. In his mind, it was unusual for local coppers to be called to a different district and the killing of the judge was going to be a high-profile case, unsuitable for most small-town policemen to investigate.

Moss was quick to highlight the three names for Tommy before taking his payment and leaving the office just as requested by Tommy.

‘I need you to find out about these three men. Where they have transferred from and why they are here. Get me their addresses and see if they have any skeletons in their closet, eh’ Tommy said, handing the list to Michael.

‘Why?’ Michael asked, unsure about Tommy’s motives.

‘If these men investigate a murder of a judge in London, they aren’t just coppers’ Tommy explained before confirming with Arthur that he has dealt with the security guards at your property.

‘Blackmailed them and paid them Tommy. Just as you ordered’ Arthur confirmed and it was at this point that Tommy called the end of the meeting, allowing Michael and Arthur to get on with their business.

Just as Arthur and Michael left the office, Tommy’s secretary Lizzie walked inside, asking Tommy to sign off on some of the paperwork she had prepared for Shelby Company Limited.

Without acknowledging her, Tommy read the paperwork and signed it. As usual, his thoughts were elsewhere and it wasn’t until Lizzie asked him about his plans for the evening that he acknowledged her.

‘Would you like me to stay back this evening Tommy?’ Lizzie asked while she seductively ran her hand over one of his upper thighs all the way towards his crotch.

‘I’ve got plans this evening Lizzie’ Tommy quickly responded, removing her hand from his thigh while signing the last piece of paper she had given him.

‘It’s been a while since we’ve fucked’ Lizzie then said, looking at Tommy with her dark eyes.

‘It has’ was all he responded with before clearing his throat and getting on with business matters.

Your Residence, Birmingham, 17 September 1924

Meanwhile, earlier that day, your father had told you that he had business to attend to in London. As usual, he didn’t tell you what this business was about but you expected that it had to do with the killing of the high court judge and the three men who, several years ago, caused you so much pain and suffering.

Your father seemed pleased about their killing when he called in at 10 o’clock that morning, asking you whether you had read the paper. Nonetheless, there would be an investigation and, knowing your father, you knew that he was desperate to know as to who did the killing and, more importantly, why.

When you asked him when he would return, he advised you that he wouldn’t be back until Sunday afternoon and you couldn’t help but chuckle before wishing him safe travels.

At around 7 o’clock that evening, you had a quick bath before picking out your clothes for the evening. You were excited to see Tommy again. But you were also slightly nervous, knowing that you might be spending the night with him.

You had only ever been with one man who was nothing but cruel to you in the end. Intimacy didn’t come naturally to you ever since the night you were hurt and abused.

But you knew that you had to get over all this eventually and, for some reason, you desired Tommy like you never desired any man before. There was something about him that not only made you feel at ease but also attractive and worthy.

He had an aura about him which no one had ever matched and, deep down inside, you knew that you both shared struggles no one else could comprehend.

When you told him about the night your life changed for the worse and your thoughts about ending your own suffering many times in the past, he told you that he understood how you felt.

He told you about France, he told you about the death of his wife and how, on many occasions, he didn’t think it was worth it to carry on like this.

But, he had a son he loved and cared for and assured you that, one day, you would have someone who makes life worth living for.

Of course, you wanted him to be right and, until then, you were determined to try and enjoy life and indulge on what was at offer.

‘Fear nothing Love. Everything after is extra’ was what Tommy had said to you when you told him that you had nearly died that night. And he was right, everything after was extra.

With these thoughts running through your mind, you slipped on some nice lingerie, a nice dress and applied a generous amount of make-up.

At exactly 8 o’clock, you heard a car pull up in front of the property and you looked around for the guards who, miraculously, had disappeared.

You quickly put on your coat, grabbed your handbag and walked outside into the cold autumn air.  Without second thoughts, you walked to Tommy’s car and, as soon as you opened the door and sat down in the passenger seat, he pulled you close for a kiss. You didn’t even get a chance to greet him before his lips were firmly connected to yours.  

His lips were warm and soft, just as you remembered and you immediately parted your lips, allowing his tongue to enter and explore. His hands were caressing your face as he kissed you for what felt like an eternity.

‘You look beautiful’ he eventually said, quickly gazing over you after your lips drifted apart before putting the car into gear and driving off.

‘How did you know that my father would be going to London?’ you then asked without worrying about where Tommy was taking you.

Without answering your question immediately, Tommy swallowed harshly, realising that your father must be one of the men he asked Michael to research which, yet again, would pose another hurdle for him and you.

‘I didn’t know that he was going to London but I did know about some rallies in Birmingham tonight, keeping all the coppers busy. I was certain that he would have to work’ Tommy explained before asking you for your father’s name.

‘It’s James and he will be in London all weekend’ you smirked, causing Tommy chuckle.

‘All weekend, eh?’ Tommy said while realising that none of the three men on Moss’s list who were travelling to London were named James.

‘Are you alright Tommy?’ you then went on to ask as you became to notice how quiet Tommy had gotten after you told him about your father.

‘Yes Love, there is just some business on my mind’ Tommy explained before changing the topic.

‘Since your father is gone for a while longer than I had expected, how would you like to spend the weekend with me at my house?’ Tommy then went on to ask before realising that this might make you uncomfortable after what you had told him the last time you saw each other and, before you could answer, he qualified his proposal. ‘Separate bedrooms of course and you are free to leave whenever you choose’ he added quickly, taking your hand and running over it gently while trying to concentrate on the road.

‘I would love that Tommy’ you answered equally quick while your hand searched for his thigh.

Tommy’s Residence, Birmingham, 17 September 1924

After a thirty-minute drive filled with interesting conversations, you finally arrived at Tommy’s house and, when he pulled up in the driveway, you were speechless.  

‘How many people do live here exactly?’ you asked while looking at the large mansion.

‘Just me, my son Charles and some maids’ Tommy said as he parked the car and before walking around it, opening the door for you like a gentleman.

‘Right’ you said, clearly lost for words.

‘Common. It’s warmer inside’ Tommy said with a warm smile as he reached for your hand.

As soon as you walked into the door, you were greeted by one of the maids who took your coat and provided Tommy with a list of messages received via phone during the day.

Tommy quickly skimmed over the list and decided that he had to make a quick phone call before he would join you in the reading room.

You were impressed by the decoration in the house, looking around and into each and every direction while Tommy’s maid Francis walked you to the reading room.

‘Miss, would you like a glass of wine, or champaign perhaps?’ Francis then asked and you quickly shook your head, thanking her for her offer.

From the reading room, you could hear Tommy talking to someone in quite a firm tone and you began to wonder how he came into possession of such wealth and position of power as a gypsy.

While you waited for Tommy to return, you walked around the reading room, looking at the books and artwork and, just as you did, a young boy walked inside wearing pyjamas.

‘Hey, you must be Charles’ you said with a friendly voice and the boy nodded shyly.

‘Are you one of the new maids?’ Charlie asked and you quickly shook your head just as Francis walked in behind him.

‘No running away, remember’ Francis said and, just as she did, Tommy finished his phone call and quickly gave Charlie a hug before telling him that it was time to go to bed.

You said goodbye to Charlie and couldn’t help but marvel about the fact that he looked just like Tommy.

‘You are very lucky. He is a beautiful young boy’ you said just after Francis carried Charlie to bed.

‘I am sure you will be just as lucky one day, eh’ Tommy said before pouring you glass of whiskey which you chose to decline.

‘I cannot have children’ you explained, holding your stomach momentarily and, immediately, Tommy sat down next to you and took you into his arms.

‘I am sorry’ he said quietly as you leaned against his shoulder.

‘It’s alright. I made peace with it a long time ago’ you said, still glancing around to take in the artwork and décor.

‘Now, tell me, what is it that you do’ you said, looking into his deep blue eyes.

‘Lots of things’ Tommy responded before pressing his lips onto yours.

‘Lots of things? Right’ you giggled before asking Tommy how he managed to get the security guards your father had employed to turn a blind eye on you leaving that evening and not returning to your home until Sunday.

‘I paid them a substantial amount of money’ Tommy said bluntly.

‘You paid them?’ you asked with surprise and Tommy nodded. ‘Yes, I paid them. Like most things these days, their loyalty was for sale’ Tommy said with a cheeky smile.

‘You know, it seems to me that everyone does what you tell them to do’ you then said, biting your lip as you did.

‘Perhaps’ Tommy then said with a chuckle before causing you to lean against him.

As you did, you could his heart pound and smell the scent of his aftershave. It was divine and you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him tightly.

As you held each other close, Tommy gently kissed the top of your head causing you to feel relaxed a little more.

‘Did you want to get some rest? I had Francis prepare one of the guest rooms for you’ Tommy said as he noticed how quiet you had gotten. But the truth was, you simply enjoyed his closeness, his smell and listening to the sound of his beating heart.

‘No Tommy. I also don’t want to stay in the guestroom’ you said shyly but with a slight smirk on your face as you looked up into his deep blue eyes.

‘Where do you want to stay then, eh?’ Tommy smirked, his voice low and gentle, as his hand was slowly feeling down your side, causing your heart to skip a beat when his fingertips brushed against the side of your breast.

‘I thought I could stay in your bedroom…with you’ you said shyly as your eyes met again and he smiled warmly at you, as if he was assuring you that he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want him to do.

‘I think that could be arranged’ Tommy said before kissing you gently as his fingers continued to traverse your body, slowly walking onto your thigh.

You watched his hand intently after you lips parted from his, feeling frozen like a doe in the headlights but still safe and secure somehow.

You knew that he would stop if you asked him to, so there was no harm in enjoying the pleasant sensations.

You scooted a little closer to him, looking into his eyes with your head on his shoulder and smiling up at him. He had such amazing eyes. And hands. One of which slowly smoothed down your thigh ever so gently.

Your breath caught in your throat as those fingers delicately brushed up your inner thigh and you lifted your head to say something, but you didn’t know what. Your body begged him continue but your mind fought it.

He whispered softly, his lips brushing against your ear and his warm breath causing little goose bumps on your neck. ‘If you would like me to stop, let me know’ he said and your lips quivered as you tried to make a decision.

Logic was fighting a losing battle against libido. You had never been touched this way, not even by yourself and the man you had been with in the past was far from being gentle.

Your internal monologue was shattered when he finally reached beneath your skirt slowly and gently. You leaned into him and buried your face in his neck to stifle a whimper as two more fingers joined the first, casually stroking your through your panties. He smelled wonderful too.

Your body moved seemly with a mind of its own as your hips rising gently with each soft caress of those wonderful fingers. His other hand joined in, his fingertips caressing your cheek and playing across your neck. You couldn’t focus on anything more complicated than that thanks to the stimulation down below and the warmth of his fingers moving along the V of your blouse.

You quivered with desire from his manipulation, one hand now running over your breast and the other dipping his fingers just feeling along the edge of your panties. You looked up at him as he leaned towards you, his lips slowly moving towards yours but teasingly sliding along your cheek instead to whisper in your ear again.

‘Would you like to continue this in my bedroom?’ Tommy asked and you mumbled something in the affirmative.

Tommy smiled at your shyness and took your hand and helped you to your feet. You held onto him for support, your legs still shaky from the experience. He gallantly gave you his arm and you held onto it as you left the reading room and made your way upstairs to Tommy’s bedroom.

When you arrived in his bedroom, Tommy guided you all the way to the front of his large bed which is where he stood before you, reaching out to gently caress your cheek.

You smiled softly and looked at him through half-closed eyes, leaning your face against his hand slightly.

‘I am nervous Tommy’ you shuddered.

‘We don’t have to do anything Y/N’ Tommy said reassuringly.

‘I want to. I just don’t know if I am ready to go all the way…you know’ you said nervously, biting your lip again as you did.

‘We won’t. Just let me make you feel good, eh’ Tommy said gently as he winked at you and you literally had no idea what he meant by that, but nodded anyway.

Tommy then trailed his fingertips down your arm before he kissed you again gently. But this time, his lips moved from yours to your shoulder and neck in no time. You felt yourself start to tremble again. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t move. You could barely breathe. All your being was focused on Tommy and you wanted him so badly.

He looked into your eyes with his piercing gaze, placing his hands on your shoulders, whispering softly with his lips almost touching yours.

‘Turn around’ he said and you complied with his request. His hands moved your hair out of the way gently before his lips started to kiss the back of your neck all while his hands started to unzip your dress.

Your dress fell to the floor almost instantly and you stepped out of it slowly before turning around to face Tommy.

You covered your stomach with your hands, covering up your scar as you stood in front of Tommy nervously. Tommy smiled at the sight before him, drawing another blush from you as he traced his finger down the strap and along the edge of the material of your bra, gliding lightly over the gentle swell of your breast.

You stiffened again at feeling a warm gentle touch where you hadn’t let anyone touch you for a long time, but forced yourself to relax and enjoy it.

Tommy then moved your hands away from your stomach gently. ‘Don’t hide it. You are beautiful and I want to see all of you’ Tommy whispered as he traced his finger up your cleavage slowly, drawing a line up along your neck and across your jaw to your chin, tipping your face up to meet his gaze.

He then leaned down and made your head spin by flicking the tip of his tongue along your cleavage. You shuddered and moaned softly, holding onto his shoulders as your knees wobbled under you. You tangled your fingers in his hair as his lips and tongue teased your skin, eventually wrapping around one strap and slowly pulling it down your shoulder, then doing the same to the other. Unsure of how to react but filled with desire, you kissed and nibbled at his neck as he had done with you. He tasted good too. His fingers flicked briefly behind your back and you felt your bra clasp fall open. You let the bra fall and felt your cheeks flush slightly as your breasts were revealed, almost covering them with your hands before remembering what Tommy had told you.

‘Lie down Love’ he then instructed while he took off his vest and shirt, leaving him wearing nothing but his black suit pants.

After he got partially undressed, he joined you on the large bed and, yet again, guided your hands away from covering yourself up and kissed you passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your nervous giggle turned into an elated sigh as he pulled away and, almost suddenly began to trail kisses down your chest and breasts. Your sigh then turned into a moan when his tongue slowly flicked your nipple before mimicked the circular motions of his fingers with his tongue. Your fingers tangled in his hair, your head fell back, your eyes fluttered as he made you feel alive.

You whimpered softly as his lips wrapped around your nipple, tenderly sucking on it and lashing at it with his tongue, fondling your other breast with one hand as the other smoothed down your belly. Following his lead, you felt down his body to find his belt buckle, keeping one arm wrapped around him for fear that you might faint. But, his hand covered yours quickly and placed it back on his shoulder, causing you to eye him curiously.

‘Tonight is about you Love’ Tommy said with a grin and you gasped as he caressed his way down to your hips, softly kissing down your belly. Was he going to kiss you there too you wondered as you watched his progression intently.

You arched your body against his lips as they softly pressed against your belly button and Tommy shifted his hands to brush against your inner thighs, smiling up at you as your body reacted to his touch. He then slipped his fingers under the edge of your panties and pulled them down slowly, letting his touch linger on your long legs. She blushed profusely as you lay there beneath him completely naked, the night air teasing all your sensitive spots.

His hands slowly moved up your legs, gently caressing your thighs before parting them gently.

He traversed your body with agonizing slowness and you tensed as he kissed the inside of your thighs.

He wasn’t really going to kiss you there, was he? You blushed even more and whimpered softly with desire as Tommy traced little circles with his tongue slowly towards your centre until, finally, his face hovered between your legs, pausing to enjoy your arousal.

‘Is it alright if I kiss you there?’ Tommy asked, looking up at you as you twitched at the feather light touch of his lips followed by the hot air of his breath.

‘Are you serious?’ you forced out with a moan.

‘Yeah’ Tommy said with a low voice and you shyly nodded, thinking it was a strange request until, suddenly, his lips touched your wet mound.

‘Oh Jesus’ you moaned at the sensation as he placed gently small kisses over your mound but your moan soon turned into scream of pleasure when, suddenly, Tommy darted his tongue and licked through your slit.

His teasing had already brought you to the brink and you felt like you would explode. What was this feeling, you wondered? It was new and unfamiliar to you.

You inhaled sharply at the pleasure coursing through you as Tommy’s warm tongue traced slowly up your slit and then slowly back down. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pressed his face between your legs, your whole body seemingly on fire as he licked up and down, moving a little deeper inside you with each pass. He used his soft lips to tenderly nibble on your folds, triggering another incoherent outburst of encouragement. Then he ever so gently pressed his lips to your clit.

Your entire body writhed with pleasure from his touch, fireworks going off in your mind. Slowly Tommy smoothed his tongue over your clit, back and forth, up and down. You moaned loudly, all thoughts gone from your mind save for his tongue. He then caressed your thigh briefly and brought his hand to your slit, where he began to gently glide his finger in and out of you. By this point you let go of his hair and dug your nails into the sheets, shuddering as his finger moved within you. Then he added a second finger and your moans became even louder as he stroked a special spot on each pass, lighting up all of your senses.

‘Oh my god Tommy’ you moaned loudly as, finally, you began to experience your first orgasm, convulsing as the pleasure washed through your like a wildfire.

You were a shaking mess after as little as ten minutes of Tommy pleasuring you with his tongue and finger, crying and whimpering for him. Screaming his name for all the maids in the house to hear.

After you finally came down from your high, Tommy gently withdrew his tongue and fingers from you and rose, kissing his way back up your body gently.

You wrapped your arms tight around him, nuzzling his neck as your body quivered from your experience.

‘You taste fucking amazing Love’ he then grinned, clearly satisfied by what he had just achieved.

‘Really?’ you chuckled, still surprised by his actions. You didn’t realise that anyone does things like that, kissing and licking intimate places like this.

‘Yeah, really’ Tommy smirked before he kissed you again, gently but yet passionately and, as he did, you could taste your juices on his tongue and on his lips.

‘See’ Tommy smirked after your lips had parted and you couldn’t help but giggle.

‘Now can I taste you?’ you asked as you slipped your hand over his crotch, feeling how hard he was, straining against his pants.

‘There is no need Love. I can wait’ Tommy said reassuringly, not wanting to push you farther than you were really prepared to go. It was also obvious to him that you had never done this before.

‘Please’ you then said shyly, raising up over him slightly and he nodded, giving you permission to proceed with whatever you are comfortable with.

You began to place little sucking kisses on his neck, then on his shoulders. Then you began to kiss down his chest, occasionally adding a little lick here and there just as he had done with you. Tommy smiled down at you as your fingers and tongue slowly walked down his body.

Your hands were trembling with anticipation as you unbuckled and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Then you pulled his pants down along with his briefs and freed his cock. His erection stood proud before you, begging to be touched.

Tommy let out a quiet moan as you reached out and gingerly brushed your fingertip along the head, feeling it respond to your touch. You then began to gently stroke up and down his shaft, watching his expressions to try to find what he liked best. You slipped your finger between your lips briefly to wet it, then drew circles around the head before bringing your mouth down towards his hard member.

Experimentally you extended your tongue and brushed it against the tip, smiling as Tommy let out a sexy growl of approval. You began to circle the head with your tongue, smiling up at him each time you made him twitch or moan. Then you closed your lips around the head of his shaft, hungrily lapping and sucking.

‘That’s it Love, fuck’ Tommy moaned while brushing his hands gently through your hair. He seemed to like this best of all, judging by his growls.

You soon began to taste small amounts of precum which had escaped from his shaft and you were savouring the taste and texture and the pleasure you were giving him.

‘Come up here Love. I am close’ Tommy barely managed to force out after you bobbed your head up and down his shaft for the past ten minutes, your lips closing and sucking around him firmly while your tongue explored every inch of his hardness.

‘Cum in my mouth Tommy’ you demanded while disconnecting your lips briefly, causing Tommy to growl even louder.

‘Fuck’ Tommy growled within seconds, causing you to smile all while you could feel his shaft pulsate inside your mouth.

Then, another few seconds later, he bucked his hips slightly and involuntarily, while, with one loud groan, he began to fill your mouth with his sweet and warm cum.

Another curse word soon escaped him as he let rope after rope of his warm seed flow into you and you were quite surprised by how much there was of it.

After you collected at all in your mouth and Tommy slowly began to come down from his high, you looked up at him with your eyes full of questions.

Unsure about what to do, you swallowed, causing Tommy to groan again briefly as he watched. Quite obviously, it turned him and you were quite satisfied being able to pleasure him the same way he pleasured you.

‘Come here, eh’ Tommy then ordered with a gentle voice and crawled back up on his body and leaned your head against his chest, listening to his still somewhat racing heart.

‘So, people do that kind of stuff’ you huffed out with shy but cute giggle.

‘Yeah’ Tommy chuckled, adoring your shyness in sweetness.

Tommy’s Residence, Birmingham, 18 September 1924

After having explored your sexual desires with Tommy and some more gentle intimacy and pillow talk, you eventually managed to fall asleep at around 11 o’clock with your body pressed firmly against Tommy’s.

Together, you only needed about half the bed as your bodies were intermingled with each other and you loved feeling his closeness.

But, unfortunately for you, it was around 4 o’clock in the morning that yet another one of your nightmares ripped through you, causing you to kick and scream in your sleep.

Your nightmares always felt real, causing you to wake in a state of panic and anxiety.

Just as your dream was worsening and you let out a loud cry, you could hear Tommy’s voice, calm and deep.

‘Y/N, shhh, it’s alright’ you heard Tommy say gently, his hands running through your hair as he held you close just as you woke from your nightmare.

‘It’s just a dream. You are safe, eh’ he said as he held onto you, realising that you were close to having a panic attack.

‘Tommy’ you said with a small cry as your breathing was easing almost immediately.

‘I am here. It was just a dream’ he said again calmly and reassuring before kissing your forehead.

‘I am sorry Tommy. I must have woken you’ you said, looking at him through the dim light of the small lamp which Tommy had left on upon your request.

‘No Love, I have trouble sleeping and I get those too, the nightmares’ Tommy then said as you rested back against him but this time with your eyes wide open.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ you then went to ask after a few minutes of silence.

‘Yeah, common. I know just the place, eh’ Tommy suggested with a warm smile and off you went into the cold spring night.

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[drabsyo]

I was wondering...I was always confused about Narcissa’s hair. It’s been a while since I read the books. Did she color it blonde to show her now belonging to House Malfoys. Or was it naturally blonde? Movies confused me a bit I guess.

Yes, this had me confused too! I've agonized and toiled over it, more than I probably should, about how I should draw her hair because people have generally different views, which is totally understandable! 💕

And I've always wanted to discuss it, so now that I've been given a reason to... Well.

If you take a look at some of my Narcissa fanart, you'll notice the different ways I'd color her hair. I was so confused. Is she a light blonde? Dark blonde? A mix of raven hair and blonde hair? If she has blonde hair then why does her family have (mostly) dark hair? And WHY does she have blue eyes?! This woman is absolutely confusing! (Which is kind of, you know, fitting because Narcissa always loves to be a mystery to literally anyone lol)

So I did my homework, asked around, and scoured every bit of information, canon or otherwise, that I could find about her. It led me to this:

In canon, this is what the Black sisters look like. You can find the page here. Narcissa is a child here, and already has blonde hair. So we can go ahead and safely assume that she was born with natural blonde hair. But in the films, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. I don't actually know why they gave her that hair color, maybe so that the audiences wouldn't question her blood relations with the Blacks--I don't know. I really don't. But now we have a book version Narcissa, one who has full blonde hair. And a movie version Narcissa, one who has raven and blonde hair. At least, that's how the different hair colors started: a movie version, and a book version.

So... here's where it gets confusing.

To my knowledge, it isn't actually explained why her hair color is the way it is in both the movies and the books. Having blonde hair does raise many questions, how is she the "only" blonde in a family of dark hair and dark eyes? To top it all off, it gets even more confusing, because fanon writes and draws her either as a full blonde or a mix of raven and blonde hair. We just have this large pile to sift through of her having either hair color. No one actually explains anything. She's just... infuriatingly there. She's either blonde or raven haired and blonde. BUT fanfiction writers, as I've observed, give their own reasons why Narcissa's hair color is the way it is in their respective stories. And it's actually pretty creative and interesting! It adds even greater depth to her character, and it fits the narrative of the story even better. Remember, the character we're dealing with is Narcissa Black. One of her main traits is "she won't do anything unless there is a clear purpose behind it." This character is deliberate, meticulous, and she makes sure to plan ahead at all times. And so, some fanfiction writers decide to play on that.

You can skip this part if you want to avoid spoilers but I've compiled a small list of instances in (Cissamione) fanfiction where Narcissa's hair is mentioned.

🔹 In Extinction by rubikanon in Chapter 10: Build and Break, Hermione asks Narcissa about it. Here, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. She explains that she only decided to dye it blonde to "fit in with the Malfoys." We can gather two things from that alone, which resonates with her character perfectly: 1.) Narcissa is loyal and 2.) Narcissa purposefully wants to show the rest of the world how loyal she is by committing to having blonde hair. The woman has some serious commitment, and it shows. But now, the way that it's slowly growing back into her natural black hair color, hints that perhaps Narcissa no longer wishes to fit in with the Malfoys. However, if we take an even closer look, we can safely assume that Narcissa isn't the kind of person to just leave her hair color "unattended" like that. Remember, she's meticulous. And this is a big deal for her, the fact that she's just kind of letting it grow back instead of either fully dyeing it back to black, or dyeing it back to blonde. It suggests that perhaps she's a little unsure this time, perhaps it is her uncertainty that is the reason why it's now a mix of both. Another grey area? Or maybe it's actually something more deliberate? Maybe now, she likes that it's a mix of both. That other half now being solely for Draco, and not to fit in (completely) with the Malfoys any longer. Who knows why Narcissa does things the way she does? We can speculate to the ends of the earth, or be as smart as Hermione Granger (or with the case of Extinction, see Hermione's thoughts), but something tells me we'd still be a good step behind.

"Which one is your natural hair color?" I wondered aloud.

(Narcissa) She glanced up at the unexpected question. I was relieved she hadn't sensed my attention yet. It's not like I meant anything by it, I told myself. She was so beautiful, one couldn't help but notice. And feel physically drawn to her. And want to see her two-toned hair fanned across her back, slipping over the bare skin, silky beneath my fingers...

"Why do you ask?" Her query brought me back to reality, and I hurriedly corrected my imagination to include a pretty dress covering the rest of her.

"I don't know." I chewed the inside of my cheek, suppressing my other thoughts. "I'm just curious."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "You've seen enough of my relatives to guess which color is genetic. The blond is something I added to fit in with the Malfoys, after Draco was born." She was quiet for a moment. "He looks so much like his father. I suppose I wanted to share some resemblance."

🔹 In Killing Me Softly by Looktotheedges in Chapter 4: Nagging, Hermione suggests that perhaps Narcissa is part Veela because of her blonde hair and very attractive features, like Fleur. Which is this whole other theory/plot that's very interesting, but won't be discussed in this post. Narcissa tells Hermione that Sirius has always been blonde, and that it isn't out of the question for her to be blonde either. Sirius Black. A blonde. I know! Maybe it's there because it's funny that Sirius is actually blonde like Narcissa. Prissy, haughty, lady-like Narcissa. Arguably the 'girliest' cousin that he has. No, no, no. He doesn't want to be anything like Narcissa. Anyway, if that's the reason, I think that's hilarious and cute.

Narcissa turns away. 'I am aware my appearance is frightfully drab. Work has been…'

Hermione holds back a disbelieving scoff. 'Narcissa. You always look beautiful. And you’re talking to the witch with grass in her hair who practically lives in her office all week.'

Narcissa just leans further over the crib. 'A blonde little boy. It has been so long since… I can almost imagine…'

Hermione stands next to her. Looks down at the peacefully sleeping Louis. He does look remarkably like Draco. 'Are you sure there’s no Veela blood in you? You weren’t secretly switched at birth?'

'Like a changeling?'

'It would explain your blonde hair.'

'Sirius was also blonde, it is not completely out of the question for us Blacks.'

What?!

(...) 'I know. But it is the truth. He was blond until he was about seven… then it began to darken. Mousy. Dull. He wanted to look cool and brooding instead, so he got his hands on some kind of charm right before he set off for Hogwarts. A new, edgy Sirius. It was around then he forbade us from calling him Siri. Said it sounded too girly.'

🔹 In Fixed in Time by TheWorldsaBeastofBurden in Chapter 9: Sisters and Saviors, it's also tackled a little humorously. Andromeda let's a little comment slip while they're in the middle of trying to heal Hermione. Something funny, something that suggests Andromeda and Bella, when they were children, have always wondered why Narcissa is blonde unlike them.

The first words spoken occurred after they’d risen and attempted their casting. Andromeda’s preparedness to take on their task had been clear in her mind so Narcissa rose with her sister, wrapped an arm around her waist and held her near as the woman raised her wand to draw up the rest of the injury she’d dropped, half a slash across Hermione’s hip bone…

That remained half, as Andromeda growled out, “...it isn’t working.” she looked to Narcissa, “Why aren’t you powering me?”

What nonsense? “I am!” she insisted. She was! Or “I- I am trying to!” Her magic was active and alive, pulsing to rise from her skin and transfer into Andromeda’s but it- it wasn’t working! “Could...could it be that you were disowned?”

“Disowning doesn’t take away the fact that we share blood, our magic is directly related. Ugh, Bella always said you were adopted!”

“Oh ha- oh.”

“...oh?” Andromeda returned.

“...it’s not an issue of power. It is what I intend to aid in casting,” Narcissa slowly worked out. Oh, it was most blessed Mister Goyle could be brought to assist the present Hermione. If her present self had been brought to aid Andromeda? “...I cannot harm Hermione.”

Andromeda sighed with some frustration. “I understand you are so tenderly in love-”

“It isn’t- I’m avowed! I- when we arrived from the future we had to escape Malfoy Manor, I couldn’t bring Hermione through the wards without...I couldn’t add her directly, that would be visible. I had to...attach her permission to mine.”

🔹 In Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss (Menzosarres), which probably gives one of the most interesting backstories for Narcissa's hair, for why it's blonde. I can't put a clip of the scene here without hogging up a huge chunk of space on your dash, so I'll try to explain it as best I can instead.

Understand that these come with serious 🛑spoilers🛑 so please do read it at your own risk.

In Glass Silence, Narcissa's hair and eye color was black at birth. But after an accident with raw magic, something Bellatrix wasn't able to control when they were children, Narcissa almost dies. Bellatrix, using even more raw magic, tries desperately to pull Narcissa's "life force" back, but at the cost of losing the eumelanin that made Narcissa's eyes and hair black. Narcissa survived, but now has very little eumelanin left, which is why she's so pale, blonde, and has blue eyes. Every time Narcissa looks at a mirror, her reflection is a reminder of the day she almost died. Bella, on the other hand, is reminded of that day every single time she looks at Narcissa.

So! These are only a few fanfictions I could think of at the top of my head that tackles the issue of Narcissa's hair. In the books, to my knowledge, she is described as having blonde hair and very pale skin.

But let's take another deep dive, if you're up for it.

These are mostly theories, which are largely unconfirmed, but I think they're interesting to think about.

There's this description in the wiki:

"Narcissa Malfoy is described as tall, slim, "nice looking", and very pale, with blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a clear, cold voice. Her hair colouring thus differs from most of the House of Black, who generally have dark hair, though Narcissa does possess the arrogant good looks characteristic of her family."

There's also this pinterest photo of the Black sisters being compared to each other side by side, descriptively and physically. I'm so sorry, I don't know who drew it, but here's a link to the post on pinterest.

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

Which is interesting because this hints that she's... different. It's a bit literal in this sense--she comes from a pureblood family, arguably the most influential and notorious one, the Blacks, who mostly have dark hair and eyes, and yet her physical appearance directly contrast that. There's also the matter of her namesake. She's the only Black to be named after a flower instead of a galaxy or a star. We aren't really given any explanation why she's the only one who's different. Even Sirius, who fought and died for the side of the Light, is named after the brightest star in the sky. Even Andromeda. It's been said that this is actually meant to be a parallel of some sort to Lily Evans. Narcissa and Lily are both named after flowers, even Petunia (Lily's sister). And I know there's this thing where it's a tie up to how Harry was ultimately saved by a mother's love: Harry lived at the beginning because of his mother's love, and Harry lives once again at the end of the books because Narcissa, a mother who wanted to save her own son, saved him.

If you read that scene in the books where Harry is saved by Narcissa, the whole scene is actually... pretty soft? There's that sort of disarming softness about Narcissa in that moment, where Harry expected to be callously dragged and prodded for a heartbeat. Instead, he gets a surprisingly gentle touch, a curtain of long blonde hair shielding him from the darkness, and the kind of tenderness he wouldn't expect from his enemies, "Is Draco alive?"

It's almost like Narcissa's appearance is something of a "tell". With Andromeda, she's described to have kind eyes, open, unguarded. She inherited her family's dark eyes and dark hair, and she even looks like Bellatrix's twin. I suppose we could say, Andromeda wants to fight that in any way she can by being openly kind. Narcissa is quite literally the opposite--guarded eyes, stoic expressions, cool and calculated emotions. We're veering into this fine line between fanon and canon in terms of their characterization (but only due to lack of canon materials) but personally, I think Narcissa having blonde hair and blue eyes is somewhat more fitting for her character. Again, this line:

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

It's like that one glaringly obvious hint that everyone overlooks simply because... because it's the most obvious one. "Me! I'm different! I'm the last person you'd expect, but it really is me!"

Anyway. I've rambled on long enough. Hope this clears up some of that confusion, anon. Hoping it didn't ADD even more confusion... 😂 At the end of the day, this is just me speculating, gushing, and being One Big Fool™. So.

But either way, blonde hair, dark hair, mix of both, I adore her. Pretty much.

[goddammitstacey]

Here have a queer retelling of Little Red Riding Hood

The forest is magnificent. Giant yew trees reach for the sky, their leaves sending dappled sunlight down toward the moss-covered floor like a parting gift. Even Shiloh can’t deny the majesty of the place, as much as she might have preferred the wood around her a little more dead, with four legs, and holding up a tankard of beer.

But alas, good things apparently come to those who wait. And wait. Shiloh sighs, pulling her pelt more securely around her as she shifts into a warmer patch of sunlight.

“Are you almost finished?” she asks. “It’s nearing dusk, my love.”

The nearest tree is a monster. As thick around as three broad men standing in a circle, arms outstretched, fingertip to fingertip. It hides Shiloh’s wife from view. Just.

When Kae rounds the trunk of the tree, she makes it look a fraction of its years just by virtue of the contrast.

“Almost,” Kae says, broad hands smoothing over the bark like she’s soothing a spooked horse. “The bairn is sick with heart rot, the poor thing. I need to shore her up before it gets worse.”

Shiloh can’t find it in herself to be annoyed. Kae’s described heart rot enough for her to have some sympathy for the poor tree. And it doesn’t hurt that seeing her wife full of care makes a puddle out of her.

“It’s a good thing I enjoy watching you work,” Shiloh says, unable to help her soft smile. “Because it’s all you do.”

Kae looks to her, sharing the smile for a moment before her eyes snap suddenly back to her charge.

Shiloh tenses on instinct. “What?”

Kae’s alert, but not reaching for her axe. Shiloh relaxes her hold on her pelt but keeps it in hand for swift action anyway.

“There’s a girl in the forest,” Kae says. “Small. Alone. The… the trees are agitated.”

“Over a girl?” Shiloh says, confusion reflected in the look Kae sends her. “That’s a new one.”

Kae turns her attention back to her patient. “I’m almost finished here, then we can-”

“I’ll go on ahead,” Shiloh says, stretching her back out as she stands. “I’ve been sitting too long anyway, I’m going to grow moss.”

Kae doesn’t pick up the thread of the joke, looking as agitated as the trees around her must be. “I don’t…”

“I’ll be okay,” Shiloh says, stepping forward to clasp her wife’s hand between hers. “I have my pelt. I’ll even take my wrap-”

“No,” Kae says quickly, stopping Shiloh with a hand on her wrist as she reaches for their pack. “Don’t wear red.”

Shiloh raises an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said the other night, my love.”

And oh yes, now who’s wearing red? Shiloh grins as she uses her grip to pull Kae within reach, pecking her on one rosey cheek.

“It’s the trees,” Kae says, brushing a strand of Shiloh’s dark hair from her face. “They’re saying, don’t wear red.”

“How judgemental of them,” Shiloh says, but leaves her red wrap safely in their pack anyway.

Tracking the girl isn’t difficult. She smells of hay and woodsmoke, a combination that is as much out of place as her humanity this far into the woods. Shiloh hangs back, employing more caution than she would have otherwise, her wife’s worried frown at the fore of her mind.

The girl is indeed alone. Shiloh closes the distance between them until she can spy the girl’s back through the trees. Her hooded cloak is flapping around her ankles as she walks.

Her hooded red cloak.

Shiloh frowns and ups her pace, circling around the girl on soft feet until she finds a clearing up ahead with a downed tree to serve as a casual perch. The girl comes upon her bare minutes later, startling to a stop despite Shiloh’s deliberate, friendly smile and unassuming posture. Unfortunately there’s little she can do about her state of dress.

The girl can’t be older than seven summers, blonde hair tufting out of her hood as curious eyes look Shiloh over. Shiloh doesn’t blame her. She’s an unusual sight at the best of times.

Finally the girl breaks the silence. “Why are you naked?”

The bluntness of the question stirs a real smile to Shiloh’s features. “I’m not naked,” she says. “I’ve this pelt.”

The girl frowns at Shiloh’s wolf pelt, twisted about her in an approximation of a tunic. “It’s not very big.”

She’s not wrong. But then… Shiloh rises to her feet – carefully,  so as not to spook the girl further. “It doesn’t have to be.”

The little girl watches her like one might watch a particularly interesting snake on one’s path. Cautious. Cautious but curious. Shiloh knows the sort. She sees it in the mirror those mornings Kae lets them hire a real room.

“What are you doing in the woods alone, child?” Shiloh says.

The girl rises to her full height, like she’s being inspected by someone with a badge. “I’m visiting The Grandmother,” she says, practically pronouncing the capital ‘T’.

Strange. Usually the trees warn Kae of any human settlements in the woods they travel. Kae’s parentage and Shiloh’s proclivity for travelling skyclad make chance meetings with humans something to be avoided.

“And where does she live?” Shiloh asks.

The little girl points along the direction she’s been travelling, deeper into the woods. “I’m to follow the sun to her cottage,” she says.

Right. Shiloh hums as she thinks. Kae isn’t far off and almost finished her tree-doctoring by her own admittance. She will catch up when she can. “May I walk with you, child?” Shiloh asks. “I’d feel much better knowing you got there safe, is all.”

After a lengthy pause, the girl nods, which is for the best really. It’s much easier to walk by her side than track her from behind.

The girl’s name is Scarlett.

“That’s an interesting name,” Shiloh says, the red of Scarlett’s cloak growing more vivid in Shiloh’s peripheral vision.

Scarlett shrugs. “Not really. There are lots of girls named Scarlett in the village.”

“Is that right?” Shiloh says, feeling more and more like she has a handful of puzzle pieces but no interlocking edges to fit them together.

They come upon the cottage as the sun kisses the distant mountains, sending the woods into an early dusk. Shiloh’s mildly put out when she notices how perfectly normal the place looks. The gardens are well-tended and the stoop swept. There’s even a cheerful glow warming the windows.

“This looks like the place,” Shiloh says, sweeping the clearing for something to explain the slow drip of dread down her spine.

Scarlett huffs a sigh next to her. She’d taken Shiloh’s hand not long into their walk and her little palm is warm and soft in Shiloh’s own.

“I guess so,” Scarlett says.

“You guess so?” Shiloh says, eye catching on a large shadow moving within the cottage. “You’ve never visited your grandmother before?”

“The Grandmother,” Scarlett corrects her. “And no.”

She says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world, but as Shiloh looks down at her, the red of her cloak seeming to glow in the darkness, she can’t help but think the situation is the very furthest from normal they can get.

“Is that visitors I hear?” Comes a voice from within the cottage. Shiloh looks up as the shadow in the cottage window moves toward the door. It gets smaller as it goes which is a funny thing, because Shiloh could swear it’s moving toward the light source…

The shadow is bare steps from the door when Shiloh gives an exaggerated shiver.

“Are you cold?” Scarlett asks.

“Yes,” Shiloh says quickly. “I’m afraid I didn’t think ahead. Might I borrow your cloak, child?”

Scarlett looks torn. “I was told not to-”

“Only for a minute or two,” Shiloh says, over the creak of the door. “I promise.”

“Okay…”

Shiloh whips the cloak from Scarlett’s shoulders and about her own just in time to face the figure in the doorway who-

Is a little, old woman.

Shiloh balks at the sight, eyes warring with every other instinct telling her to run, fight, hide. Shift.

The Grandmother smiles. Her face is like a weathered peach and her hands look frail as spider’s silk. They clasp and unclasp in front of her, the only tell that she too feels the tension that’s fallen on the clearing like a woollen blanket.

“Where are you, my child?” The Grandmother asks, peering across the clearing. “Come closer, I’m afraid my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

Scarlett is stepping forward before Shiloh can move to stop her, small hand leaving only a warm imprint on Shiloh’s palm as she lets go.

“Ah, there you are,” The Grandmother says, with a smile warm like home. “I see you now.”

Only she doesn’t. As Scarlett walks toward The Grandmother, the old woman’s eyes, suddenly sharp and shrewd, remain fixed on Shiloh. No, she thinks as she steps forward and the cloak flares out. Her eyes are on the cloak.

Don’t wear red.

“Scarlett,” Shiloh calls, pulling the cloak from her shoulders. The Grandmother’s eyes follow it’s rustle like a hawk as the fabric hits the grass.

Scarlett stops and turns back. And The Grandmother’s shadow starts to grow.

“Scarlett, run!”

Shiloh doesn’t wait for the girl to obey, simply grabs for her pelt, reaches down deep and pulls. Scarlett screams and tumbles backward as Shiloh flies at her which makes leaping the girl an easy feat. She’s only half shifted when she hits The Grandmother’s charge but it’ll do. She’s got her teeth at least.

The Grandmother is easily the breadth of Kae’s yew patient and growing, but her skin, turning green and sickly by the minute, is easy enough to tear through. She bleeds. That’s the important thing.

Anything that bleeds can die, in Shiloh’s experience.

She’s fully shifted by the time The Grandmother hauls her back by her scruff and rakes jagged claws across her furred ribs. Lucky, Shiloh thinks as she hits the ground. She doesn’t think she’d have survived it in her human form.

Shiloh rolls to her feet and snarls. Her mouth tastes of copper and she can feel something sticky on her flank but the fight is a singing, beautiful thing in her blood. She might go down but she’ll give Scarlett enough time to put distance between herself and this… whatever this is.

The Grandmother’s skin seems to boil, lending her silhouette against the rising moon an air of gut-churning horror. Which is nothing to the sight of Scarlett behind the monster, branch raised like a club. Like she’s going to fell the beast with a stick.

Scarlett lets out a warrior’s roar as she brings the branch down and-

Nothing. It breaks on The Grandmother’s writhing back like so much driftwood. Scarlett goes from heroic to trembling in a bare moment and then The Grandmother is turning. Shiloh’s paws dig large grooves in the earth as she launches herself forward – she’s never moved so fast.

The axe moves faster.

Likely because it was hurled by a half-giantess.

The Grandmother’s skull cleaves like a ripe melon and Shiloh uses her forward momentum to barrel Scarlett out of the path of the monster’s falling carcass.

And then, silence.

Shiloh uncurls with a wince to find Scarlett unhurt if a bit squished under her bulk. She wasn’t kidding when she said her pelt needn’t be big. She’s a hulking wolf no matter the size of her talisman.

“Damn you, wife! You’d best not be dead!”

Scarlett’s eyes are round as the moon rising over them, flicking panicked from Shiloh’s less-than-reassuring countenance to the giantess bearing down on them. Shiloh can’t help but snort a laugh as she shifts back to her human form, pulling herself off the child as she goes.

“It’s okay, Scarlett,” she says. “This is my wife, Kae.”

“This is your widow more like!” Kae says, picking Shiloh up with one big hand to set about inspecting her wounds. “Because I’m going to kill you for that fright you just gave me!”

Shiloh endures the inspection, mostly because she’s had a lot of practice. “My love, you’re frightening the child.”

Scarlett seems to take that as a challenge, climbing rapidly to her feet. “I ain’t frightened!”

Shiloh kisses Kae’s palm on its way to pawing at her scalp to check for head wounds and sighs. “Yes, I could see that. What part of ‘run’ didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you were in trouble,” Scarlett says, chin jutting out stubbornly.

“Oh I like her,” Kae says, seemingly having satisfied herself that Shiloh isn’t going to keel over dead any time soon.

Shiloh rolls her eyes. “Of course you do.”

Silence falls on the three of them once more as their attention turns to the hulking corpse of The Grandmother.

Scarlett breaks it. “They sent me here to get et, didn’t they?”

Shiloh, who was behind the door when the Gods handed out artifice, says, “Yes, my girl, I think they did.”

Scarlett takes this news with the sort of stoicism that’s likely going to require a lot of crying at some point later. “I’d like to not go back,” she says, finally.

Shiloh doesn’t say anything, simply exchanges a long look with her wife. And then she holds out her hand.

One year later, the village drapes another little girl named Scarlett in red and sends her into the woods. Four hours later, she comes back.

FIN

Patreon | Goddammitstacey.com

[goldeneyedgirl]

twificmas21 day 1: love story

Good evening and welcome to Ficmas 2021 💜 I’ve had a small crisis at home, so tonight’s offering is a preview of an upcoming fic called Love Story. This was the initial version of The Lost Ones before I realized I had gone rogue and started over. I hope you enjoy it! Notes will be updated tomorrow, it's just been one of those nights

love story.

It’s a story that follows him, is popular with their kind. Because even vampires need ghost stories, tales that leave you uneasy and questioning about what goes on in the shadows. There might not be campfires to sit around, but everyone loves a ghost story. There are dozens of different versions, passed person to person, never told the same way twice. It’s the way of things, the way of all oral histories, really. And slowly the story changes, becomes its own thing, away from the ghosts. He knows it by heart in more ways than one - the girl with the gift captured and taken prisoner; the love affair under the eye of the leader; the discovery of the girl’s power and her punishment. Her lover’s banishment. That’s the version he’s heard the most - the tragic love story. It’s the version Esme and the Denali girls favour. The idea of the handsome prince tearing his shirt asunder and howling for his dead lover before he too seeks the embrace of death, just to be with her again. Emmett likes the one where she’s a force of nature; a flight of fancy that leads to a huge fight, a no-holds-barred fight. Comic-book aspiring abilities and maybe a few jokes where the fate of the leads is never really resolved. Edward and Carlisle both prefer the cautionary tale, the morals and lessons that teach others not to stray too close to the sun. That sad and terrible things happen every single day and they should learn from them, rise above the errors of others. Rosalie like the tragic romantic version, but not for the same reasons Esme does. She likes knowing that she’s not the only girl whose fairy tale was ruined, who lost everything she hoped for and wished for. She likes the idea that someone out there shares some of her pain, even if she is dead and gone. Jasper hates all the versions, hates how wrong they are. Hates that people pass his own story back and forth for entertainment, sigh and shake their heads over his pain. He remembers it all, intimately; like it’s carved in his skin for others to read. They don’t know, of course. He’s concealed it, even from Edward, even after all these years. The Cullens know he lost his mate decades ago; he’s never gone into details, and they’ve never pushed for answers. He’s never corrected their assumptions, because they aren’t wrong - she did die in the South. He tries not to think of her, ever, when Edward is around. He saves the image of her face for moments when he is truly alone, hidden away, when he can recall the slopes of her cheeks and the shine of her eyes. The scent of salt and moss and honey that clung to her. The way she tucked herself beside him and stared at him like he held all the world in the palm of his hand. He blames himself, every single day. He should have known better. — Esme tries to help, once in the 80s. She doesn’t push for information (Carlisle did, once, to Peter and Charlotte. But they were long gone by the time she arrived, and Peter was deeply insulted at the idea that they would confide in Dr Cullen things that Jasper himself would not speak of.) “Perhaps something to remember her by?” Esme offers, and he recoils from the idea of grave markers or little memorial icons over empty dirt; flowers blooming on meaningless graves. A hollowed out urn to remind him that he left her behind in the dirt. Something fixed in time and space that he will have to walk away from the next time that they move. But Esme is not that cruel, not that heartless. That’s how the pendant appears; a fine silver chain with a little black heart that hangs from the lamp on his desk. It is a pointless memento, and there is an overwhelming urge to toss it into the back of a drawer but he doesn’t. He never has. It travels with him to each house, tucked safe into his pocket. Sometimes he touches it, admires the shiny of the stone, of the way the facets catch. It isn’t a memorial, but it is a reminder of something. But it stays and that makes Esme feel like she’s helped or something, which is enough, he supposes. When Edward brings Bella to the house, he gets it into his head to show

her every room, even Jasper’s study. And like most humans, most women he’s acquainted with, she goes straight for the necklace, her fingers brushing against it as it spins lazily from the lamp. He resists the urge to hit her for touching it, even though Edward catches his anger and whispers an explanation and apology to Bella that it’s for a dead girl. Maybe it means a little something, after all. — Bella is a goddamn disaster. He knows that from the moment Edward storms over to the car, black-eyed and furious. He knows that when Carlisle forbids anyone from designing the girl’s death. He is intensely aware that standing before the Volturi is a bad time to say, “I told you so,” but he feels like it. He wants to throw his arms up and go, “this is exactly what I warned you about.” But he doesn’t. Edward and Esme are clinging to Bella, Edward is negotiating, and Emmett is shielding Rosalie. He’s getting a pressure headache from pushing banality around himself, Rosalie, Bella, and Esme. But Aro has shaken all their hands, has flipped through the scrapbook of their minds. He knows everything, from the first kill (in the mud of Texas with a rusted knife, he gutted that soldier roughly and threw up from the smell of the blood; he was seventeen), to the fact that it was him that ruined Rosalie’s pink silk dress and whilst he doesn’t want her to find out because of the tantrum, he kind of feels that if she wants to wear fancy clothing, then maybe she should do her own laundry. He digresses. And Aro stares at him with his shark smile and dead eyes and pardons Carlisle, pardons Bella and Edward and the entire Cullen clan - with the understanding, of course, that Bella will be turned before she is twenty-one. If they do him one little favor. — She arrived in Monterrey weeks after Peter had fled, dragged there by some hunter as part of a deal, some kind of offering. At first, he thought she was too young when she was half-thrown at Maria’s feet. He didn’t understand why Maria would want some skinny little newborn waif probably too young to teach, to guide. He didn’t care about much back then. Maria called her many things, but he remembered her singular insistence at her name - Alice. (It was a month before he went to Maria's quarters, and found Alice sitting in a chair, staring out the window in an oversized dress of beige lace. Her red eyes blinked lazily at him, and he realized she was beautiful. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in this life, or even possibly his last. He wanted to get closer, but he was worried he’d break the illusion, that something would change.) Maria had swept into the room like a queen and dragged him away from the girl without explanation, and she’d turned her head back to the window with nary a care. (She wasn’t just beautiful, either. Her emotions were so calm, washing against him gently and steadily. They weren’t all good ones - there was resentment and worry and suspicion - but the way they felt against him was nice. Easy.) It’s not until Maria has him in her bed that she lets her secrets spill. The girl is a fortune-teller, a key to turning Mexico into hers and hers alone. To claim past Texas, into California. She rhapsodizes about the girl’s power, and Jasper just feels tired but alert. A psychic. He doesn’t need to see a damn thing to know this is going to spell their doom. — The little psychic is cloistered as well as any of Maria’s secrets. She dwells exclusively in the attic of the mansion, in the sitting room attached to Maria’s bed-chamber. There are some books that she looks upon with disinterest, and she just is. They do not speak, just an acknowledging nod as they pass by each other. (Only Maria hears the fortunes she spouts. He has no idea how accurate she is, but Maria does not hurt her or kill her, so she must be saying something right.) It’s one day late in the summer, after the newborns have been disposed of, and it’s just six of them lingering on for another year, that Maria allows her out of the mansion in the twilight of the day. In her beige lace

dress and bare feet, she is something enchanting. She is something beautiful and new and untouched by decades of war. She tip-toes her way across the yard, to where he is burning the last batch of limbs and human bodies from their meals. She smiles so brightly at the skin, a slight glow over her skin the only thing the late afternoon sky can draw from her. And for a second, for a second, he wonders about her. About Alice, the girl, and not Alice the psychic or Alice the vampire or Alice the hostage. Just Alice, alone. She looks over at him, more curious than anything else, and wanders back towards the house, and he keeps feeding the fire. — He’s been with the Cullens fifteen years before they tell the story in front of him. Or rather, the first time they are there when the story is told. They’re in Alaska, in the great room, just talking. The conversation drifts from current affairs to literature to gothic horror to myths to their own lore. The stories are a mixed bag - Irina tells the old Russian one about the vampires in the Russian court and poor Prince Alexei; Carmen weaves the old tale about the woman in red, one of the better Spanish vampire tales. Jasper throws in the relatively recent story about the Wailing Woman down in California, but that’s still fresh enough that it’s a cautionary tale rather than a story. And then Kate leans forward. “How have we manage to miss the quintessential tragic love story?” she asks, a smile at her lips. Tanya grins back at her, and the way the Denali coven all seem to lean forward, this is clearly a family-favourite. “Down past the old Mississippi River, they found a girl…” Kate begins in a sing-song tone, like an old-fashioned poetry recitation. He doesn’t realise at first. So many old vampire stories start down south - something about the heady combination of both human and vampire suffering; the fog of broken souls and lost hopes that has haunted stories of the south for so long. There’s no reason to think any different for this one. “…He looked over at her, in the early morning light, and he knew right then, he had found her. The other half of his heart. And when she looked back, she realized the same.” He gets an uneasy feeling then; so few of the well-worn parables that are passed amongst their kind revolve around true love - perhaps about catching and keeping a mate, but not about love. The only love story he can think of is… “He knew they were not safe. That one day, they would slip. They would be discovered, and the Lady of the Coven would descend upon them in fire and fury. Death would be a generous gift should their love be discovered.” Peter told it once, when they ran into a couple of nomads from India. They had traded stories - Kabir had told an epic battle story, and Charlotte had prompted Peter to tell of the Loss Lovers of the South. They were never there, during any of it. Peter had no idea that it was Jasper’s own story that he passed to the nomads. Jasper never told him, either. He was too ashamed, too full of grief and regret. “…And so he took her hand and they ran for their lives.” None of the stories truly get it right, either. At least, he’s never heard a version that matches what he remembers. “They did not make it far.” He can safely say nobody has realised. It might feel like there’s a beacon overhead, but everyone is focused on Kate. He felt ice cold, like he was watching everyone from a great distance. And he tries not to remember anything. He focuses on the curl of Tanya’s hair, the little owl pendant that Esme wears, the carved fawn on the mantle. Anything but the cadence of Kate’s voice, the story fitting together. “The Lady had her soldiers rip his love from his arms, and dragged them both to the house. The girl wept tears of red and gold, beginning the Lady to spare him, that this was her folly and hers alone.” The only thing that stays the same in every version is the ending. “They held him down in the dirt, his head pulled back as they tied to the pillar, bit into her flesh so venom spilled over her. So that the

flames could catch.” She dies. In every single telling, burnt irreversibly and eternally into him, she dies. “She screamed, of course. The pain would be indescribable. But when she called for him, it was only to remind him she loved him. That even in the moment of death and pain, her only thoughts were for her paramour, forced to watch his soulmate burnt alive.” That never ever changes. “She took a long time to burn, and even then some say that she was not dust; that her face still held shape, that she was crumpled in and the second someone reached for her pieces, she disintegrated, her eyes hollow and dried on her cheeks. They say her lover was let free, and he went to cradle what remained of her in his arms, to weep and mourn. But instead, he was covered in all that she was and howled his agony to the skies.” —

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: I think The next post will be the last one for this series!

“Did you...have fun tonight?” The way Dick haltingly asks causes laughter to bubble out of your mouth

“I can say that was nothing like any family dinner I’ve ever seen-“

And if that isn’t the truth, for one - even though you’ve heard of all of Bruce Wayne’s adopted children, you didn’t think there would be so many.

Dick’s the oldest, well officially anyway. Barbara Gordon, as in Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, was at dinner too. Apparently she and Dick had a brief stint where they dated. You’re guessing it was before Dick realized he likes boys - or maybe he likes both? You’ve never expressly asked him about using sexuality.

He’s got three little brothers, the youngest and the second oldest seem to have the highest predisposition towards violence, mostly to each other. And then the second youngest, Tim, he seems to be barely held together, mostly through caffeine and anxiety.

Cassandra from class was there too, as well as Stephanie, which was nice to see. They ducked out halfway through, which should have been your queue to duck out too.

Unfortunately you didn’t, which resulted in a rather poorly placed tomato soup stain at the edge of your dress’s hem.

“I like your brothers though” you say with a smile. You did like his brothers. The youngest, Damian, stared at you for seven very long minutes, before saying-

“How do you feel about animals?” When you told him you loved them he seemed pleased. Also, as a college student, you vibe with Tim. Though you do think someone should cut him off and have him switch to herbal tea. Jason seems cool enough, he just looked at you for a second before giving Dick a wolffish grin.

“Alfred was nice too, and it was fun seeing your- uh...Bruce again” You almost called Bruce his Dad. Bruce is nice, but he’s still a bigot. It was nice meeting Alfred, who showed you many pictures of a nine year old Dick Grayson, most of which were him doing acrobatics around the house. Honestly you thought it was adorable, but you put an end to it since Dick was blushing so fiercely that you thought he might combust.

It really was a lot of fun.

You shiver, the cold night air brushing against your bare arms. You’re standing in front of your building, saying your final goodbyes until you scamper off to your apartment, getting ready for another week of classes.

“Here, take my jacket-“ He’s already tugging it off. Before you can protest, it’s settled over your shoulders. The effect is almost instant, tendrils of warmth seeping into your shoulders and upper body.

It smells like him, you think.

Like- like his expensive cologne, with notes of amber and moss- but also like soap, like clean laundry, and something else, something sweet.

“Cotton Candy” You murmur to yourself. He probably eats it by the gallon sized bag , you think with a giggle.

“T-thank you-“ your eyes trail from the sleeve of his suit jacket to Dick, who’s got a pink tint fanning across his face, blue eyes flicking from the ground to your eyes.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight, and being so kind and considerate and lovely” and then Dick does something completely unexpected, he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your heart leaps in your chest, his sickly sweet Cotten candy scent floods your senses.

You would just have to tilt you head up slightly to catch his lips in yours. He smells so sweet, it almost makes you dizzy. It’s like being drunk, you think.

You want to smell him more.

“Thank you for being so accepting.” His words are like a bucket of cold water being dumped over your head. You feel like you’ve sobered right up.

“Of course, we’re friends aren’t we?” You offer Dick a smile, but you know it’s probably strained. You were so caught up in the moment, you forget he’s already in love with someone.

All of his feelings, all of his kisses, they’re reserved for Nightwing.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow” You call out, before walking into your building, feeling Dick’s lingering

So you like Dick.

F*ck.

You’re on the balcony of your apartment, nursing a glass of hot tea in the late night- or would it be early hours of the morning? You can make out the sky beginning to lighten into a lighter blue. Great so you stayed up all night thinking about your feelings.

Your body is going to love you for this.

How did this even happen? Were you just so focused on not getting a crush on either of his sisters that you didn’t see this coming. Ugh why dick of all people? Yeah, sure he’s got those sparkly eyes, and that permanent rosy blush, not to mention that lopsided grin-

Okay so you know why you’re falling in love with him. But there’s no point in nursing these blooming feelings not when-

“Hey do you have any sugar?” The masked crusader asks from beside you. That dazzling smile that makes people everywhere swoon aimed at you.

No point in nursing feelings for Dick, when the object of his affections is standing next to you, drinking earl grey out of your pink “Namaste in bed” mug.

“Or not- no big deal, I love my hot leaf juice with or without sugar.” He adds hastily, taking a loud sip as if to show you how much he’s enjoying your hospitality. You must have let your annoyance get to your face. You sigh, it’s not his fault that Dick loves him.

You’re the outsider here.

“So what are you doing out so late?” You ask, just wanting to make some small talk. But Nightwing lights up like you just offered him a million dollars. He’s so friendly it’s almost annoying, not unlike another certain dark haired golden boy you know.

“I’m always up, fighting crime, patrolling the streets-“ you never realized but being a vigilante is kind of a lot of work huh? You wonder if Nightwing has a day job, he looks so young though- maybe he’s still in school.

“The real questions is why are you still up?” His question is punctuated with a slurp of his tea.

“Just thinking I guess” you shrug, taking a sip of your own tea. You’re not about to tell Nightwing you realized you have feelings for his boyfriend.

“Thinking about the person you love?” It feels like you were just struck by an arrow. Nightwing’s mouth stretches. “No way, I was right?” You can almost picture the sparkle in his eyes behind his domino mask. You wonder what color eyes Nightwing has.

Probably a boring brown.

“Well who’s the lucky individual?” Noting your hesitance, Dick starts to get a little nervous. It hurts a little to think you don’t return his feelings. But there’s something about the shy look on your face, the way your eyes avert to your cup of tea, that’s just hopelessly adorable. What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him that way.

And then, a terrifying thought occurs to Dick.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Bruce Wayne?” He’s got absolutely no chance if you’re into older men. No unless you’re willing to wait ten years or so.

Then the most amazing thing happens- your mouth opens and laughter spills out. He’s heard you laugh, but never like this. So loud, and almost desperate.

And then, you do something else he’s never seen before. Somewhere along the way those loud laughs transformed into equally loud sobs. Your mouth pinched tight as tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

A hand curls over your eyes in an attempt to cover your face. This is mortifying, you’re basically crying in front of your romantic rival, completely vulnerable.

You’re about to mutter out an excuse, how you’re not usually like this, that you must be close to your period or something. When you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulder, your face pressed against Nightwing’s chest.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay” he murmurs reassuringly, his glove covered hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. And even though you were on the edge of recompsure, you’re thrust back into despair. Your sobs leaving you almost breathless as Nightwing continues to hold you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help” Dick whispers. Whatever it is, it must be serious. He’s never seen you cry, not when you were a hostage in that bank robbery, or held at gun point at that restaurant, not even when Damian was basically integrating you all night.

“I love someone, who’s never going to love me back” you manage between sobs, and Nightwing only shushes you. His hand traveling to your hair. Cradling your head against his chest.

He smells so good, like amber and moss, and something sickeningly sweet- like cotton candy.

He smells like Dick.

And that seems to soothe you a bit, along with Nightwing’s gentle warmth.

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine, I promise”

“Man, and I thought things were going really well between you guys” Stephanie says, her hand threading through her golden curls, head tilting back so it rests against the back of his couch.

“Yeah, me too” Dick admits with a sigh, he’s sitting with his knees propped up on the floor, his back against the wall.

Cassandra doesn’t say anything, her eyes are trained on the coffee table, their masks collectively strewn across it.

“So what are you going to do?” Stephanie asks, and Dick sighs again.

“What can I do honestly, they love someone else” he shrugs, he plays it off like it’s not a big deal. But the thought of your with someone else... it makes his stomach hurt.

“Just because she loves someone else right now...doesn’t mean she will forever” Those are the first words Cass has uttered all night, and Dick and Stephanie are both looking at her with wide eyes.

Stephanie’s already hyping him up, saying there’s no way their Dick’s going to lose to some no-face-extra, like your love is some sort of competition to be won.

And Cassandra’s only encouraging her, with energetic nods and the occasional ‘exactly’

But all Dick can think about is the way you felt in his arms, and how small you seemed as sobs wracked through your entire body. How deep your sadness felt, like he might be sucked in any moment too, tears falling from beneath his domino mask.

He hates whoever it is that made you feel that way. If it was him- if you loved him instead, he’d make sure you were never sad, he’d give you everything he was and everything he had if it meant you might smile for him.

He doesn’t want to change your mind, your feelings don’t work like that. All he knows is that he loves you- and what you need right now, is a friend. Someone who-

“Just wants to see them happy” Dick mumbles.

Taglist: @adenspolaroids @libraryoffandomsuniverse @jeneeangella @chyume @masked-mushroom

[bittydragon]

The Ant King

Note: Huge thanks to Bittydragon for inspiring me to write this. I’ll be honest, this is the first fic I've ever actually written, as well as the only piece of creative fiction I've written in like two years so… fingers crossed it goes well hahaha.

TW: tight spaces, darkness, uh,,, bugs i guess. Near death experience

  There are things you have to know about ants when you get an ant farm. Basic fundamentals. What to feed them, how to keep them alive, what type of ants you have, etcetera. Even if your intentions were… torturous. After all, you need to know what makes something tick in order to make it stop.

One of the more common facts about ants is that every colony has a queen. She orders her ants to keep her alive so she can make more ants. Simple biology, the continuation of a species. Every nest has a queen, or it dies.

Apparently, this colony didn’t get the memo.

These thoughts buzzed in grumpy circles around Wilbur's’ head as he followed his ant companion, Tommy, deeper into the ant-farm. They had been wandering these tunnels for what felt like days now, in the center of the farm so there were no glass barriers to show the outside world. They were deep too. Almost at the bottom of the compound. Wilbur was not one to show fear, but even he was beginning to get claustrophobic.

Tommy, who up until now had been jabbering like a toddler the whole trip through the ant-farm had also gone uncharacteristically silent. The whole trip Wilbur had wanted nothing more than a few seconds of quiet from him, but now he missed the carefree noise.

They were on their way to see the ant King. A type of ant that, as far as Wilbur knew, didn’t exist. So either they were on a wild goose chase, or Will was way out of his depth.

The further they went, the more he was convinced it was the latter.

“Tommy do you-” Wilbur paused, his echoing voice in the tunnel almost felt like a taboo. An affront to the maddening silence that stalked them. He lowered his voice.

“Do you think… Will I ever get back to normal? Will the ant king change me back?” He hated that little quiver in his voice. He hated the uncertainty. The waiting.

Tommy continued to march forward silently, pondering the question.

“I dunno big man, I think you’ve changed heaps since you got here.” He turned his head to flash Wilbur a grin “Then you’ll be out there and all nice n shit. It’ll be poggers.”

The tunnel was dark, but not dark enough to hide the flash of uncertainty in Tommy’s eyes.

Wilbur's heart sank. “Thanks mate.” He mumbled, and they trekked on, once more in silence.

  By the time they saw light, it felt like they had been walking for days. Wilbur was almost glad he was about to meet possibly one of the most powerful ants in this colony. They rounded one last bend, and they were there.

Before them stood a huge double door set in the wall. Two vines with some kind of glowing fruit framed the door, shedding light on the small space. In front of the door, leaning on a spear made from a twig was another ant with a pair of large white rimmed goggles. 

“Well… This is it I guess.” Wilbur muttered. He cleared his throat “Hey, um. I-i’m here to have an audience with the King? If that's alright.”

The guard ant didn’t respond, continuing to stare at them with no discernible expression.

“H-hello?” Wilbur glanced at Tommy, who shrugged.

“Excuse me? Anyone home?” Wilbur snapped his fingers in front of the ant's face.

He seemed to startle slightly, before slumping down a bit and letting out a loud snore.

“What the fuck” Tommy said.

Before anyone could do much of anything, one of the massive double doors creaked open and a voice came through.

“George, I swear if you fell asleep again, I'm going to rip off your antenna and use them as- oh.”

Another ant entered the room, this one also carried a twig-spear and had a strip of white cloth tied around his forehead.  As soon as his gaze landed on Wilbur, his expression soured.

If looks could kill… Wilbur thought nervously

“It’s you” The new ant spat “Took your sweet time getting here Soot. Earthquake slow you down? Didja get a taste of your own medicine from your big pals out there?”

Wilbur pursed his lips, and the ant snorted. “Yeah. Thought so.” He walked forward and gave George a hard shove, sending the other ant sprawling with a startled yelp.

“Sapnap what the hell?!” He snapped, before spotting Wilbur and Tommy. “Oh hey. That guy is here.”

“Yeah he’s here, idiot.” Sapnap smacked George over the head with his spear “And we would have known a lot sooner if you hadn't fallen asleep on duty again!”

“OW! Sapnap stop! Get off me!”

Wilbur cleared his throat, drawing their attention “Sorry to interrupt, but me and my friend have been walking for a long, long time, so could we please have an audience with the King?”

Subpoena glared “Yeah. He’s waiting for you. Against my advice, he wants to see you.”

Oh. That… didn’t sound great.

Wilbur tried not to think about the implications of that statement as he approached the double doors. Tommy moved to follow, but was stopped by the guards.

“Hey!” He groused “Let me through dickheads!”

“I'm afraid the King only wants an audience with the great and powerful Wilbur Soot” Sapnap said with a smirk.

“But I want to go too! Let me in! You stupid ugly bitch ill fight you! You may have a fancy stick but just wait until I pull out my knife-gun!”

“Tommy its fine.” Wilbur interrupted “I’ll be fine mate, promise. Just wait here. I wont leave without saying goodbye.”

The last thing he saw was Tommy’s antenna drooping sadly, before the doors swung closed behind him.

  If Wilbur thought the tunnel was dark before, that was nothing compared to the room he was in now. The darkness was so thick, so absolute, that it made no difference if his eyes were open or closed.

“Hello?” Wilbur called “Uh… your majesty? I was told that you wanted to see me.”

His voice echoed slightly in the huge space, but there was no reply.

Wait. What was that? Something rasped ever so slowly across the opposite wall. Something big. As it moved, the moss where it had been standing glowed a dull green.

Bio-luminescence Wilbur reasoned. Trying to distract himself from the fear creeping up his spine. Touch activated, it seems.

He swallowed dryly “L-look, just tell me what you want. I’m not here to cause trouble”

The thing moved again, its raspy scuttle reverberated through the chamber.

“Wilbur Soot, not here to cause any trouble” A thoughtful voice hummed from the dark “Now that’s a first.”

The bio-luminescent moss was lighting up more of the room. If he squinted, Wilbur could make out a... leg. Probably.

Wilbur inches slowly to the side, the moss lighting up his own path. “Okay, I get it, I've done morally questionable things in the past, but I've learned a lot from my time here. I’m sorry.”

“For now” The voice replied. The thing was moving on the other side, matching him step for step. “What's to say you aren't faking remorse to get out of here? And maybe you really are sorry. How can I be sure you wont change your mind the second you're back to normal? It's too much of a risk.”

Wilbur continued to back away nervously “Your majesty-”

“Please, call me Dream. Everyone else does.”

“Right… Dream. I can say with 100% certainty that won't happen. I've seen people die in front of me. That’s enough to change anyone's stance on something.”

“And yet I'm still not convinced.” It was moving faster now, scuttling across the floor, walls and even across the ceiling. Wilbur's head spun with the motion. “And since we’re talking in hypotheticals, riddle me this: Whoever said I was going to let you out anyway? What if I just like to play with my food?”

Dream stopped suddenly, rearing over Wilbur, and with all of the lit up moss, he got his first proper look.

This ant was huge. Twice- no, at least three times the size of Wilbur himself. He looked a bit like a centaur, with a human torso connected to a pure white and thorax and abdomen.He also wore a strange white mask with a blank eyed smiley face drawn on.

Two huge claw arms- similar to those of a praying mantis- extended from Dreams waist and slammed into the dirt either side of Wilbur, startling him enough that he fell onto his ass. The king leaned forward with that lifeless grin, and Will closed his eyes, preparing for the end.

“But…” Dream said thoughtfully “A proper experiment should account and test for all variables, shouldn't it?”

“Y-yeah generally” Wilbur stuttered

“Oh good.” Dream hoisted him roughly to his feet. “I’m glad I asked you. After all, you know all about experiments, don’t you?”

Wilbur chose not to answer, glowering at Dream as the eyes on his mask briefly glowed a dull green.

A moment later, Sapnap and George marched in, dragging a cussing and struggling Tommy behind them.

“YOU STUPID MOTHEFUCKERS!!! Let me go or ill get married in rage!! Fuck you and-! Oh. wow that is a big fella.” Tommy stopped and stared in awe at Dream

“Sapnap, give Wilbur your spear.” Dream ordered.

A flicker of doubt crossed Sapnaps face but he obediently shoved the spear into Wilbur's hands.

“I’ll make you a deal, Wilbur Soot.” Dream purred, circling him. “I will let you go to your old life. You can do whatever you like; kill us, torment us, throw us away… it doesn't matter. All you have to do is kill one ant.” He gestured to Tommy.

“What?” Wilbur whispered.

“WHAT?!” Tommy roared “fuck you! I'm not your dumb-ass pawn, I'm going to kill you! Rrrrrrrrrrr!” he writhed, attempting to bite George who did a surprisingly good job of holding him still.

“Go on.” Dream cooed “It's just one insignificant ant standing between you and freedom. You've killed hundreds. What's one more?”

Spear in hand, Wilbur took a hesitant step forward.

Tommy's gaze snapped up “Wilby?” He asked, his struggling pausing for a moment.

Their eyes met, fear clashing with sorrow. Tommy seemed to see something in Wilbur's expression and hung his head in defeat. As if he had expected Wilbur to betray him.

Oh hell no. Fuck that. Wilbur angrily tossed the spear aside.

“No. I won't.”

“What?” Dream spat

Wilbur rounded on him “No! I won't kill him! Keep me here, kill me, hunt me for sport, whatever! Just leave him out of this! Tommy has been nothing but nice to me since I met him, even though it don't deserve it!” He rubbed his arm. “God knows I don't deserve it.”

“Hmm…” Dream hummed “Are you sure, even if it costs you your life?” One of Dream's massive claw arms grazed his side, a subtle threat.

Wilbur looked over at Tommy, who had a look of hope on his face.

“Yeah.” Will smiled, “I'm sure.”

I probably could have written more, but i wont. I hope you like this fic bitty! Thanks for reading :)

Edit: Fortune, this is amazing! Like, I hadn't really thought about this encounter in a lot of detail, but I honestly like this a lot! And Dream being a big boy since he's the king ant. Just yes. Thank you so much for this.

[kuroopaisen]

cause & effect || 8

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. unfortunately, that favour includes convincing his family that you’re very much in love with him and have been for a while now. let’s just say it’s easier than you’d assumed.

warnings: f!reader, discussion of divorce

wc: 2.2k

m.list | ch. 7 ↞ ch. 8 ↠ ch. 9

“Tetsurou!” His mother calls as he’s a few steps away from the safety of the car.

“Hm?” He only half turns around, not willing to commit to the concept of walking back towards his mother’s house.

“Don’t forget to call.”

“Don’t worry,” you call out, “I’ll remind him.”

She smiles at you, raising a hand. “Thank you, dear.”

You’re rushed into the car before you know it, buckled in next to an exceedingly stressed Kuroo.

The two of you are already leaving later than he would’ve liked, and you can tell he’s desperate to get back to Tokyo.

So are you, honestly. It feels like you didn’t get enough sleep last night, even though you certifiably did.

His mother’s words keep playing over in your head. ‘No chemistry.’ ‘She’s no Ritsuko.’ What did that even mean? 

Sure, you might not be his real girlfriend, but you’re kind of pissed that you’re expected to live up to a set of standards you don’t even know about. Maybe you’re a bit too ticked off by the chemistry comment, but ‘no chemistry’ meant you weren’t playing your role well.

And if you were going to do anything during this whole stupid pantomime, it would be playing your part exceptionally.

“You know,” Kuroo begins, clearing his throat and stirring you from your thoughts, “I don’t think I said thank you properly last night.”

You smile, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

“No, I…” There’s a creak in Kuroo’s voice, an uncertainty. Once, you might have found it unusual. After last night, not anymore. “I really appreciate you listening to me.”

You turn your head towards him, your smile softening.

Kuroo takes a deep breath, his fingers tensing around the steering wheel. He’s not looking at you (rightfully so – his attention should be focused on the road), but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip juts out ever so slightly.

“I know it sounds dumb,” he says quietly, voice barely louder than the humming of the car, “since they split ages ago, but… I’ve had a hard time believing that… that if I fell in love with someone, it’d last.”

It hurts. Deep and true and harsh.

You know that pain. You’ve felt it.

“That doesn’t sound dumb at all,” you murmur, voice soft as cotton.

“Thanks,” Kuroo chuckles.

Silence falls once more. You let it. If Kuroo needs time, you’re willing to give out. Trying to force things out of someone never did them any good. You wait patiently, watching the road.

“I just…” He sighs after a while, sitting up a little straight. “I don’t know how to let someone in. Not in the way they want, anyway. I just…”

He chews on his lip, brow furrowed as he searches for his next words.  

“Because your parents split up?” You offer.

“Mhm,” he nods slowly. “I don’t begrudge them for it or anything… and I know it’s better than forcing themselves to stay in the relationship.”

Ah, the bargaining. You know it well.  

You tell yourself that what happened is better than nothing changing at all. But in the process, you forget you’re allowed to grieve. Allowed to be hurt. You push it away, cover it with a tatty veil, tell yourself that it’s wrong to feel anything mildly negative about it.

But that’s how it builds. That’s how it spreads like moss over a stone wall, slow and deliberate and hard to notice at first. But then it’s in all of you – in how you see yourself, in how you see others, in how you love.

“But it’s affected you more than you realised, right?” You ask gently.

Kuroo nods again. He glances at you out the corner of his eye, vaguely suspicious.

“Yeah,” he swallows. “I’ve only begun unpacking it recently.”

“It can take a long time to work through something like that,” you murmur, fiddling with your fingers as you gaze down at your lap.

You’re not sure if you’ve even worked through it all. There are still days when the thought of ‘family’ makes you want to throw up, where the bitterness swallows you whole. Bitterness for them, bitterness towards a society that places filial piety as a key virtue. How are you supposed to fulfil your ‘duty’ as a daughter when you still haven’t forgiven them for leaving you among the wreckage?

Maybe it’s time.

You take a deep breath, lifting your head to gaze out the window. “My parents are divorced, too.”

It’s a half-whispered confession. One you’re not sure if you should make.

You don’t know why it’s so hard to say that. It’s a simple fact – one that’s been written in stone since you were fourteen. And it’s not like Kuroo would judge you for it.

But it’s still difficult. It still feels like a stain that won’t come out.

“Wait, really?” Kuroo’s eyes go wide, glancing between you and the road. “I’m so sorry—”

“What’re you apologising for?” You giggle.

Kuroo opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish. “Well I—I’ve been sitting here complaining about it, and—”

You wave a hand at him.

“It’s fine,” you smile. “I’m not close with either parent, so…”

The mood shifts. Have you made a mistake?

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says. There’s a painful sincerity in his voice – evidence that he doesn’t know what that’s like.

You’re happy for him. Through it all, at least, he had his dad’s side of the family. It’s something to be grateful for; and while the abandoned child in you feels bitterly jealous at the thought of someone else getting support, you know better than to admonish a parent doing their best to keep their son above water.

“It’s fine,” you say, pressing your lips together and shaking your head. “They’re both overseas for the holidays, actually.”

That’s the real reason you’re able to actually do this whole thing. There’re no parents to visit, no family to make merry with. There are friends you’d like to see, but most of their time was taken up by their own family festivities.

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Dad’s gone to Europe with his new partner, and mum’s visiting her new husband’s family in Australia.”

You know that they didn’t need to ask you if you wanted to spend the holidays together. And you don’t expect it. Sometimes weeks go by with no contact, and it’s your fault as much as theirs.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Being along during the holidays is always a reminder that things aren’t as they should be – you don’t have that nice little nuclear family you’re told to want, with parents who love (or at least, tolerate) each other so they can love you.

“I see…” Kuroo murmurs.

“So, you needing someone to stick their neck out for you ended up being pretty convenient,” you grin, trying to lighten the frankly dour atmosphere in the car.

“Where will you be during New Years?” He asks softly. There’s a certain melancholy to his face.

“Alone, at this rate.” You have friends to see, of course, but you know they can’t dedicate all their free time to you – and you’d never ask for that.

But you can’t reason your way out of loneliness, no matter how hard you try. Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough. All you can do is remind yourself that it wouldn’t be forever; the holidays would pass, things would return back to normal, and you won’t be lonely again for another year.

“You can stay with us, if you’d like.”

Kuroo’s voice is so soft. So kind.

It’s enough to make your chest feel all light and funny. Why, you don’t know.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

You’re not sure if you’ll take him up on the offer; you wouldn’t want to impose, and it wasn’t part of your agreement. Not that you’re really sure what’s covered by your agreement. You’re just coasting along, hoping for the best. Hoping you’re helpful.

Silence. A silence that weighs on your shoulders.

Did Kuroo feel… awkward, now he knew you came from a similar situation? Did he feel that he had no right to talk about it the way he was?

That wasn’t what you’d been trying to do at all. You didn’t want to rob him of his voice.

You take a deep breath, clutching your jacket with your hands. “I’m just saying that… I know where you’re coming from,” you swallow. “Kind of.”

Kuroo glances at you out the corner of his eye.

“It’s okay to take your time to work through these sorts of things,” you smile. “God knows I still am.”

He chuckles lightly. A good sign.

“It’s not easy,” you continue, “and I spent a lot of my teen years believing it didn’t affect me, that it hadn’t had that big of an impact, but…” One deep breath. “I used to besmirch the idea of family.”

It feels strange, admitting it out loud. You’d never done that before; not to someone outside of a therapeutic context. Not even your closest friends knew this was how you really felt.

“I didn’t believe in it,” you swallow, “And now I know that’s because of how my parents treated each other.”

Fights. Pointless bickering. Nothing ever got physical, but bitterness has a way of twisting people up on the inside, leaving them all tattered and miserable. A place where there’s no love at all, only two people running through the tired motions of affection, is no place to raise a child – let alone teach them how to love.

And something else.

“And… and because of how they treated me through the divorce,” you sigh.

It sounds worse when you phrase it like that.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Kuroo speaks slowly, each word careful and cautious, “what happened?”

You chew on your lip. “Well, there’s the two of them trying to pit me against the other.”

Kuroo groans.

“And I… I don’t know, I felt very neglected,” you swallow, doing your best to ignore the pressure in your chest, the lump in your throat, the way your gut twists. “They were both so focused on sorting themselves out that I got left behind in a lot of ways.”

“How old were you?”

“Oh, I was like… thirteen? Fourteen?” You can’t remember exactly. It’s been so long.

“Shit.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it really wasn’t a good time for it. But… I think that contributed to why I feel a bit distant from my family.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

This wasn’t how you’d wanted this conversation to go. This was supposed to be about Kuroo, helping him feel more at peace with what’d happened to him. It wasn’t supposed to be your sob fest.

You open your eyes, looking straight at him. “Look, Tetsurou, it’s okay to take your time. And it’s good that you’re able to identify the causes of your troubles. That’s a great start.” you say as your heart races. Would he find this preachy? Nagging?

He just chuckles, shaking his head. “I just wish I could deal with them.”

“I think you’re doing better than you think you are,” you murmur, resisting the urge to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. “And… if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Your heart feels like it’s running a damn marathon as he slows to a stop at the red traffic light. Have you overstepped? Are you being annoying? Worse yet, were you being invasive?

Kuroo turns to look at you properly for the first time on the drive.

He’s graced with the softest of smiles, his features much gentler than you’ve ever seen them. You’d almost believe there’s genuine affection in his eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

You pout at him reflexively. You haven’t had your hair ruffled in years.

✧ ✧ ✧

The rest of the drive is quiet. Pleasantly so. Enough’s been said, and you feel no need to fill the silence.

Kuroo doesn’t either.

It’s nice to exist comfortably like this, the car’s heater working overtime as you trundle your way back to Tokyo. You drift in and out of a light sleep, bundled up in your jacket and your coat.

By the time Kuroo parks on your street, you’re ready to crawl into bed and hibernate for the rest of the month.

“Well,” Kuroo sighs. “Thanks again.”

You yawn, stretching your arms as far as the car will let you. “No problem.”

Kuroo wastes no time in getting out of the car and opening your door for you. You grimace as the cold air hits you; maybe you will crawl straight into bed. What better way to spend your day off?

You grab your things and slowly walk yourself to the front of your apartment building. Kuroo accompanies you the whole way.

“I’ll see you soon,” he nods to you as you turn around.

“I look forward to it,” you smile. God forbid, you’re actually excited.

Kuroos eyes light up for a moment. Are his cheeks red from the cold, or something else?

A bubble in your gut and you’re desperate to get inside, away from this confounding, stupidly charming man. You give what you intend to be your final nod, turning to open the door, but—

“Oh,” Kuroo says. “One more thing.”

You turn and tilt your head at him.

Somehow, he makes the stark winter light suit him. He grins. It’s brilliant enough to make you blush.

“Thanks for opening up to me,” he smiles, “I really appreciate it.”

[pillage-and-lute]

I’m always a slut for fae or dragon jaskier! Just this incredibly powerful immortal being that’s full on obsessed by this stinky Witcher that has all the social abilities of a feral cat.

Nonny! I love this!

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

Geralt ran through the woods, Ciri was barely keeping up so he hoisted her into his arms and sprinted towards a clearing. One giant spider was one thing, but he’d stumbled into a nest. He could do it, but not while protecting Ciri too.

The clearing held a ring of standing stones, three times the height of a man. A large flat rock in the middle was perhaps a meter off the ground. Geralt leapt onto it, hoping higher ground would help.

He turned to fight, pushing Ciri behind him on the stone, but the spiders had stopped at the edge of the clearing. They were chattering unhappily, backing away uneasily.

Then they fled. 

The fine summer day was suddenly overcome with swirling clouds. Shadow figures, each ten feet tall or more leached from the stones and advanced. A horrible roaring, not heard through conventional means but appearing in the ears fully formed throbbed in his eardrums. The shadows came closer and the noise blended slowly. It wasn’t words, but the meaning was clear.

Ours. The shadows cried, getting more solid as they stepped forward. Horns and glowing eyes. Some had more than two eyes, some only one large one. One of them had three sets of horns. 

Ours. They roared. Ours. Our stones. Our people. Stay. Ours.

Ciri shrunk into Geralt’s side and shoved her face into his chest.

Jaskier appeared behind them.

MINE

He roared in the unseelie tongue. Geralt didn’t need to turn around, he’d seen this before, but he looked anyway.

Ten feet tall and made of flowing shadow and pieces of black stone. Mildewing moss, almost black with decay in patches across his body. Jaskier stretched out one long thin arm in front, palm outward. The other arm curled around Geralt and Ciri, crouching to do so. Long fingers with sharp, black nails latched onto Geralt’s shoulder. He looked up at the face, which was looking outward.

MINE

Jaskier called again. His eyes glowed brighter. They weren’t eyes like eyeballs and lashes. It was as if someone had torn three eye-shaped slashes in reality and whatever was beyond was glowing. Jaskier opened his mouth. It hadn’t existed a moment ago but the skin, for want of a better word, split open, sharp teeth of the same shadow black were silhouetted against an open mouth filled with glowing nothing.

Jaskier snapped open his wings, a fifty foot wingspan of living shadow blocked out the sun.

THEY ARE MINE

Jaskier screamed. Parts of Geralt wanted to liquify under the feeling but that wasn’t intended for him so thankfully, he didn’t. The fae fled. 

Daylight returned and Jaskier folded his wings back in. 

“Dandelion” Ciri said, flinging her arms around his shadow neck and clinging. “Thank you, perfect timing!”

of course my dear 

appeared in their ears.

“Perhaps your seelie form?” Geralt suggested. “If you aren’t feeling quite up to looking human yet.”

fine

There was a pout in the not-voice. Jaskier shrunk down to only about six and a half feet tall and mostly his normal look. THe added height stretched him a little, rather than keeping preportions, so he looked sort of willowy, and his skin was a little paler, with grey-green tints were humans might be pink. Black lips and raven’s wings and curling black ram’s horns adorned his head. There was also some parts that were a covered in bark and moss, and there was a ring of red and white toadstools, growing from his hair like a flower crown.

Thankfully, his eyes were back to two and their normal color, although they glowed slightly.

“Really Geralt,” he said. “I’ve told you about standing stones, haven’t I?”

“Yes dear,” Geralt said, giving him a kiss. It tasted only a very small bit like mushrooms. “But I chose between you rescuing us or the spiders.”

“What would have happened if they got us?” asked Ciri.

Jaskier sat and pulled her into his lap. “They would have taken you away to the court, and been fed from your soul. You would stay there a year and a day and they’d let you go.”

“That isn’t very long.”

“When you came back home it would have been a hundred years or more, time flows differently there, and you would be a very old woman, probably close to death.”

“Oh,” Ciri said. Jaskier kissed the back of her head. 

“It’ll never happen,” he said, leaning in as Geralt put an arm around his shoulders. “Every fae knows that the ones in this world have dibs. I’ve got claim to you to feed from and they can’t take you. Even if they tried they couldn’t get you through to our world.”

“What do you feed on?” Ciri said, reaching up and stroking her finger along one curling horn. 

“Love,” Jaskier said, leaning his head down so she could feel better. “It’s always better if whatever we feed on is freely given, makes us stronger, that’s why I can stay here and turn human. Just people liking my music is usually enough.” Here he grinned, it was a little sharper than usual. “But you both love me so much, I might be the most powerful fae this side of the veil.”

He slid off the stone, a ring of mushrooms erupting when his feet hit the ground, and he set Ciri carefully on the ground. Geralt jumped down next to him, then blinked, and Jaskier looked human. Geralt held a hand with lute callouses and no claws as they walked off, and Ciri brushed a bit of moss off Jaskier’s doublet.

“What happens,” Geralt said. “If the love runs out?”

“Are you going to stop loving me anytime soon?” Jaskier asked, smiling up at him in the sunshine.

“Never,” Geralt said, and kissed him.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Mind Games (Alec Volturi x Reader)

Everyone had warned you about the twins, the 'witch twins'. They were described as pure evil incarnate yet when you met them, their sadistic side was apparent, even their standoffish nature but nothing came across as pure evil. You were warned that they looked innocent but it was an act. Everyone you had ever known told you to stay away from them, no matter what they say or do. 

You tried to remember the advice, keeping it in the back of your mind as the two introduced themselves to you and even grew to befriend you. Still the advice rang in your head but you couldn't help but feel sorry for them. That perhaps they were a little misunderstood or just wanted someone. You couldn't explain how Alec drew you in. If anything he seemed to influence your friendship with Jane. Everyone had told you to stay away yet the twins were encouraging. They didn't recoil when you told them your gift as many did. 

You were honest, your gift made you do terrible things. It wasn't exactly enamoring. Perhaps that made you drawn to them more, outcasts meeting outcasts. They seemed to enjoy your ability and more specifically, the dark things you had done with it during your past. You weren’t proud of those times and they didn't lecture you or encourage you to do worse. Instead they accepted it, they had done some pretty wicked things and anyone who didn't was associated with someone who had. Seemingly that's just how it is in the vampire world. 

Somehow, the friendship naturally progressed to Alec wanted to stay behind to spend more time with you. It was always talking in the most secluded areas where no one would find you. The forest, against a particular large tree, moss acting as a seat. In fields and meadows where you both would be hidden sitting among the grass. The two of you would just roam, finding the perfect spot to sit and enjoy the moment. Neither of you brought up the progression of the friendship. It came natural when you both began to sit that little more closer than before. Lingering touches, like Alec running his finger along the side of your jaw absentmindedly. It was easy to be around Alec. You didn't always have to talk, explain yourself. He already knew. The atmosphere was intense but never uncomfortable. The world continued on but you and Alec were stuck in your own bubble. 

You turned your head and suddenly jerked back with yelp. Alec turned his own head quickly to you. "What did you do? I looked away for two seconds!" "That bit of grass went up my nose." You heaved, covering your face. "Wait... seriously?" Alec's eyes widened slightly. "Yeah. I literally moved into it." You replied, still cradling your nose. "Are you being dramatic? Surely you-" You cut Alec off. "No, trust me. It went straight up there. It went so far up my nose that I think it could reach some distant childhood memories." Alec couldn't help but laugh. "You're an idiot! Are you okay?" "Yeah, think so." You nodded, grabbing the specific blade of grass, tearing it from the roots and tossing it behind you. "Now I've had vengeance." Alec shook his head with an amused smile. "I can't believe you did that. Pay attention to your surroundings! What had you so distracted?" 

That was a tricky question, because you had been thinking about him at the time. However you couldn't tell him that. "I don't know." You shrugged, looking down at the ground. "That's a lie." Alec pointed out. You knew you couldn't lie to Alec, but it had been worth the try. "If I tell you, you can't freak out." You began. "That's concerning. Should I be worried?" Alec asked. "No, it's not bad but it's a secret. If I tell you, you can't freak out." Alec nodded in response. You stared at him momentarily, clearly very nervous. Quickly, you leaned in, meetings Alec's lips with your own. He stayed very still and you decided it was best if you pulled back. Although when you did, Alec immediately chased after your lips, this time kissing you. His hand moving to pull your face closer to him. 

That kiss remained a secret, although a happy one. Never to be mentioned around anyone else. Everyone told you to stay away from the twins, that they were dangerous. You probably should have listened. 

When another two men who were introduced as Felix and Demetri, met you in the place you were to meet the twins along with them, you knew something wasn't right. You grew nervous with the feeling as though you had just stepped into a trap. You took a step back, your unease written all over your face. "Calm down." Alec said as the two twins stepped closer. "We're friends, aren't we?" "Friends?" You repeated. "Yes." Alec smiled slightly. "Well, you and I may be a little closer than that." With a small smirk, Alec ran his fingers along his bottom lip. "We're friends." Jane continued. "We'd like to take you to meet more friends." Alec continued. Jane stopped but Alec took a larger step forward, his dark most surrounding you in seconds. You slumped forward, into Alec's shoulder. He hummed in amusement. "Well that was a little too easy for my liking." Felix chuckled. You had begun to slide of Alec's shoulder but before you could hit the ground Felix scooped you up. 

Your eyes snapped open, Alec's mist retracting. You sat up with a startled gasp. You looked around to see a room that was made of stone and marble. Before you sat three vampires. "Ah, young (Y/N), you're awake!" You quickly moved to your feet and in seconds you had the twins to your right, Demetri and Felix stood to your left. All four had their eyes latched on you for any sudden movements. The man in the middle descended the stairs to his throne with a gleam in his eyes. "Our sincerest apologies for not making your acquaintance sooner. I'm afraid we had other matters to attend to. Although I hear nothing but good things about you. Our dear Alec, told us so much about you." He stepped closer. "My name is Aro, behind me are my brothers, Marcus and Caius." Aro gestured to each as though this was a friendly introduction. You, however, were still in the mindset that you had been brought here against your will. That, you wouldn't forget so easily. 

Aro's hand locked onto yours. He hummed quietly in amusement. “There's so much in your mind. It branches out into others. I don't know where to begin. You see, my dear, your mind doesn't seem to work like others. People minds are so easy to read, their thoughts just come to me but for you, cara mia, it appears I must decide where to look." Your head snapped up. "Get out of my head!" You screamed. Your fingers wiggled free of Aro's. Your own fingers covering his in a tight grip that was painful. Suddenly Aro couldn't see in your head anymore. Aro gasped, a sharp pain coursing through his head. His own mind flashing before his eyes and that was when he had realised this was you. Almost like a filing cabinet, every thought he had ever had, every memory, you rifled through them all quickly. Each tiny detail became agonizing. Aro began to cry out in pain."Get out!" You didn't, only continuing to poke through his brain. He finally tore his hand free from your grasp, staggering back. Aro couldn't help but look at your hand. Your fingers wiggled slightly, resembling the motion he could imagine someone's fingers would make hunting through a filing cabinet. You glared at him. "Dungeons." Aro seethed. "Take them to the dungeons!" 

"Demetri..." Your voice echoed in his mind. "You track the mind. Cling to tenors of people, I see...so many people." Demetri clenched his jaw, slowing to a stop. "Get out of my head." "No." You said simply. Demetri silently cursed himself. He knew he shouldn't have touched you. Yet he did so without thinking and now you had tapped into his head. "That's so bizarre...it's like intangible ropes, pulling you towards everyone." "You're a parasite! Get out of my head!" Demetri seethed. You seemed to laugh at this. "You did it to yourself. You can't blame me for what goes on in your head. At the end of the day...I'm in the dungeons." Your voice lowered, becoming more forceful. "You put me here." 

Suddenly the corridor before him shifted. He couldn't explain it but before his eyes was a seemingly endless hallway with doors, that branched out into more corridors with doors. A maze that was on going. Mazes were never an issue for Demetri, he just had to follow the scent of who he was hunting and he'd find his way out on his own. However this seemed to not be the case this time. Demetri noticed that every direction, the pull of his gift sent him. He couldn't latch onto one particular person and the scents were so tangled that it seemed as though everyone was everywhere all at the same time, leaving no room untouched. Demetri then knew that you were messing with his head, his gift, just as you had done so to Aro. "A parasite, you say..." You mused. "...have you ever looked in the mirror and hated what looked back at you?" Demetri wasn't going to give you the pleasure of an answer, however you continued without skipping a beat. "I think I'm more of a reflection. Or more specifically, a reflection of your gift. I'm reflecting your gift that you press onto others, back onto you and now your poor little brain is all confused." Demetri could hear the pout in your voice and it only aggravated him more. 

Five hours had passed, you'd gone quiet quite some time ago. Almost immediately after mocking him. However, things were not back to normal. In fact, for the past five hours he's been roaming the halls. Doors led to more corridors and even more doors. There was no pattern, just a constant loop that even going backwards didn't seem to have any use. Since then, Demetri had lost all sense of direction and had no idea where he had started. Although to his surprise, when turning another corner, the scene had finally changed. He looked back seeing the same normal corridor he had looked at for all these hours but turning that corner lay ahead a different corridor and the very one he had been heading for. Whatever influence you had over his head, it was gone. 

Jane's visit was surprising and very rushed. She held up a bag of blood. Who really knew where she got that from but blood bags weren't as appetizing as from the vein. You were willing to bet she hadn't even heated it up. "Here. For you. I'm afraid I can only give you one, but it'll be enough to keep the thirst at bay." She put her hand through the bars, holding out the bag. You stared at her. "Hurry up or I'll drop it." Jane said coldly. This is probably the most loving you had ever seen her and is probably the best she's capable of being nice. You moved forward and took it from her. "Thanks and thanks for adding some attitude with it. It's great to see you too." Jane rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to sit and watch you complain." "Apparently you're not going to be my friend either." You shot back. "You're being ridiculous. I'm busy, I have a job to do. I can't coddle you until you come around. I am your friend and so take that as some friendly advice." "Coddle!?" You snapped incredulously. "You kidnapped me! Where was the coddling you speak of exactly!?" "Yes, we did. However this isn't a bad place to be and you aren't being tortured." Jane responded simply. "You can't be serious." You said in awe. "Jane, if I took you to the Cullen's against your will and told you that you should be happy because it isn't a bad place to be, would you be happy!?" "I don't have time for this." Jane insisted. "I could have just left you down here to starve but I didn't. I took time out of my day to make sure you're a little more comfortable. If you don't believe we're friends then that isn't my problem. That's yours. I've been nothing but honest the whole time." "Wow. Thank you so much Jane for putting me in this situation and keeping me comfortable." You responded with sarcasm. "Keep talking to me like that and i'll-" Jane began but you interrupted. "Or what? You'll put me in the dungeon? Oh wait." Your eyes narrowed on her with a cold gaze.  "Are you sure you want to test me, (Y/N)?" Jane asked. "Are you?" You responded. Jane didn't answer in words but the agony you quickly felt responded for her. Although you were just as quick to remember how to make the pain stop. You grabbed her arm before falling to the ground. She tore her arm away with a growl but the damage was already done. You looked into her eyes and suddenly you didn't feel the pain anymore, Jane on the other hand, let out a very loud scream, immediately collapsing to the ground. Somehow, she couldn't stop the pain, even when she immediately halted inflicting her gift. Yet the pain kept going. With bars separating you both, it was then you who stood over her. "Does that hurt?" You asked lightly as she continued to scream. "I hope that hurts." You said, eyes boring into Jane. "A lot." You added. 

Suddenly Alec came rushing down the stairs along with Felix, Demetri and Santiago. You released Jane and Alec wasted no time upon arrival rushing to his sister's side. You smiled at the guards before turning away to lie down on the stone bench. As soon as Alec was certain his twin was right he shot you a glare. "You know, you're glaring at me like this is my fault. Like I wasn't the one taken here against my will and threatened with torture." You turned your head, eyes meeting Alec's. "And you want me to believe I was ever your friend?" "We are your friends but we also have orders and our limits." "Only with everyone else, Alec. Neither of you were ever taught when to stop." Your smile vanishing. "You got your sister, now go away."

Aro, Caius and Marcus approached your cell quietly and you smiled sweetly. "Demetri said you'd be back. You did." Your smile vanished. "Good." You said with a lower tone of voice. "We've been trying to understand your gift. It's been quite a conundrum." Aro began. "Oh really?" You responded blankly. "Do you know what it is?" Caius asked. "No, but it's very good for self defense." You said flatly. "We have concluded that you mimic gifts after physical contact with them." Aro continued. "Therefore, you aren't a mind reader, you copied my gifts and used them against me." A flash of anger crossed Aro's face before returning to a stoic demeanor. "You should never look into someone's mind without permission." You agreed. "It's fascinating though isn't it?" "What is?" Aro responded. "People are like doors to us. One touch and we're in. Yours is very nice. It's consistent. You know what to expect. For me, I could be given anything. Vampires with abilities are much more interesting. Those without, it's just pure mind control. I confuse them all the time, they never know what they're actually seeing.", You cracked a smile. "I made one jump off a cliff for no reason. Although, Carlisle was helping me to be a better person. Anyway, that is irrelevant. The point is, you've gotten very comfortable opening doors. Now you're discovering that some doors should never be opened." You stared at Aro. "You should have never looked into my head because now I've looked in yours." You watched as Aro stiffened again, his eyes piercing through you with a deadly look. You stared back into his eyes. "It kills you to think of how much I discovered in the seconds I was in your head. Doesn't it?" Aro didn't respond and you continued. "You even know that if you tried to find out, I'd be back in your head again and I would only do the same as before." "Alec tells us that you've never been so hostile during his time with you." Aro says, moving the conversation before you could say anymore. "That happens when your kidnapped by someone who you thought was a friend. I'm more than aware this was the plan all along." "You could make this easier if you'd join us. You'd be very happy here." Aro responded.  "Easier for you." You corrected. "No thanks." "Then you'll remain here until you change your mind and you will, my dear. You will change your mind." You cracked an amused smile. "We'll see." 

To your surprise, Alec visited you alone. You remained silent. "You know I don't like you being down here." Alec admitted. "You're the one who put me here." You responded. "Felix and Demetri did actually." Alec shot back and you cracked an amused smile. "Whatever." "Would you forgive me?" Alec asked, joking long gone. "If I said I was sorry for our intentions, for ensuring you ended up here. Would you forgive me?" "That depends on what happens next." You responded quietly. "Forever is an awfully long time to be held captive." 

In seconds Alec curled his fingers around the bars, leaning in close. "Just... come up to the bars." Alec said. Slowly you sat in front of the bars, leaning forward slightly. "You shouldn't have brought me here." You told him simply. "My ability is addictive, you know that. I'll hurt people." "That doesn't change my mind about you. Just...don't do that to my sister again. You know-" "She started it." You interrupted. "I know...and I spoke to her." Alec responded. "I told her I didn't appreciate it. She didn't like it herself because she really had began to consider you a friend.We all have bad habits. You're just as quick to use your gift as Jane is to use her own." "You know if you let me out...if you were my friend, you would." Alec smiled sadly, raising a hand to your cheek. "I can't. Perhaps in a perfect world I could, but I'm not perfect, no one is and this world will never be perfect." You looked down in disappointment but didn't move away from his hand. He looked at you momentarily before using the grip he had on the side your face and pulling you towards the bars. He met your lips between the spaces of the bars with his own. In that moment, he had proven what his words could not. He knew the power he had given you with even the lightest of touches yet had given it anyway. A sign of complete trust. Alec broke the kiss. "I want you to stay. Just...think about that." He moved away, letting go. He sent you one last look before heading back upstairs, leaving you alone in the dungeons once more. 

 It wasn't often Alec spent some time alone. There was something about the leave and quiet, the silence enveloped him and put him at ease. He didn't think it would have been possible for someone with super hearing to ever have such a thing as silence. Yet everyone seemed to learn how to be silent, unnoticed. Every movement is graceful and quiet. Knowing you were several floors below him was comforting. In his eyes, the closer you were, the safer you were. Although he couldn't completely enjoy it. You didn't want to be there. Alec wasn't stupid, he knew you didn't just mean the dungeons and he wasn't going to pretend. You didn't want to be there, in the castle. It took you time to ever feel safe in an area. Volterra was so new that it was no surprise that you wanted to flee. Although Alec still hoped you'd stay. If you wanted to stay with him, it would make everything better. Aro wanted you and he'd never let you go. You were clever enough to figure that out. Although you were too stubborn to accept it. Alec lay back on his bed. He rarely used it much like the rest of the vampires in the castle. Although they could appreciate a soft place to land so they were always given if requested. Alec closed his eyes with a deep, unnecessary exhale. When his eyes opened, they widened. You loomed over Alec, smiling, like a predator that had caught it's prey. "Aren't you happy to see me?" "You're not supposed to be here. How did you-?" Alec moved to sit up but realised very quickly that he couldn't move and it wasn't your weight holding him down. He looked over at his hands as best as he could, they didn't even twitch. He looked back up at you startled. "Not a nice feeling is it? To not be able to move but, it could be worse. That's only one of your senses. You take away all five. However, you'll need the other ones. Well, maybe not your sense of smell." You asked. Alec's eyes as suddenly that was gone too. "You did this to me to bring me here and countless others. Are you scared? Like I was to wake up in an unknown place?" Your hands cradled Alec's head. "For what it's worth..." You softly pressed your lips to his in a brief, sweet kiss. You straightened up again. "Although that isn't what I intend to do. I want you to feel the fear I did, that I do." 

Suddenly a match was in your hand. Within a second it was lit. Alec's eyes widened even more in terror. His only fear, fire. You moved it towards his face. "Stop!" He said quickly. You only smiled, moving off of him to lay over him. Your back on his chest, legs in-between his and your head resting next to his on his pillow. You hushed him softly. "It's okay. This isn't real, remember?" Alec swallowed hard, doing his best to remember that. However it didn't make it any easier. "I'd never burn you. However this is the one thing that scares you." You began. "If you hurt me, I'll hurt you. You know that's how it works and these friends of yours have only hurt me. Including you and Jane." Your fingers suddenly curled around the open flame. "Don't!" Alec said quickly, waiting for a cry of pain or the smell of burning flesh- despite having no sense of smell. Although the cry never came. You squeezed your fist tightly around the match, as though suffocating it. When you loosened your hold, revealing the match. It was no longer lit and of any use. "I don't want to hurt you." Alec ground out. "So don't make me. Pull stunts like this and I'll have no choice." You moved off of him, instead rolling into his side. You moved his face to the side, making him look at you. "You said I wasn't evil, yet this place...you make me do evil things. I can do good with this power." Your face changed to one of sadness, looking into Alec's eyes. "I could have loved you once." You said quietly.  Without thinking Alec moved his hand to your face. You gasped and Alec seemed just as surprised since he couldn't feel anything else. Yet he had moved his hands. Before anything could be said, a weight was lifted from him, he could feel and smell everything and you were no longer in the room. 

 You looked down at your hands. Your time with Alec priced that you could use his gift against him. As long as you didn't let anyone else touch you, you could bide your time and escape. However when that time came, your plan didn't work out too well. 

It took three days but you decided that Felix -alone- was the best opportunity you'd get. Alec's gift worked momentarily but you had to touch Felix work it to work and the more contact meant the more Alec's gift trickled away from your control. Felix was frozen in place for only moments before Alec's gift faded away entirely. Like clockwork, Felix lunged. You knew you couldn't let him get his hands around your neck. If he did, it was over. You didn't know if Felix was gifted either, it had never been mentioned before but you knew this man was stronger than other vampires...including you. You caught Felix's arms, doing your best to push against him. Slowly he began overpowering you. Suddenly it stopped. It became apparent you seemed to find strength within yourself, a strength you didn't know you had. That was when you realised, whilst push back against Felix, the strength wasn't yours at all. It was his. Although it wouldn't be enough to push back. You couldn't let Felix catch on your realisation before it was too late. So with a spur of the moment decision that could have been very very stupid, you twisted his arms. 

You heard sickening cracks, Felix's arms twisting to the elbow in a very unnatural angle and became useless. You quickly tripped him to the ground. "So sorry about this. I just need some more time.” You slammed his head against the stone ground. Cracks forming along his face, neck and no doubt the back of his head- the impact point. You hurried up the stairs to be met with Afton, another guard you had met during your time here. You yelped in panic as you grabbed his hands instinctively and throwing him down the stairs of the dungeons. Before you took off running you heard his landing before Afton let out a startled. "Felix!?" You wanted to kick yourself. You hadn't intended on grabbing Afton's hands which meant Felix's strength was gone. As far as you knew, Afton didn't have a gift or anything that could help you. You had to create as much distance as you could with the dungeons and you had no doubt the Volturi was well aware of your escape by now. You weren't exactly quiet in your execution of the plan. 

You found yourself in a large hall of sorts, following the scent of fresh air but it was certainly a process given all the rooms. Within seconds you were grabbed, turned to face the one responsible before tackled to the ground. You realised it was Alec who had a tight grip on your arms. "Stop fighting us!" Alec hissed. "Y'know, what I was called a while ago?" You grinned, struggling against him. "A parasite. Although as far as I see it, nothing I do can get rid of you so who's the parasite now!" You growled as you tried to break Alec's grip that locked you in place but to no avail. "Stop it!" Alec responded. "No!" You snapped back. "You were always going to bring me here. Everyone was right about you. You lied to me. You pretended to be my friend. Hell, you even let me kiss you! I bet you enjoyed how much your little game worked didn't you!?" "Stop talking! You don't know anything! Yes I was sent to find out about you and eventually bring you back but I actually did grow attached." You struggled even more but Alec's grip only got tighter. "Damn it, (Y/N), stop fighting me!" Alec threw you to the ground before pinning you down. You screamed in frustration. Alec had much more experience in combat than you did and you despised how easy you had made it for him. You yelped as you felt his mist creep across your body. "No!" You screamed almost in panic. The last time this happened, you woke up in Italy, where all this began. Alec shushed you as your body went limp. Much like you had done to Alec before, he made sure you couldn't move but could talk, see, hear and smell. You were trapped in your own body. Fear rushed through you. 

Alec loomed over you. "Listen to me, (Y/N)." He said firmly to you. "You think I lied to you about how I feel but I didn't. You think I want to hurt you but I don't and you want to hate me but you don't. You know I will always protect you if you would just stop fighting. I need you to stop. I need you here with me." Suddenly the smallest whine escaped him with a word you never thought he'd say. "Please...please." You were quiet for a moment. "Maybe, if things were different it would be easier to say 'i love you', don't you think?" You asked. "You can't keep me." You whispered. Alec slowly shook his head. Denial. "You can't." You continued firmly. "I can't be a part of Aro's collection and you can't use my feelings to keep me here. I don't want to be a weapon. I want to be me. Don't you understand? My power can make me a terrible person and it's up to me to save you from that person." Alec slowly shook his head. "I won't let you." He said quietly. "I know." You whispered back. "I still have to try." Your brow furrowed as though lifting something heavy. A small whimper escaped you and Alec realised what you had done when the same numb feeling he had felt before and given to many others, travelled up his legs and into every bit of his body. In seconds, he couldn't move, whilst you gained feeling back. You rolled him off you gently. "Don't leave me." He mumbled out as best as he could. You said nothing. Instead moving to stand up before you began to walk away. "(Y/N), don't leave me!" 

 You hurried to maintain some distance again, not knowing how long Alec would stay like that whilst you weren't around. You panicked when you entered another room that was massive. A hallway that had large stone stairs that seemed lead to upstairs on either direction like a 'T'. "No..." You couldn't help but utter. This couldn't be the right way. However, you froze when you heard someone behind you. You turned and much to your horror, it wasn't one person but two. 

"We really should have kept Eleazar around. Perhaps then we could have found you years ago." Caius walked towards you, his eyes trained on you. Marcus looked behind him, his eyes also trained on you. "(Y/N)? That's your name isn't it?" Caius asked. You moved up a stair. "You really do have the wrong impression of us, truly. You see, we protect our kind from the human world. We must in these times. Humans have the technology to hurt us after all. We make sure there is justice and protection for our kind. That's all." Caius finished, just below the stairs. Never did he tear his gaze from you. 

Slowly he began to ascend the stairs, all the while you moved up more stairs to keep the separation. "Gifts like yours are very difficult to hide from us, rumours run like wildfires in our kind. Yet here you are. Only now in our sights. Tell us, little one. Where have you been hiding?" After a pause and your silence, Caius continued to ascend the stairs and you did the same. "We can make you an offer, one that is unheard of for our coven to give." "Lucky me." You mumbled, trying to keep as much distance as possible. Your comment, surprisingly, went ignored. "The Volturi do not give second chances but you, for your cooperation, we could make an exception. You'd have to keep that a secret. We cannot give such chances to just anyone." As he got closer, Caius put out his hands where you could see them but he could also use that same stance to attack you. It wasn't comforting. "We could help you with that gift. Help you with our way of life. You could live long and well. Our food comes to us, you wouldn't have to hunt." 

Marcus was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs and he then spoke up. "My gift senses relationships. I can see your relationship to Alec...and Jane. You don't have anyone else. You keep everyone out, but you want a family. You want people to depend on. We can be your family, we can be the ones you depend on." "You must be desperate to keep me here, to do this yourselves." You said, finally at the top of the stairs. "It'd be unfortunate to have to kill you." Caius responded. "You know my answer." You responded flatly. Caius' eyes narrowed on you, with a slight scowl. "Pity." Just before you could your hands around Caius' neck. He grabbed your arms and threw you down the steps. 

You looked up at him as he descended down the stairs, not even in a hurry. You turned quickly, noticing Marcus was only feet away. You hissed, no longer noticing your now dislocated shoulder that had broken your fall at an odd angle. Caius wrapped his hands around your neck, his knee pressing down painfully on your diaphragm. "Oh my, little one. It seems you only picked up my temper this time. Don't you know that I don't have a gift? Just thousand of years of experience." He smirked down at you as you heard more footsteps approaching. "I've got them." Caius said to whoever had entered. You couldn't move to see who it was. "Wonderful! Well done!" Aro's cheery voice rang out. That was one set of footsteps accounted for. "Let us fix that arm." Marcus bent down to your side and you tried to flail away from him but Caius grip only got tighter. 

Marcus took your arm, surprisingly gently before forcefully tugging your arm back. You tried to pull away from him again but couldn't move under Caius' weight. Once again Marcus tugged forcefully downwards on your arm and with a second popping sound, your arm was back in place.  "There, that must feel better." You could practically hear Aro's smile. Caius hauled you up. His grip on you still tight. It was Aro, Felix, Demetri, the twins and Chelsea. "Alec?" Aro turned to him with a nod. 

In seconds Alec was in front of you and Caius' grip had loosened. Alec pulled you into an embrace, much to your surprise and didn't let go. He continued to hold you to him as with another nod, Chelsea was beside you. She leaned in and began to whisper in your ear. You seemed to catch on what was happening as you gasped and tried to pull away from Alec. However he was stronger, holding you to him very much like he would a hug. Maybe it was. You didn't know. You felt yourself begin to relax into him as Chelsea continued to whisper. You squeezed your eyes shut, a small whimper escaped you as you realised you were losing. They were winning. 

She reassured you, making everything seem okay. Reminding you of your bond with Alec, telling you about how they could help you and would love to consider you one of their coven. You could feel your bonds being tampered with, solidifying bonds that hadn't even existed before. Suddenly you felt no bad feelings for the three leaders. Most of all, you wanted, no, needed to stay with Alec. Forever. 

In that moment, you knew you had lost. She pulled back. Nodding to Aro before stepping away. Alec leaned back to look at you, his eyes sad yet relieved. As though he was finally sure you were safe. He kissed your lips, then the corner of your mouth and then your cheek before moving back into the original embrace.

[4h4hi]

Pretty sure that's normal, right?

Hermittober 2021 -- Day 1 -- Wings -------------------- Etho's finally completed the No Wings Club! Which is great-- except for the fact that he no longer has an excuse not to use an elytra. (How do all the other hermits do it?!)

Or: Etho realizes-- with Bdubs' help-- that his experiences with elytra might not be the same as everyone else's. -------------------- Cross-posted on Ao3-- link in the notes! --------------------

    To fly, or not to fly. That was the question.

    Etho sighed, shaking his head. It was no use deliberating-- he might as well just get it over with.

    After he reached his thousand days in the No Wings Club, he'd stored an elytra in his enderchest, as well as some rockets-- he didn't need it around his and Iskall's base, thanks to Riptide, but the other hermits were a different matter. Visiting Doc had been a hassle while the club was still ongoing, and with the giant mountains that every hermit on the server seemed to be constructing, it would probably be best to get in back in the elytra routine as soon as possible.

    He shuffled the wings out of his enderchest, shaking them out before inspecting their condition. After ensuring the wings themselves were flying fit, he moved on to the horrible, awful, terrible straps of leather they were attached to, which were unfortunately also in working order. Sighing, he buckled them on-- he'd tried to pad the things before, even tried to etch some sort of feather falling-silk touch combo onto the interiors to make them magically less painful to wear...it'd worked with the surface-level pain from the constant digging into his skin through his vest, at least.

    "Ah! Etho!"

    He turned quickly, gripping the hilt of his sword before relaxing at the familiar sight of his friend's round, googly glasses. "Hey, how's it going, Bdubs?"

    Bdubs grinned brightly, leaning against a tree. "Oh, just fine, just fine. Been doing some work here and there on the Big Eyes shopping district-- ran out here to get a few more spruce logs, you know how it is." He pulled out his axe, tapping the butt of the blade against the trunk-- then paused, intrigued. "Wait a minute... are you wearing an elytra?!"

    "Yeppers." Etho flexed the faux wings experimentally. Good, the locking mechanism was working. "Got my final medal a few weeks ago, figured it was about time to get back into using this."

    Bdubs whistled. "Wow, got 'em dyed and everything already. A few weeks, though? You could wait that long?"

    "Well... 's'not like I really need elytra to get around in the savannah."

    "I guess." Bdubs shrugged-- then hefted his axe, wedging it into the bottom of the tree trunk. "Where are you headed, then?" Thunk. "Kinda"-- thunk-- "middle of nowhere"-- thunk-- he set the axe down, exhaling loudly. "Alright. Don't chop and talk, Bdubs, it's impolite. Where ya headed?"

    Etho shrugged. "Nowhere, really. I was planning on just flying around for a few minutes, getting back into shape, getting used to the whole thing."

    A snort. "Sure... getting used to it."

    "Yeah, well. I gotta make sure I don't fall in public." Etho shot back, perhaps a bit sharper than he should have-- "can't have the people know I'm not an expert."

    Bdubs nodded in mock seriousness-- "right, right. Of course! Gotta keep 'em all fooled." A sigh, a kind grin. "No, I'm just teasin' ya. Go do your flyin', poor old Bdubs'll be here chopping logs."

    Etho chuckled, giving his friend a mock salute before grabbing a firework out of his inventory, pulling the start string, and taking off.

    Flying fireworks were a pretty ingenious invention-- Etho hadn't come up with them himself, of course, but he couldn't help but admire the design. A string attached to a fire-starting strip pulled through the base of the firecracker in order to ignite the gunpowder-- he pulled the string upwards, avoiding the flame, though it wouldn't hurt him through his standard enchanted gloves. (He'd have to customize those later-- dying them like his standard blue ones should be fine if he didn't come up with a better idea.)

    He'd only gone through a few fireworks out of his stack, but he considered that a victory. What had it been, ten minutes? Twelve? Either way, his shoulders were already crying out for mercy; he grimaced underneath his mask, scanning the ground for a good place to land.

    Normally he wouldn't have done his first flight around Bdubs, but... well. It didn't really matter-- his friend was probably having the same struggles, what with his flip-flopping between wearing elytra and going without.

    He should probably tease him about that.

    The forest below was missing... maybe three, four trees compared to before. Etho narrowed his eyes-- Bdubs was striking his axe into a fir next to the small clearing he'd created, completely oblivious to his altudiously advantaged watcher.

    Etho grinned and dived.  

    "Aah! Wh-- Etho!"

    He skidded to a stop in the grass behind Bdubs, twirling the stolen axe in the air with a snicker. "Did I get ya?"

    "Get me? I almost had a heart attack!" Bdubs stomped over, slugging Etho in the shoulder as he swiped at his axe; Etho quickly adjusted so that the axe was held right out of Bdub's reach. "Oh good grief!"

    Etho chuckled deviously. "Oh, sorry, I should hold this down for you, I forgot." He leaned down so that the axe was a few inches above the ground, earning a indignant shout from his friend-- and then dropped it, letting out an involuntary "oof" as his back protested at the motion.

    Bdubs snatched his axe from the ground. "Hah! Serves you right. Old man Etho having back trouble?" he crowed triumphantly-- then paused, pushing up his googly-eye glasses to look at Etho in concern. "Hey, man, are you okay? Do you need to sit down or somethin'?"

    Etho sighed. "No, I... okay, fine." He smacked away Bdubs' arm as the other tried to help him over to the shade of a nearby tree-- thankfully he was still able to stand up this time, at least for the most part. Using the tree to keep himself steady, he unbuckled his elytra before lowering himself to the ground with a pained huff.

    "So," Bdubs started, flopping onto the ground next to him. "You okay, big guy? That was kinda out of nowhere."

    Etho shrugged, then winced, immediately regretting the painful motion. "I mean, it wasn't out of nowhere, was it? It was my first elytra flight of the season. It's always gonna be a little rough, especially since I've gone so long without using one."

    Bdubs frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You were up there for like... five minutes, tops. That shouldn't bother your back enough that you almost fall over."

    "I did not 'almost fall over!'"

    "Did too!"

    Etho rolled his eyes. "Did not. Besides, it was more like ten minutes, right?"

    Bdubs scoffed. "Do you doubt the clock-keeping abilities of the Time King, Etho?"

    "Ah, the Time King. How could I forget." Etho deadpanned.

    "Hey! Stop trying to get me off topic, you... you... ohhh, I know you're laughing at me, stop that!" Despite his protests, Etho did not miss the fact that Bdubs was laughing along. "But... seriously. Does your back hurt often? Like, have you been doing any heavy lifting lately?"

    Etho thought about it for a moment. "Not more than the usual, no. But the pain's been pretty normal, too."

    Bdubs looked at him oddly. "Normal? Like, what's normal for you? Like"-- he tapped his leg, seemingly reaching for the right words-- "like, let's say you've got a scale of one to ten, and one is 'I'm Fine,' five is 'I'm pretty uncomfortable and I might have to not, say, fly as much' and ten is, uh. Bad."

    "Uhh..." Etho snorted. "Like, daily, or..." after seeing Bdubs' affirmative nod, he continued. "Well, back in Season Seven when I was flying a lot more, it was like, a four on a good day?"

    "On a good day."

    "Yeah?" Etho answered, perplexed. "And normally it would be around a five. But nowadays it's been better, what with the No Wings Club. Like, maybe a four or five usually instead of six or seven."

    "Instead of--" Bdubs spluttered. "Etho!"

    "What?" Etho laughed. "That's normal, isn't it? Like, we aren't built for flying like Grian or Pearl are. S'just how the muscles work on most players."

    "And the-- the other pain?! Without flying?!" Bdubs half-shouted.

    Etho pondered this for a moment. "Dunno. Never really thought about it."

    "Never really--" Bdubs covered his face in his hands with a groan. "Etho. My friend. My fellow redstone genius." He looked up at him, a desperate expression on his face. "Do you mean to tell me that you... just... feel pain, all the time, and... you think it's normal?"

    He stared at him. "Is... is it not?"

    Bdubs stared back. "Oh my gosh."

    "What?"

    "You're an idiot."

    "Hey!"

    "No, but seriously!" Bdubs jumped to his feet, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly in an attempt to convey his extremely confusing point. "You... feeling pain-- it's not-- it's not supposed to be normal. Does it ever stop? Are you ever-- what d-- the-- you--" He pulled up the bottom of his moss-colored sweater, holding it to his face to muffle his frustrated scream. When he uncovered his head, he looked back over at Etho, who was genuinely surprised at how distraught his friend appeared to be. "Did... we've been friends for forever, Etho. Why didn't you ever tell me-- or Beef, or Doc, or-- or anyone?"

    "I..." He didn't know what to say. "I guess I thought it was normal. And, like, I didn't want to bother anyone."

    "You didn't want to... bother anyone," Bdubs muttered, disbelieving. "About... about... being in pain."

    Etho shrugged, grateful his back had calmed down enough to allow him to move without dying. "I mean, yeah. Like, it's not a big deal, you know? I didn't think anyone would care."

    "I would care!" Bdubs yelled suddenly, desperately putting a hand over his heart, waving the other towards the Boatem village-- "Doc would care! Beef would care! Hell, if you told any of the hermits 'hey, I'm Etho, my back hurts like I crushed it with one of my anvils, sorry to bother you' I bet you fifty diamonds-- no, fifty diamond blocks they would have helped out in a heartbeat! You can't"-- he laughed, exhausted-- "you can't just say 'no one would care!'"

    Etho frowned, staring at nothing in particular. A few leaves fell off a stray oak tree. A squirrel darted through a fallen trunk.

     "Well." He sighed quietly, hauling himself off the ground. "I... I guess I just didn't know it was something I needed to ask about." Stretching quickly, he touched his gloved palms to the pine-needle covered floor, legs straight. "If... if you're mad at me, I--"

    "Mad at you? I'm-- I'm--" Bdubs' face melted as he walked up to Etho, putting his hands on his shoulders-- then grumbling, taking a piece of scaffold out of his inventory, placing it down, climbing on top and trying again. "There. Equal height. But"-- he took a deep breath. "Etho, I'm not mad at you. I just... I'm worried! You... you're my friend, Etho. I don't want you to be in pain, and-- and it makes me feel awful that I didn't notice you were hurting sooner."

    Etho stared at him for a moment, taken aback. "Oh."

    Bdubs snorted. "Yeah! 'Oh,' he says, 'oh.' C'mere, stupid." He pulled Etho into a tight, quick hug, then let him go, looking at him with watery eyes. "Oh, you."

    Etho grinned. "Who, me?"

    "Yes, you, stupid!" A pause-- then a sigh. "Ah, I'm just kiddin'. Love ya, buddy."

    A snort. "Love you too."

    ...

    "By the way, you'd better talk to Stress about this later."

    "Uh... nice talking to you, Bdubs, real-- real good talking to you, but I gotta"-- Etho shuffled through his inventory, grabbing an enderpearl-- "uh, gotta go." He lobbed it... somewhere. Hopefully not in a lava pool.

    "Uh-huh! Sure!" Bdubs yelled after him, even as he vwoop'ed to his new location. "Yeah, I'll call her myself if I have to! You'd better watch out, I bet she makes house calls!"

    Etho chuckled as he started at a leisurely pace towards home. He'd talk to Stress about it at some point. Maybe. Probably. Bdubs' threat didn't hold any water.

    Hopefully.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

[officialleehadan]

Croczilla

Hello darlings! Second story of Prompt Month! Today's story was brought to you by CJessie! Darling, thank you so much!

Prompt: The Monster of the Island

+++

Turns out that when Mariska talks about fishing, what she actually means is fishing with a spear. I’m not totally sure this is a good idea, but I’m also pretty hungry, and although the giant tarantulas are pretty good, fish sounds good too.

I didn’t do a lot of fishing the last time I was on this god-forsaken island. The land was already dangerous enough that I didn’t want to risk adding water to the mix. I went to the river when I absolutely had to. I know that some of the snakes like water, and there are plenty of normal-sized, or python-sized snakes, and I saw more than one hanging out by the water.

“Be careful,” I reiterate when we reach the water’s edge. I watch it carefully for any sign that there’s something waiting for us, but I know perfectly well that most water-based ambush predators are masters of being absolutely invisible. We won’t see them until they attack us. “We don’t’ know what’s under that water, or how deep it is.”

“You didn’t come down here for water?”

“I tried not to. I used leaves to funnel rain into my bottle. Didn’t get as much water, but it was safer.”

Together, they spread out along a spot on the bank. The river was wide, but mostly shallow with a few deep pools. I saw fish here a few times, but I didn’t want to risk the river to go after them. Not when there was other, less risky food around. Mariska moves towards the water, careful and graceful even on the slick, slimy rocks. She has a spear, her knife lashed neatly to a long, straight stick with paracord.

“I used to do this as a kid,” she calls to us. Siggi and Zack. Keep their backs to her, watching the trees. Círce covers Marishka and the rest of us, in the middle of our circle, ready with her rifle. Marishka balances out on a fallen log, boots steady. “This kind of deep hole always has something living in- crap!”

Before she can even begin to spot a fish, the log she’s standing on rumbles.

Marishka uses the log’s momentum to throw herself high into the air in a graceful backflip that takes her all the way back to the river bank.

“Into the trees!” Zack yells as the croc clears the river, and all I can see is teeth. The second thing I see, as I scramble for the nearest tree is a mouth big enough to take a doun-doun whole. It’s a crocodile, or maybe an alligator. I’ve never been able to tell them apart. I guess it doesn’t matter when they’re trying to eat you. This one is gigantic. It’s as big around as the trees around us. Ten men together couldn’t reach around it. Water flies in every direction as it lunges out at us. “Climb!”

We work together to get up into the trees. It’s not hard. These aren’t trees that have ever been pruned. The dead branches are low, but brittle. We have to be careful as we climb. Zack and Siggi have it the worst. They’re the biggest and heaviest of us. Marishka solves the problem by climbing faster than the rest of us, and securing a rope to the higher, sound branches. With it to help, we make it up out of the reach of the immense creature.

“Croczilla?!” Círce says when we’re all safely settled in the higher branches. Now that we’re clear, I look down to get a good look at the creature under us. It’s giant. Not as big as the giant snakes, but it’s probably close to twenty feet. That’s not out of the question for a really big crocodile, but the big thing about this one is how big it is around the middle. It’s not long, but it’s broad across the back, and what would be scales on a normal croc are full spines on this one. “We were not told about Croczilla!”

“I never saw one while I was here,” I tell her. The croc circles around tree, and the tree shakes when it tries to rattle us down, but the tree has deep roots and it holds up. It’s got moss coating its back, and deep green-brown scales under. When it’s in the water, it looks just like a dead log. So much that it fooled all of us and Marishka walked on it. “I stayed away from the river, remember?”

“Is this why?”

“Call it intuition. Everything else tried to eat me. I figured something in the water would too.”

“Good call,” Zack says and looks down at the croc. “It’s gonna try to wait us out.”

“So do we fight, or flee?” Siggi asks. He’s watching the croc too, but in the way a hunter watches a particularly difficult target. He’s figuring out how to fight this thing. “Círce’s rifle might be enough to give it something to think about.”

“Not through a croc skull,” Marishka disagrees. She’s watching the croc too. “Something that big is gonna be better than bulletproof plating. A shot to the head is just gonna make it mad, and nothing smaller will bother it enough to drive it off.”

“I have grenades,” Zack offers tightly. I start looking around for ways out. We’re pretty high up, but there are more trees nearby. Marishka could make the jump to the next tree over with the rope. The rest of us could swing over. Zack sees me considering our options. “Boss, you got something?”

“I didn’t survive here by trying to fight,” I remind him, and look up at Marishka. “You think you could stick a landing in the next tree over?”

“She floats through the air with the greatest of ease,” Marishka tells us with a grin, quoting an old song about a boy on a trapeze. She balances on a long, springy branch and bounces twice to check the spring of it. “Let’s see how much air I can get without falling into the jaws of Croczilla.”

+++ The Monster of the Isle:

He survived once. now they want him to do it again.

Isle of Monsters

Return to the Isle of Monsters

Monsterpedia

Doom in the Distance (Subscriber Only!)

Eight Down

In the Trees (Subscriber Only!)

Specimen Hunting

First Changes (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

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