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countrymusiclover · 10 months

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71 - Mikaelson’s before Gemini

Part 72

Gemini Runaway

Tag list ask to be added @icefrye19 @secretdreamlandmentality

One year ago

“Alina, get down from there!” I scolded my five year old daughter who was sitting on one of the beams holding up the apartment ceiling.

She giggled down at me. “I’m on top of the world!”

“How did you even get up there?” Putting my hands on my hips I sent her a glare.

I heard someone sneeze behind me after they ran into Jo’s dresser where she kept the ascendent. “Ow!”

“Hope!” I grumbled when she became visible with Missy at her side. “Did you help your sister with a levitation spell?”

Missy nodded. “We thought it would be fun.”

“Okay family meeting…..everyone on the ground floor now.” I declare seeing my second child jump down landing on her feet beside me. The three girls sat down on the bed waiting for me to say something. “We need to go over some rules. One - don’t do magic unless I am in the room. Two - always stay with each other, it's not safe to be alone even here.”

Missy raised her hand. “Mom, what is the toy with all the bells and gears in Jo’s cabinet?”

“Hmm…you mean this. It’s called the Ascentdent.” Rummaging around in her top dresser drawer pulling out the weird rounded object.

Alina tilted her head. “What is it for?”

“It’s a key to a prison world that my uncle Joshua Parker created. But you will never meet him. Keeping a very powerful psycho away from others.” Rolling it back up into his Jo had it hidden I closed the drawer. “And it’s not a toy. Do you understand that?”

They all nodded in agreement to me. “It’s not a toy.”

Walking through the park of the college my phone rang and it was an unknown number but I answered it regardless. “Did you think that I wouldn’t find out where you were at, little niece?”

“Uncle Joshua, are we really still having this over the phone? I told you I will release Kai without hesitation!” I snapped at him clutching my freehand closed tightly.

Spinning around on my feet throwing my hair around I gasped stumbling backwards a little seeing him actually standing behind me. “Sometimes you’re clever and other times you don’t impress me, Raelyn. Now let’s talk this out.”

“I don’t think so.” Putting my phone back in my pocket I glared at him. “You do realize I won’t let you anywhere near my kids.”

Joshua walked forward with his hand together pleading with me. “Raelyn, please understand this. Now that you are a vampire the line needs to be reversed back to me. Your children are far too young and you bore three kids.”

“But you don’t know any spell to reverse it. Otherwise you would have done it yourself!” I fought against his words.

My uncle threw his hands away from his sides. “Because I don’t have the leadership power anymore. It’s running through your veins not mine. Meaning we have to work together to shift the ability back to me.”

“So you can trick me and force my daughters into merging like you did me and my twin brother!” I shouted getting in his face when I vamped forward. “Because get this through your skull I will never help you to hurt anyone else in our bloodline. Whoever created this tradition is a psycho just like you say Kai is!”

He huffed his shoulders before I heard giggling coming from behind us. Whipping my head around I noticed my three girls running through the grass. "Mommy!"

"Girls, hey we need to go now." I rushed forward to push them away from my uncle.

Yet Missy bless her sweet soul. "Who are you, I'm Missy Mikaelson." She moved around my legs, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

"I'm Joshua - ah!" He stuck his hand downward until he grabbed his head.

He shifted his gaze up watching me holding up my right hand. "Back away from her now!"

"Is he a bad guy?" Alina asked, raising her hand and moving closer to me to siphon me if I told her too.

Hope peaked around my leg. "He's the guy who put Kai away."

"Yeah he is. But we are leaving now. So good day." Grabbing their hands I snapped at Missy. "Melissa let's go."

She dropped her gaze to her shoes. "Oh okay."

Uncle Joshua raised his hand up chanting a spell freezing us all in our place. "Immobilis. Now I have tried to be nice. But this must stop. You aren’t thinking of the Coven. You are just thinking of yourself and the children you have."

"It's called being a parent. Maybe you should try it sometime. Oh, wait, you failed your children." I scoffed at him Grunting against his spell.

He slowly walked around us until he was meeting my eyes. "I was the Coven leader first. My children have been trained for this. Yet you aren't living up to your potential. Give my power back and I'll leave you alone."

"No you won’t. The only way you'll leave me and my family alone is if my children become vampires too."

Joshua shoved his hands in his pockets. "Let’s make a deal, Raelyn. You give me the leader power and I leave you and your hybrid family alone. Because once I become the leader the line will revert back to my line."

"Fine. Let us out of here." I agree to his terms.

He waved his hand upward. "Regelo. Now let’s go somewhere more private."

"Where your house?" I questioned him, feeling the spell disappeared.

Joshua got closer, taking my hands in his. My daughters hugged my legs before he shut his eyes. When I looked around I saw we were in the middle of the woods. "You brought me where I had to kill my brother!" I growled recognizing the area since it was near the border into Mystic Falls.

"For the spell to work we needed to go where your power was the strongest. This is where you gained my magic. So the transfer must be done here." My uncle explained drawing a knife out of his pocket.

Holding my hand up I spun on my heels beckoning my girls closer where I could whisper in their ears. "Come closer. I need you guys to start chanting this one we cut our palms and hold hands…” They all nodded watching me get to my feet heading back over to him.

“Ladies first, little niece.” He offered me the blade where I sighed, drawing the blade down my hand quickly handing it back to him. He cut his palm too before we intertwined hands.

Squeezing his hands in mine he winced when I began siphoning off him for a brief moment chanting along with him. “Sanguinem desimilus, Sanguinem generis flantes. Sanguinem desimilus, Sanguinem generis flantes…Tillate ulaz tillate ulaz tillate ulaz. Tillate ulaz tillate ulaz tillate ulaz.”

Joshua had his eyes closed when I peaked an eye open seeing the trees getting thrashed around because of the magic. Slowly turning my head I nodded towards my daughter’s giving them the silent signal. “Venez sanguis, venez sanguis. Venez sanguis la force de la bete a moi.” The blood dripped from our hands hitting the dirt until our girls lowered their hands on the ground. Alina and Missy’s hands turned red siphoning the magic towards them.

“Thank you, Raelyn. But there is something you should know….” Once the spell was done we broke hands separating from one another.

Knitting my brows at him, it didn’t sound good where he was going with this. “What the heck have you done, uncle Joshua?”

“You did give me the power but -“ He grabbed me by my throat where I gasped and was taken by surprise. “The line still falls on your children. And since you gave me the strength you had running through your veins. You can’t unlink them without my blood as an anker.”

He launched me where I slide into a tree with my daughters running towards me. “Ugh! You bastard. You broke our deal!”

“I'm sorry Rae. But I couldn’t let you have the opportunity to unleash my son. Now I don’t have to worry. Here’s some advice, the coven comes before blood.” Joshua responded by waving his hands and disappearing within seconds.

Stumbling to my feet I grabbed my daughter’s hands until we magically transported ourselves into Jo’s apartment. Jaocb sat upright from his bed in our room seeing that I was swaying on my feet rather tired. “Rae, oh my god. What happened?”

“Uncle Joshua tricked me. He said he would leave my daughters alone if I gave him back the leadership magic he handed over to me.” I clutched my hands into fists falling onto my knees struggling to not rip everything apart. “But he betrayed me. He…he has the power back and he will come for Alina and Missy later in life.”

Jacob glanced at the girls who were standing there with some blood on their hands. “Then why did he hurt them?”

“He didn’t, J. He may have tricked me into giving him the power but…agh.” I moaned getting to my feet and waved them over. “Girls come here. Help mommy. I need that blood you gathered.”

Alina sent me a brow. “What was it for, mom?”

Opening my palms out for them I kept explaining to my brother who hadn’t caught on yet. “He only thinks that he won. But the girls did a spell to gather my blood and his together. So now I have the link of our entire coven in their palms.”

“Meaning what?” He took a step forward seeing the blood from their palms drip onto the floor at our feet.

“Draw a circle of salt around us and I can unlink us.” Alina, Missy and Hope all grasped onto my hands. Jaocb came back and did as I said , drawing a circle where we were standing with the blood inside the circle our feet were making. “Phasmatos tribum, nas ex veras, uenes fes matos et somnos. Ex totum ex um maleo matos.”

Closing my eyes I sucked in a breath hearing my daughter’s following after the chant I started. “Phasmatos tribum, nas ex veras, uenes fes matos et somnos. Ex totum ex um maleo matos.” The blood on the floor slowly separates from each other and then bursts into flames.

“Oh.” Missy broke away gasping. Hope stumbled into the bed and Alina bent her knees trying to catch her breath.

Jaocb came over to me putting a hand on my back, eyeing the burnt blood on the carpet. “Are you positive it worked?”

“Yes ... .now the rest of Gemini coven isn’t our problem anymore.” I sighed in relief running my fingers through my hair smiling that my plan actually worked. “We don’t have to be Gemini Runaway’s anymore.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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mandalhoerian · 1 year

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NO TIME TO DIE | leon kennedy x oc | 2

pairing: leon s. kennedy x oc word count: 8K~ warnings: graphic descriptions of gore and violence, mentions of past child abuse, mentions of racism, suicidal thoughts, brian irons is a warning sign himself, cringy awkward humor between two people who dont know what the fuck they're doing and suspiciously frequent mentions of leon's ass, whiplash of emotions summary: Vera is confronted with possibility of her life's greatest loss on top of her cowardice, and Leon with what the greater good in this hellhole is: to follow orders or what he knows to be right thing to do? READ ON AO3 ! CH. 3 ☆ NO TIME TO DIE MASTERPOST

Portable white curtains obscured the view to Leon and gave the father-daughter duo some privacy in the middle of the spacious main hall of the station as he geared up. Vera was slumped on a crate, elbows on knees, and hands shaking around the empty bottle of berry juice; all of her energy was going into regulating her emotions so she wouldn’t have a meltdown. Marvin was breathing raggedly at the corner of her vision but she couldn’t bear to look at him, physically couldn’t bring herself to take one look, afraid that if she saw the deterioration, it’d somehow become the trigger of reality on Marvin’s temple to take him away the moment she acknowledged it.

The ashy undertone of his once healthy brown skin flashed right before her eyes every time she closed them — the blood staining his uniform brighter than ruby, it wouldn’t leave her, stained the back of her mind, sticky red soot. “How did this happen — no, when did this happen, since when?”

The air hung heavy, bearing the answer spelled out in the silence.

Her bones trembled under how he might have been trying to hide it as they were talking over the radio acting fine and dandy. How bizarre it was that Vera went to explode his ear off from complaining even when she got the smallest scratches, and her father hid away as long as he could until it’d take one strong sneeze to knock him out. She didn’t want to think about what he was planning to do disappearing off in that condition, she didn’t want to think about the exhausted acceptance of death in his face — didn’t want to think about how Marvin had already left her behind in his mind.

Instead, she listened to him saying, “It doesn’t matter, Vera. None of that matters,” — foreign, small, shaky. A Marvin who was a stranger to her.

A Marvin who was the personification of her worst nightmares.

Vera’s eyes burned at the sheer amount of effort he put in to talk normally without letting his pain show. “It fucking does!”

Marvin scowled. “Now you know better than to use that language around me—”

He was bleeding out, how was this relevant?

“I don’t care!” Vera threw away the plastic as far away as she could, standing up in nervous energy her body couldn’t get rid of, it was a bomb clashing against the silence that came after. “What is that wound? What the fuck is it? Did they claw on you, were you—”

“Vera,” Marvin leaned back, calm, strained, eyes closed. “Enough.”

No, it couldn’t be.

That had to be a simple gash, he was simply distasteful at her implying he was bitten. Of course. “Then let me tend to this, why haven’t you put anything on it yet?”

The question itself was a dare to the worst possible response ever, it dared to be asked so the answer would be different from what it wanted confirmed.

No word of how Marvin was missing the whole time between the arrival of UBCS soldiers and Leon — and why exactly he was gone. Vera would ignore it for the sake of changing the reason altogether, if she could fix him from here on out, it didn’t matter, not right now.

“I can’t waste these resources on me.”

Spoken like a person who knew the date of his death.

Vera recoiled back, “What?”

The word left the trembling lips of a child, holding tightly to the leg of a parent who had his back turned, half gone in spirit, half ready to leave with a suitcase in hand, sand slipping away from her fingers.

He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t go like this.

She crouched in front of him, trying to catch his eyes and clutching to Marvin’s hands like a madman, not even a thought spared to how his hands were fucking icy and sticky from blood. “There is nobody else. It’s just me, you, and Leon over there. I don’t know where David is. This is all we have left. How can you say it would be a waste? How can you ever—” She had to swallow to not choke up, shaking her head. “You’re losing so much blood, just— have you gone stupid from it?”

He glared at her, his complexion might be worrying but the energy to scold her had not been snuffed off. “I’m still me enough to know this is disrespect, young lady. Don’t play with me, I’m your father even though I’m letting you call me by my name. Understand?”

One part of her wanted to smile at this, good. She could still agitate him to this degree. “Stubborn ox. I’m patching you up,” She stood up and ignored his protesting, it broke her to see him writhe in pain, her jaw clenched, anger simmering lava hot underneath her skin. “You can complain about it all you want. I’m not letting you treat yourself as deadbeat, we’re going to get out of here and you’ll be okay.”

“I’m with her on that, Lieutenant.”

That made Vera flinch and she almost dropped the first aid kid she had grabbed — if Leon’s voice came any closer, she would have jumped too. She had forgotten he was there.

“You just met my daughter and you think that gives you the right to listen in on our private conversation?”

“Lean back,” Vera settled right in front of Marvin again, opening the box and inspecting the contents of it. They had the bandages, disinfectant and cotton she was looking for to make a temporary fix to this, what she needed was herbs — and surprise surprise, not in here. She wished she knew how to medically stitch, that would have been helpful in the absence of herbs or first aid sprays until she could gather enough courage to venture into the unknown to look for supplies.

“I’m sorry lieutenant,” Leon swallowed, “I wasn’t exactly trying to listen, it was just loud…”

“That she is,” Marvin shifted and hissed in pain, clutching his bloody gash harder. Fresh and thick blood flowed between his fingers and all she wanted to do was sit back and scream and cry like a kid. Instead, she gushed disinfectant on a cloth and pressed it hard against him and screwed her eyes shut as a broken yell ripped from him, holding him down when he sprung up from his seat.

It burned in her heart worse than his wound ever could, a selfish thought perhaps, but it was the ruthless truth, suffering double the pain of a precious someone was the price you paid for letting them become precious — their suffering became your curse, the fear of loss held your lungs hostage.

The rookie cop shuffled behind them, his silence stifling against Marvin’s choked grunts of pain. Vera kept cleaning the blood and dressing the gash, and Leon finally dropped the bomb. “Does anyone know what started this?”

Her hands stopped momentarily.

This was a brewing question, asked around too many times, and rightfully so. People wanted to know if this was divine retribution from above or something man-made and curable. Each discussion had Vera getting a little smaller where she was, shame lowering her head down low, and escaping anywhere she could from prying, desperate innocents looking for only a drop of salvation from her.

For what could she say after confirming she did know the genesis when the following question would be: “Why didn’t you do anything to stop it?”

Many excuses lined up in her defense:

I’m one person, they own the city.

What could I have done? They would have silenced me if I spoke up.

I was trying to find a better way to go about it, I swear, I had to be smart at handling this.

Marvin’s state in her mind gestured to himself, one breath away from becoming a corpse. “How could you let it get to this point?”

Because of course that question would come to mind first when preceded by Vera as the subject instead of how she even knew in the first place. She was quite the rumored private investigator in Raccoon; had her infamous ways, did a lot of helping off the record where the police were of no use. If anybody in the city would have any inkling about what really was going on, it would be Vera, that’s what she was known for, and what she was proud of once.

Her primary focus was on bounty hunting, which tied her directly to RPD, collaborating with law enforcement to find and detain wanted individuals was the forefront of her activities as a private eye, followed closely by trial preparation and civil investigations — being a registered bounty hunter, though, was how she was able to get to know most of the police officers outside of being the daughter of Lieutenant Branagh, including the newly established STARS team she got to witness being formed, in her three years of career.

At the very core of it, though, everything was a strategic move on her part to monitor the activities of Chief Irons more closely, and to gain evidence to dig his grave, quiet as a snail, boiling the water of the frog that he was so slowly that he wouldn’t notice being cooked. The man was Vera’s worst enemy as the diabolical director of the Racoon City Orphanage who made life a living hell exploiting Vera as a public wonderkid figure first, a perverted serial killer second, and the disgusting stooge of Umbrella third.

In the beginning when this wasn’t about the petrifying discovery by Vera of an unforgivable breach of human rights, and the violation the Biological Weapons Convention which the U.S. signed and ratified in 1972, Irons was only a monster figure to her child self she couldn’t stand up against in fear of being striked down and starved for days just to the limit where it wouldn’t threaten her diabetes. He hid away her friends after their adoptions, withheld the information from Vera when she asked, baiting her with one more interview to yet another news channel about her newest entry that made the robotics summit and then he’d tell, allow her a phone call too, maybe, depending on how well-behaved she’d be, how grateful she was to Umbrella for sheltering her and supporting her hobbies.

Because that was the reason she existed as Umbrella’s precious PR project, the “Doe-eyed Jane” of the headlines and the news, every parent’s dream child, her own generation’s trauma, a one-in-a-century technological genius who had taken up the US in a storm the moment Umbrella began parading her around in competitions and fairs alike to show off her projects — all to advertise her benefactor Oswald E. Spencer, and polish their image in the eyes of the public eye, gush about how benevolent they were spoon feeding an orphan, and how merry she was in the orphanage that she must call it home.

She was adorable, perfect, had a good head above her shoulders, inspired girls who wanted more out of life all over the country, adults cooed over her whenever she went, and Time magazine made her the Woman of the Year in 1986. It was a bizarre life she recalled only so little of that it seemed like she conjured everything up herself if it wasn’t for their proof of existence even down to the details she had a hard time remembering having been documented.

Back at the orphanage, though, a stark contrast to the star-framed life weaved for the cameras, she was the poor Jane Doe nobody wanted to adopt despite being continentally loved and madly gifted, all children she befriended disappeared one by one after being adopted, and she was left behind, all alone — with the director Brian Irons who took pleasure in a mere child’s suffering.

She had one flaw, he used to say, she just wasn’t milky enough. Her skin was too dirty (it wouldn’t come off no matter how many baths she took), her nose didn’t slope like a Barbie’s (it didn’t arch gracefully no matter how long she tried to change it with clothes pegs), her hair was a curly bird’s nest (it didn’t become silky straight no matter how much she combed). If only Jane were a blonde — Irons had commented once, his shadow something out of a horror movie, beady eyes shifty in their sockets as the light eerily reflected from them, how loved she would be by him, he’d have adopted her in a heartbeat even though she was a horrible, horrible child.

Nobody would have believed Vera if she had come forward with half the shit she could remember being subjected to by him after hitting adolescence in the safe custody of Marvin, and finally digesting that she wasn’t the problem. Irons had a reputation of a saint, despite being anything but.

To think all of this had started out with wanting to get back at him for the things he did to her and learn the whereabouts of her friends.

Vera would have joined Umbrella as an engineer already if her life wasn’t changed by discovering the threatening emails he sent to the Birkins while she was doing maintenance in the station.

She was barely sixteen years old then, having been accepted to Raccoon University with a major in computer engineering, continuing her internship in the main building of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals shadowing the IT Team. Irons was a greedy son of a bitch not wanting to pay anybody to oversee the technical support — and maybe, not to dare sniffing around where they shouldn’t, and saw just a kid he had molded to submission and still could call “Jane” to her face even after she changed her name to “Vera”, and the daughter of one of his officers at his service who wouldn’t take any money for her services, also loyal to Umbrella because of her position as well. He thought her harmless, despite knowing firsthand what her intelligence could accomplish, that was his hubris, he regarded her so little.

How brave and victorious Vera had felt with what she’d unexpectedly dug up. Bribery, corruption, fraud, all of them admitted over the back-and-forths between him and the Birkins. She could dangle these over his head, make it the sword of Damocles, finally confirm that it wasn’t because they all hated Vera (couldn’t stand her in the first place, she was a liability) that all of her adopted friends cut ties with her after they left, and have him tell her their contact information so she could reconnect with them. Everything was set right in the world for just a day.

Instead of uncovering dirt on the scum of the earth like she thought she succeeded in, what was unleashed ended up being Pandora's box, and Vera was left face to face with an unimaginable evil — experimentation and subject in the same sentence in William Birkin’s response to something; that they had run out, and Irons had to make the arrangements to send more.

Vera was a child genius, yes, and knew her worth, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of getting that primordial terror of implied horrors painted by an imagination running wild. All the forked rivers spreading in different directions about the possible explanations joined into one sea: That her friends weren’t adopted, they were taken away to become test subjects. Vera knew madness to be just an abstract word out of her reach, this was her unkind introduction to it, all it took was one push and she hadn’t yet seen the bottom of it yet — and that same madness led her to run away screaming from the flowery path Umbrella was escorting her on.

From a scorned but terrified kid throwing away a life of promised success in the name of wanting to be more than what Umbrella wanted — to seek out the truth but not knowing how, to a more seasoned and cynical detective who couldn’t see a way out for truth to shine through from the blindfold of a corrupt, bought city of hidden evils; it all came down to this one thing: I was scared, I’m not a hero, this isn’t a film, I’m a coward, I don’t know what to do.

It all came down to fear.

Fear of what she had discovered and not knowing what to do with it. All she wanted was to know about her friends and now she was left with the worst outcome possible. What could be about this, ever? How could someone dare to utter a letter of it when all it took was a fabricated suicide to keep this in the ground forever? What justice could ever console the grief and mourning haunting Vera’s every day with the reality she was living in? What else was left for her but Marvin? Half-heartedly helping Jill in her investigation on Umbrella was a daredevil act on her part, still held back by fear but hoping that someone would be able to do something with what Vera was sitting on, that was all she could afford. It was the last attempt, a piss excuse of an effort, a cry for help — at their core, helter-skelter because she was a fucking coward.

And that cowardice was about to cost Vera her only family in the world. She had fabricated her own tragedy.

Because at the end of this road to nowhere, with no safe place to turn to and nobody for her voice to reach, she was left with no choice but to throw this whole city in the garbage, as long as Marvin was by her side she could start anew. Some savings she had were waiting in the bank, perhaps she could begin by opening a small private investigator’s office and use her connections to build a new pool of customers, if that wasn’t enough, she could always make use of her older skills and stay afloat with a repair shop — or just focus on computer maintenance, it was in demand these days. Vera was a jack of all trades type of person, dabbled in a lot of fields out of boredom back in the day as the feeling used to dictate her life. Thanks to that, though, her expertise was wide, finding a job starting out from the bottom wouldn’t be a problem for her, she loved a challenge, it could be fun.

This mindset was now bringing her karma. The world had gone to hell, and the only thing that kept Vera protecting her hope was Marvin — if she lost him too, then the next best thing was joining him in death on her own terms, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight, she would do anything to keep him alive, it wasn’t over yet, he didn’t deserve dying like this, Vera couldn’t fail him.

Marvin’s cold touch covered the hand she was crushing the roll of bandage with, pity and affection winding each other towards her, a question hidden in his gaze. Did she want him to reveal the truth to Leon, or not? When she shook her head noticeably, the motion supported by her saying no with her eyes, he gestured her to go sit down languidly.

What would Leon gain by going down the metaphorical rabbit hole to a conspiracy so vile? He was just a fresh graduate from the police academy, it was better for him to focus on saving himself, there was no point in looking for a why in the face of death, it was the trait of naive heroes that didn’t know any better.

“Not a clue,” Marvin said, tearing his attention away from Vera who had turned her face away. “But honestly, all you need to know is that this place will eat you alive if you aren’t careful.”

A fire ignited in Leon, his posture became more confident, soft edges of him giving way to purpose and motivation, Vera watched the change with interest. “Yeah… Well, I was supposed to start last week and I got a call to stay away.” He opened his arms wide. “I wish I’d come here sooner.”

“What difference would you have made?” Vera asked, some part of her was genuine. His words were full of bravado, another part of her resented the courageous intent she didn’t possess, attributing it to Leon saying that to look like a strong American man. “With you, or without you, this disease was bound to eat Raccoon alive.”

“I could have helped,” Leon shot back, sincerity clouding the slight anger. “One more person making it out — that’s the goal. I know I’m not going to magically solve the problem, but the smallest differences can mean the world for someone else.”

It was hard to breathe for a second. “That’s noble,” she breathed out. It was, no sarcasm there. “And very optimistic of you.”

“I think it’s realistic,” Leon trailed his fingers over his gun’s barrel, then slid it into its holster. “If you don’t try to save one life, you’ll never save any.” He looked at her then, eyes clear as the skies. “You might think of me as foolish but no matter the outcome, I would have chosen to come here willingly if I knew the situation from the start, even if it was certain I’d die. I don’t care about anything else.”

It was raw purity, unfiltered light, naivete cocooned in innocence of a good, honest heart, and Vera couldn’t look away from the beauty of it until it began to hurt her. Then it was sting of envy and agony of the obvious realization that she didn’t have it in her, even in the path of investigation she was always terrified of the outcome deep down, her hesitation and calculation made her move slow, think about every single step — and this new rookie had more guts in him than her struggling with this for three years now.

It wasn’t as if she went into investigating Umbrella with the conclusion of bringing them to justice: she wanted to shed light on the subject harvesting of the Raccoon City Orphanage, wanted to guarantee safely getting away from Umbrella when it was all said and done, wanted to protect what she had, wanted to defy fate and be more than their pawn. It was all about herself, self-centered, not selfless as Leon radiated like the sun, she didn’t even have the capacity. If there was an endgame, it was to ruin Irons, what came after that was never contemplated in her head because the more this case sucked her in, the more she became uncertain of seeing the end. Ben Bertolucci was meant to be an experiment to remedy that, and he was arrested almost immediately.

Vera was never the person who set out a clear end goal in mind — constantly dictated by instinct and emotion. Leon was. It was small, but it was his. To help whomever he could in an undead infested city. Respect bloomed inside her for him.

Vera’s lame response to him was, “Big words for a rookie.” She was softer on him though, body language accepting, no intent on being mean, and clearly more comfortable with Leon.

“Well I mean each and every one of them.”

“You’re here now, Leon. That’s all that matters,” Marvin interrupted, clearly not looking forward to a squabble he thought would start because of Vera’s argumentative nature. Jokes on him, she didn’t plan to start anything with Leon.

He stepped closer to them, stopping when he was just two steps away from the couch, uniform in place and all armored up, looking like he was about to go fist to fist with a riot. “Okay, Lieutenant, I’m ready.”

Vera reached for the Toughbook and placed it on her lap, tapping away on it while Marvin looked through Elliot's notebook..”Hopefully, you’ll be able to find a way out of this station. Vera here has discovered something peculiar that we didn’t take seriously before, but it’s our last resort.”

“This station used to be an art museum back in the day, all staff are required to know about it, so the computers come with a visual guide file of some sort — I know because I converted the whole thing to a pdf and sent it all to everyone. You would have discovered it eventually when you got your own PC, solitaire gets old real fast and everybody gets bored and snoops around just not to write reports, that’s how they discover this little thing, they tell me. I turned it to a Where’s Waldo game afterwards, it’s in a different folder for everyone, and—”

Marvin cut her off with an exasperated sigh, followed by a shudder. “Vera, I’m sure Leon doesn’t want to hear about any of this.”

“Oh yeah, shit, whoops, back to the point.” She automatically kept rambling because he did look interested and she’d taken his silence as indulgence. Totally not what he wanted to know. “Something about the layout of this place bothered me because the older maps of this place indicate there is an office directly underneath this statue. It was changed after Irons took the office apparently, so it got me thinking, but I couldn’t prove it since they were disposed of. I've only seen copies of it on the net-available database — which, unfortunately, can’t be accessed right now since all communications are down.”

Leon nodded and made a small affirmative sound for Vera to keep going. “So, voila, I finally found this little clue here,” She explained, and gestured to Leon to come closer, pointing at the screen. He reluctantly leaned towards her, but didn’t disturb her personal space. On the screen was an old article dating back at least thirty years about the historical significance of the same goddess statue in the hall, but something looked different about it. “You see how this space is open in the photograph?”

She looked up at him for confirmation and he nodded with the same energy. “Yeah, it goes underground.”

“This is our way out.”

“How do we open it?”

“It's a secret passageway, we discovered it requires three medallions to be opened — basically locked by a puzzle. There are three other statues around the station which have the medallions we need, but —”

“Let me guess,” Leon smiled, “Also locked with puzzles?”

Well, mark Vera entertained. “Aren’t you a fast learner?” It faded away soon enough, though, her own smile slowly dropping. “Elliot had accepted to figure them out for me, at the time I was busy trying to restore comms, we thought it was best to keep trying for multiple solutions so it’d raise the odds.”

At the mention of Elliot, Leon blinked rapidly as if seeing something else, and stepped away from the Toughbook, stiffening. Vera looked away as well, she had only heard his death while Leon had to live with not being able to save his fellow officer, she didn’t want to make him go through it again.

“This is good news,” Leon said, recovering quickly, he cleared his throat. “We can get Lieutenant to a hospital.”

“No, no,” Marvin quickly responded, scarily swift and determined in his rejection. “I am not the priority here.”

Vera set the Toughbook aside, placing it on the crate carefully with trembling fingers. “What do you mean? Yes you are. You are my priority.”

“And my priority is you getting out of here,” he hissed back, clutching the wound over the slightly soaked bandages.

“And I will,” Vera’s voice cracked. “We will. Together.”

“Honey I’d come with you, but I’d just slow you down… I can’t have you and Leon in danger because of me.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out, there has to be a way.” Vera sought Leon’s support, wordlessly begging for him to agree with her. “Right?”

And Leon came through. “Yeah, Lieutenant, I’ll go ahead first, clear the road for you.”

Marvin grimaced. “Clear the road, my ass, what road?”

“Look, Lieutenant, either way, I’m not just gonna leave you here —”

“Hold it right there,” Marvin raised a bloody hand, fingers curled in with fatigue. “You don’t stay alive with ifs or hypothetical hope or half-assed plans, you hear me?”

“Marvin—”

He shut Vera up with no regard. “I’m talking to my officer right now.” It took every drop of energy in him to sound as snippy, that much was visible, and the sole reason why Vera didn’t push it — Marvin needed his rest, forcing out draining emotions didn’t help that. She would bite her tongue. “You’re going to get my daughter out of here.”

Her nails created a row of crescent marks on her crossed arms. She would bite her tongue.

“Sir—“

“This is your first and last order, rookie. You save her first, and yourself second.”

Leon sucked a sharp breath in, glancing anguished between Vera and Marvin, he was torn and obviously didn’t know how to respond to that.

“This is bullshit,” Vera mumbled under her breath, chewing her bottom lip. Enough was enough. “You know what? I don’t work for you. I don’t care what your orders are. Fuck that sacrificial nonsense.” Marvin was about to tell her off for that, but she didn’t give him the opportunity to. “I’ll drag you out of here by your feet if I have to. I don’t care. What are you gonna do, lay down on the floor like a child?”

“I would give you one hell of an earful for running your mouth like that in front of me had Leon not been here, how’s that for a start?”

“Yeah, well, you have to stay alive for that. Something to look forward to for you, I guess? Been a while since you chased me down with a newspaper.”

Marvin was back at the good old days of a small, devil in his ass Vera screaming bloody murder as she ran away from him after causing his gun to go off in her hand while trying to explain that she only meant to take it apart to clean it and improve it just like she saw Kendo do it once. He was some place far away, fond and lonely when he tried to be stern. “I can barely take a couple steps, and you expect me to cross the city with you?”

Vera’s leg began shaking in an attempt to keep herself from bursting into tears. “I’ll load you to the wheelbarrow — I’ll go get a car, I’ll do something. You’re my dad, I can’t leave you here, don’t ask me to do that, please. I can’t, I won’t.”

Vera didn’t call Marvin father, never, ever, even with all those years after he adopted her, she shared more of an uncle-niece bond with him, the word ‘dad’ out of her mouth made him screw his eyes shut and breathe raggedly. “My only wish now is for you to be safe,” Marvin took her hands in his own shaky, cold ones, and Vera lowered her head to hide her twisting face and watery eyes. An injured man was consoling her when it should have been the other way around. How much more pathetic was she going to get? “And I know you can’t be safe as long as you keep clinging to me.”

The child in her took the microphone. “I don’t want safe, I want to be with you.”

You can’t leave, you can’t leave me.

There was no point in anything without him.

“Don’t say that honey. I need to know you’ll be able to survive on your own—”

Vera wrenched her hands away from him and shot forward, bumping into Leon roughly as she staggered away from them and from this conversation, he tried to stop her from falling by catching her arms but she shook him off, heels of her hands pressing on her eyes like she wanted to crush the tears into nonexistence. Quivering breaths rattled her ribcage and she trekked forward, only to stop and announce, “I’m on the lion medallion,” before walking off.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Lt. Branagh wheezed as Leon frowned after the girl, restlessness making him flex his fingers that she was going upstairs on her own. She wasn’t quite right in the head at the moment, this was far from safe, but the sympathetic side of him acknowledged she needed her space right now even though he wanted to go after her — the solution to stay a good distance away formed in his brain, after all, he just needed Vera in his peripheral vision to look out for her. Marvin pointed to his own shoulder vaguely, meaning how Leon was pushed away by her. “Don’t hold it against her.”

Leon glanced upstairs again. “You’re a good father, sir. She’s only focused on her own pain, but she’ll see that you’re only trying to look out for her once she calms down.” He gathered his determination. He respected authority and he respected his duties more, it was unheard of to leave a superior and a living being behind in this situation — Leon couldn’t swallow it down that he was ordered to leave a suffering man to die. The leaden weight on his throat obstructed his lungs. “That said, . I’m afraid I have to agree with her.”

“You are doing no such thing.”

“I understand what you said before, we’ll sit down and come up with a proper plan—”

“You have your orders, rookie!” Lt. Branagh basically howled and Leon had to yield to that, not having it in him to stand by what his heart told him to do. “You protect yourself and you protect my daughter. She’ll get killed at this rate because she’ll let herself, do you understand what I’m saying now?” There was something in his face that Leon wanted so desperately to obey to soothe, just go with what he was saying just so Lt. Branagh would have some peace at the moment, so he nodded.

Leon pursed his lips in silence, limbs heavy all of a sudden. “I’ll come back to take you to a hospital once we’re out.” It was his first instinct and wishful thinking to suggest a hospital, but logic and reason and what he learned in the academy told him that in a city-wide pandemic such as this, the hospitals would be the fortresses to go down first.

It must have reflected in his face because Lt. Branagh smiled bitterly. “You know there is no hospital.” He gingerly put an ashen hand over his tightly bandaged wound. “It’s too late for me, Leon.”

He couldn’t accept that. Vera’s crumbled figure was a shadow in the back of his mind. “Lieutenant—”

“Enough. Your report said you were quick to adapt and loyal to given orders, and that’s what I need right now. Not an inexperienced boy weak to his emotions, but a police officer.” Marvin coughed and it unmistakably hurt him to do so and he caught Leon looking in a way he didn’t like. “Do not pity me for one second. The dead are lost and what matters is guiding the remaining few.” Even though he had said he needed a police officer, Leon saw a terrified father in front of him, it was a direct punch to the gut. “I’m gone, Leon, I can’t have my daughter follow me too. She doesn’t deserve to die like this.”

Leon’s stomach churned. “You don’t deserve to die like this, let me help, Lieutenant. You can depend on me.”

“Defy me one more time and see what happens.”

Even Lt. Branagh himself knew there would be no repercussions, it was all a front, he was depending entirely on Leon’s respect of boundaries and inability to go against him, also knew that Leon was aware of this. It was the goddamn zombie apocalypse, but Leon still couldn’t put his foot down to save his own life, too timid and shy to convince the man that he could trust in him and he was, in fact, very capable. If there was another, more rugged veteran of this field in Leon’s place right now, would he have accepted to be escorted to safety?

While he was lost in his head, lamenting how unreliable he looked and what he could to remedy that, Lt. Branagh had forced himself to stand up, extending Leon something in his hand. “Now… you’ll need this.”

It was a combat knife, with its sheath and everything. It had to belong to the man. Leon had his trusty Matilda already, he couldn’t take away something that would keep the lieutenant safe in the long run. It was like stripping him of his last defense. “I can’t take—”

“Stop,” he grunted. “And don’t make my mistake. If you see one of those things—uniform or not—you do not hesitate. You take it out… or you run. Got it?”

Leon numbly shook his head affirmatively, eyebrows furrowed upwards ever so slightly. “Yes, sir…”

“Now go find her, she’ll be very helpful to you.” He sat back down, unable to stop his body from tensing in pain upon the movement. His bandages were getting redder as the minutes passed, but he wasn’t bleeding heavily, Leon thought it was a good sign that clots had begun forming, it meant that the wound looked worse than it actually was. Reassurance began to sparkle in him that it was the pain that held the lieutenant back, injuries on the stomach area hurt the worst, after all. There was hope yet, he would figure something out. “You two have to trust each other to get through this together.” He leaned his head back to the edge of the back of the couch and threw his forearm over his eyes like the light was hurting him physically. “Leave me to rest.”

Leon didn’t want to, but did just that, stuffing Officer Elliot’s notebook in his back pocket and jogging up the left stairs of this gargantuan place that reminded him of a mansion more than a museum or a police station. The wood was glossy in the main hall, and a healthy reddish brown, the steps were in top notch condition as well, he had spotted balconies to the side where he planned to check, and as he reached the top, he noticed doors lining up in both sides, but they had to be locked if no zombie had breached them yet. He made a mental note to check them first thing after getting to Vera.

The girl in question was crouching in front of the lion statue, feet flat on the floor, not working on solving the puzzle on it at all. From what he could see, the medallion thing was still in its place and Vera’s head was buried in the little cavity her arms had created by wrapping around her knees. Leon let out a small sigh, heart swelling up in desire to console her somehow, he didn’t exactly know what to do, though, they had just met, he barely knew her, it was his own flaw that he couldn’t handle the suffering of even strangers.

“Hey,” he called, but the girl jumped out of her skin and yelped at that, falling on her side and causing him to jerk back, surprised by her outburst.

“Oh my fuck— don’t do that!” Her hand went to where her heart was supposed to be. “I almost had a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” he said, apologetic, but unable to suppress a smile. He extended his open palm to her to help her stand up, and she reluctantly took the offer, allowing him to pull her up.

This was interesting to him the first time, and it was just as compelling now, Vera’s hand was rough but had the elongated elegant form of a musician, he’d felt it even from the loose fishnet glove covering the skin, she definitely had a job involving something related to crafting and liked a subgenre of metal or rock music the way she dressed — even played the guitar too considering the callus on her fingertips. Regarding the rest, he couldn’t exactly take his time touching the locations of the other callus to determine just what and it was highly inappropriate, but it intrigued him because of her image — she liked pink, a more feminine and vulnerable color, but she also liked black, suggesting some mystery.

Leon was particularly drawn in by mysteries, he had fun in figuring people out the most.

Claire Redfield, for example, whom he’d met on his way to the city had to be a biker, possessed the jacket for one, and she was too soaked to be traveling by car and only being exposed to the rain after getting out of a vehicle. She had a tomboyish aura to her and possessed an SLS 60, a small revolver which could indicate that she was too young and was given one for the sake of self-defense only, it didn’t seem to him that it would be her first choice in handguns. Having a cop for a brother also must have toughened her up and Leon was a 100% sure Claire was taught by him (and that gun was probably something he’d given her); he was certain she could take care of herself even from the little he’d seen of her. Leon knew she’d make it to RPD eventually.

Vera here was a bit too emotionally volatile at the moment for him to do any definitive and conclusive deduction, but he had witnessed first hand that she used humor to distract herself. The hypothesis was that it was the best way to communicate with her, and he figured it could work when she was down as well. No harm in trying, right? Leon had to help her get it together somehow.

He took out the small notebook from his pocket and waved it towards her in a friendly manner. “Looking for this?”

Vera stared at the notebook first, and then at him, face judgmental in the most mocking way possible. “Did you just take that out of your ass?”

A-ha, Leon thought. So it’s humor. Figures. Of course she wouldn’t want to think about her suffering father right now. “My trousers have back pockets.”

“I’m not touching something that was a layer away from your smelly, crusty asscrack.”

Okay. “You’re treating this as if I carried it between my buttcheeks the whole time.” Leon chuckled, flipping the pages until he ended up finding the scribbles for the lion statue. The outrageous image of a man ripped in half flooded his mind and his thumb’s nail scraped against the paper, creating a thin white line over the bloodied fingerprint left by Lt. Branagh. He could use Vera’s distraction as well, she clearly knew something he didn’t in coping with this. “It’s not a practical way of transportation.” He glanced at the puzzle. “The first image is a lion.”

“Maybe if you ever ran out of inventory, it could be useful,” Vera said, moving to spin the lock to look for the lion one. “Would reek, though.”

Leon was flabbergasted as to what they were suddenly discussing. “I’m not gonna shove bullets up my ass. That is so impractical.” That sounded obvious and bizarre at the same time, he couldn’t actually believe it was something he had to say out loud. But was he having fun? Weirdly so. It came out of nowhere, that was for sure.

“That is so impractical,” Vera repeated him, voice low all of a sudden, a bobble to her head. “Female spies carry so much in their vagina, get with the times. Men, I swear.”

Female spies carry what where now? “I don’t sound like that.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

Leon laughed but it was involuntary.

“You’re right about something though,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, finally finding the lion. “Shoving bullets up your ass would be so impractical it’d kill you.”

“Why are we talking about my ass, what is this discussion?”

Vera shrugged, faking guilt on her face. “I don’t know, you started it.” So the blame was on him now. “We just met. That is so rude of you.”

Leon felt the heat spread all the way to the tip of his ears. Embarrassment rippled through him in waves, and he sought to change the topic. He had to change it right now. “The next one is a twig.”

Vera made it plain and apparent that she enjoyed his bashfulness, he’d give that to her just this once. It didn’t feel that great to be made fun of and he wanted to vehemently deny it wasn’t his intention to get gross with a person he just met — a girl, nonetheless, he wasn’t a guy like that, he sweared —, but if it made her feel a bit better, then he could just roll with it.

“There is no twig here,” Vera said, genuinely questioning. “You mean like dude, right? There is a lady?”

Oh god, no wonder she looked strange when he said the word, almost as if shocked he’d say that kind of thing so seriously. Leon snorted, biting inside his cheek so hard to not offend her, he really couldn’t stop that one. “Twig. Not twink.”

Vera froze. A couple seconds filled the silence. Leon had to physically try to fight the spasms of his diaphragm to not betray him. She raised one arm to him, pointer finger up. “Not a word.”

“I haven’t said anything.” Good. He didn’t crack.

“Your face is saying things.”

“This is how I usually look.”

“Like a twink, yeah.”

“You’re not winning this one,” he teased, good-natured in it, of course.

“I’ll get you eventually.” Vera turned away, huddling over the puzzle again, begrudgingly mumbling incoherent things that he caught, “Gonna twig these hands,” from. He had to take a few steps back and do a half-spin to not burst into laughter, Vera couldn’t see Leon do literal spins of struggle because her back was to him. They were in the middle of the literal zombie apocalypse, he’d witnessed tragedy left and right and still couldn’t recover, and this girl made him laugh. Actually laugh. What was wrong with him? Had his brain been fried that badly? He didn’t want to laugh, he really didn’t, there was nothing funny about the situation they were in, but he couldn’t help himself. It just bubbled up on its own and he felt terrible about it.

Eventually she spoke to him again, confused. “You sure you saw it correctly? No twig here either.” She had purposely emphasized the word.

“That can’t be.” Leon squinted to see the little doodle a bit better. Something made Vera chuckle a bit and it took that for him to realize he’d been making a face. Yet another minus point for charisma. “Yeah, it’s a twig.”

“Let me take a look.” Vera pinched the corner of the notebook and tilted it towards her, it didn’t escape Leon that she took great care in not touching him. Then, she slowly raised her head at him, there wasn’t much of a height difference between them, so her breath directly hit his face, and the smell of something fresh and spicy made him blink rapidly. That wasn’t gum. “Leon, that’s a branch.”

He recovered fast from the nice fragrance, and dumbly said, “Huh?”

“How do you mix a twig and a branch?” She returned back to the puzzle, flipping to the branch she was talking about.

“Does it make that much of a difference?”

“Twigs wouldn’t have leaves.”

“Oh, okay.” Leon said. It still didn’t make a difference to him, but that was fine. He was embarrassed again, but at least he had learned something new. “Alright, eagle next.”

She put the final symbol in, and the statue pushed the medallion forward from a latch that opened with an irritating, grating sound. “You’re not gonna fight me on that? Come on, where’s the spirit?” Vera let the bronze object fall to her hand, and almost dropped it in the process. “Damn, that’s heavy.”

“Well, if it’s a branch, it’s a branch.”

“Come on, fight me. Argue back, be a twig supremacist. You can’t be all sweet, all golden. Everybody has flaws.”

All sweet, all golden? Accomplishment and pride warmed Leon’s chest, they were jokes but if he was teased about it like this, there was some truth to the words Vera meant specifically. She thought good of him. “Thank you for the compliments.”

“I wasn’t complimenting.”

“If you say so,” Leon agreed as they descended the stairs.

“I’m calling you a goody two-shoes and a pushover.” Vera was trying to come off more persuasive in being received as an insulting individual. “Who can’t stand by his choices and defend them, by the way. That twig didn’t deserve to be abandoned like that.”

Leon stopped dead in his tracks, the stupid twig now a metaphor in his head for the lieutenant.

Vera also stopped, a couple steps above him, uneasy, tips of her nails scratching at the edges of the bronze medallion. “Hey, I’m just—“

“I know,” Leon said. “But you’re right.”

“I am?”

This girl didn’t need to be reminded of her father or have another aggravating discussion about the correct way to handle his condition. Leon would keep it lighthearted with Vera, do his best to keep her afloat and not at the bottom of her own sea of misery. Leon’s battle with Lt. Branagh was his own — yes, she was brutal about it in a way he didn’t expect being thrown his way, but Leon was really unable to disobey his superior even concerning his well-being when he should have taken the initiative. He had backed down so quickly, afraid of how he would be received, his nature was to aspire to do what the man wanted just for that immediate feeling of acceptance.

“Don't worry, I have no intentions of letting the twig down,” Leon said, melancholic, but giving her a smile anyways, and kept going down the stairs.

For a while, Vera didn’t follow him down, standing still like a ghost.

tags: @lottathoughts , @ocappreciationtag !!

#leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy x oc #leon s. kennedy x oc #resident evil oc #oc: vera kaplan #story: gravedigger #era: no time to die #resident evil fanfiction #ocappreciation #shai's writings

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vikingsong · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday (8/16/23)

In which spy!Merlin attempts break the Crown Prince out of an interrogation room after accidentally kidnapping said Prince and dumping him, unconscious, in said interrogation room to begin with.

Shifting aside one of the lay-in ceiling panels, Merlin gripped the edges of the frame and flipped down into the room, landing on his feet, silent and catlike.

The Prince jerked back from the table. “Who are you?”

“I’m the one who’s going to get you out of here.”

“And where is here, exactly?” the Prince asked, folding his arms and glancing surreptitiously between the locked door and the open ceiling panel.

Merlin chose his words carefully, admitting to nothing as he trod the line between honesty and insinuation. “I think you already know. You saw some of their handiwork earlier this evening.”

Arthur nodded, just once, and leveled his gaze on Merlin. “That still doesn’t answer my first question. Who are you? More importantly, why should I trust you?”

Impulsively, Merlin threw back the cowl.

“You!” the Prince blurted, taking a step back. “But you did—! Earlier, I thought I saw…” The Prince made several nonsensical hand gestures, and Merlin soon tired of watching him flail.

“No, you weren’t hallucinating.” Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I have magic—and, yes, magic is real…but I think you figured that part out already, what with the fireballs they were hurling at you.”

The Prince crossed his arms and raised an imperious eyebrow. “Those were rather hard to miss.”

“Rather.” Merlin cleared his throat pointedly and waved a hand at the ceiling. “We need to go.”

“But you have magic.”

“I thought we’d already established that.”

“You could be working with them.”

“I know you don’t trust me, alright?” Merlin grit out between clenched teeth. “But if you want to get out of here alive, you’re going to have to trust me for the next twenty-two minutes.”

“Twenty-two?”

“Twenty-two.”

“That’s oddly precise.”

“It took me sixteen to get in here; getting out will take quite a bit longer with you in tow.”

“I beg your pardon,” the Prince sniffed.

“Then beg.” He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at the Prince’s shell-shocked stare. Merlin knew if Lance had heard that retort, he’d groan and tell Merlin to ‘touch grass,’ so Merlin simply wouldn’t tell him. Leaping up onto the table, Merlin grasped the edges of the metal ceiling grid on either side of the displaced tile and swung himself up through the gap.

“...You can’t speak to me like that,” the Prince sputtered belatedly.

Merlin stuck his head back through the ceiling to glare at the Prince upside down. “Well, I did. Are you coming or not, your Royal Pratness?”

“Fine,” the Prince snapped. He shrugged off his suit jacket—a jacket that Merlin knew cost more than Merlin’s rather generous salary—and tossed it carelessly over the hard metal chair before pocketing his patriotic cufflinks and rolling up his shirtsleeves. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered as he climbed onto the table and hoisted himself through the ceiling gap after Merlin.

Merlin hid a sigh of relief as he slid the tile back into place and led the way into the ventilation shaft. His entire plan hinged on convincing the Prince to trust him, albeit grudgingly. He’d made it past that first hurdle; the rest of the plan should be just fine.

***

It was not fine, Merlin soon discovered. He’d pulled up the front of his dark cowl to cover his nose and mouth, held in place by a handy sticking-spell, as soon as he’d re-entered the air shaft because the Shadow Division desperately needed to have their ducts cleaned. The Prince had no such luxury. He also had a dust allergy.

“Brilliant,” Merlin muttered under his breath as the Prince sneezed for the fourth time in barely thirty seconds. The sound rebounded off the metal, multiplying the echoes through the ventilation system. Merlin glanced back over his shoulder and hissed, “Are you trying to get us caught?”

#wip wednesday #spy au #Arthur is NOT having a good day #Merlin’s day isn’t going much better tbh #it’s not a good day at the office when one accidentally kidnaps the Crown Prince #Fic: Agent Emrys #wip excerpt #shameless self promotion #humor #my stories #writing #bbc merlin #fanfic #writers on tumblr #wip

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thatweirdsideblog · 5 years

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Scenario/Story

(Bare with me cuz i know this is long af, i just have a really tough time writing things out in story format due to some past stuff so just let your imaginations run with this however you like!)

Imagine ragweed nymph/dryad

They've just made a new friend by finding a common interest. While usually a bit reserved with strangers, they've grown comfortable enough with the way the conversation has progressed that they've allowed themself to loosen up a bit and show their excitement at meeting a human who has this same interest as they do.

The thing is, this dryad resides over a ragweed field. Since dryad forms resemble their home, this dryad produces pollen during the late summer/early fall. Their pollen so small and so lightweight, that any sudden movement on the dryad's part is bound to send some of it into the air, not to mention any gust of wind will carry their pollen for miles.

Needless to say, their animated gestures are shaking that pollen loose in clouds. the

Yet, not being used to spending longer periods of time outside of nature/in the company of non-nymph individuals, our pollen proprietor, engrossed in the conversation, doesn't really notice the immediate effects of their actions.

The human, on the other hand, definitely does notice. They also notice how itchy their eyes have gotten and how their nose has begun to run.

Yes, they could say something to alert the dryad to this small (yet increasingly evident) issue, but they don't want to disrupt what they got going on here. They've never had such an engaging exchange with this individual before, and theyre really cute it's nice to see them so passionate about something.

The last thing the human wants to do is rain on their parade. So they try their best to keep their hands away from their face and focus instead on keeping the cute dryad talking- hopefully they won't notice the increasing intervals between the human's sniffling and throat clearing.

Now this human's will may be strong, but their allergies are stronger. Eventually the tickle becomes too much, and they sneeze. A polite "bless you!" from the dryad, a customary "thank you" from the human. The discussion continues with minimal interruption.

Seeing that will alone won't stop the escalation of what now looks to be a promising allergy attack, the human switches gears, vigorously scrubbing at their nose. They pray that this will abate the relentless tickle in their nose. They don't really know what the dryad's reaction to more outbursts might be. A lot of beings aren't used to some of the bodily mechanics/functions of humans. Do dryads even sneeze? The human's stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of possibly grossing out this prospective new friend. Maybe they can avoid sneezing any more if-

And then they sneeze again.

And then twice more.

The dryad offers a third, now slightly hesitant "bless you..." They pause, uncertain whether they're supposed to address this any further. It doesn't seem right. Humans don't usually sneeze this much, do they?

The human just waves off the blessing, dismissing any implied concern for their health. They ask the dryad a question pertaining to the dryad's statement prior to the interruption, which prompt the dryad back into their speculative discussion.

The human manages to discreetly stifle a few intermittent sneezes without calling attention to themself, but that just makes them so stuffed up that they have to resort to breathing through their mouth. The deep itch in their sinuses is persisting with a vengeance. If anything, stifling has made it even more intense. The human has tried everything in their power but they wont be able to-

Abandoning all attempts to holdback/stifle, the human just barely has time to bring their hands over their mouth as they fold in on themselves with the force of the expulsion. The dryad starts to bless them, but the human shakes their head, not even bothering to remove their steepled hands as they gear up for another wrenching sneeze. And another. And another...

The dryad, startled by this sudden barrage of sneezes, scrambles to pull a square of cloth they have saved for first aid from within one of their several pockets. Mimicking what they've seen other humans do, they offer the cloth to the human.

The human blindly reaches for the cloth with one hand, the other still covering their nose and mouth, grabbing it just in time to pitch forward with two more sneezes.

They blow their nose and wipe the allergic tears from their eyes (both of which they've desperately seeking to do this entire time) and then sneeze one more time into the cloth.

This entire time, the dryad is standing stock-still, genuinely afraid of what's happening to their acquaintance.

"This- this doesn't seem normal! We need to get you to a healer immediately!" They say with a shaky yet determined voice.

Sheepishly, the human just gives a small laugh in response and shakes their head. "No ah...i just simply forgot my allergy potion today. I didn't think I'd need it today, see? For the pollen..."

The dryad's eyes widen slowly as they take an involuntary step back, holding up their hands close to their chest. "The... oh..." They look down guiltily at their feet, blushing a dark green all the way to the tips of their ears. "my pollen..." they add quietly.

"No please don't think it's your fault, we didn't even know we'd meet each other today!" The human sniffs and massages their red nostrils with the cloth as they hold their other palm up in a placating manner. "Besides, if anyone is at fault here it's me! I should know to keep a spare potion on me just i-hh..." they take a shaky breath, looking off to the side with an unfocused gaze "hh-hiEtSHUUh!"

Holding up a finger to indicate theyre not done.

"H...HnNKT-"

Pinching off the second sneeze with the cloth, they shake their head and give another congested sniff, frowning slightly. "What was i... oh yeah! Please don't think this-" They gesture to their face. "-is because of you!"

The dryad purses their lips, grip on their hands tightening in front of their chest. "I just- you should've told me i was waving my arms around too much or... or that you couldn't be around pollen. I didn't know i would make you sick..."

The human laughs incredulously. "You didn't! I'm not sick, just a little sneezy. My body just doesn't really...take to pollen very well." They step forward and put their hands around the dryad's. "And that's nobody's fault, okay?" Their expression softens as their eyes meet the dryad's and hold their gaze. The human pointedly raises their eyebrows. "Okay? I'm glad I got to meet up with you today. I like how passionate you are, and I want to hear you talk more about this, yeah?"

Some of the tension eases from the dryad's shoulders and they nod. "I like speaking with you too..."

The human wrinkles their nose and smiles, about to respond, when their breath suddenly snags in their throat and a flash of alarm flits across their face. Without a second to spare, they only just manage to turn aside, bent double by 3 successive, barely covered sneezes, their hand, which did not make it up to their face in time, clutching the cloth.

A bit winded/dazed by the force of the harsh sneezes, the human straightens up, scrubbing their nose with the back of their wrist, fingers still curled around the cloth, as if in the heat of the moments its utility was temporarily forgotten.

"Whew!" The human chuckles, swiping the cloth under their nose again. They pinch the bridge of their nose, massaging it lightly up and down. "Sorry 'bout that-"

A shadow of that frown still lingers in the dryad's expression as they interject. "I think... i should probably go for today," they say, clearly still a bit troubled by the human's adverse reaction to their presence.

The human's eyes widen. "Wait no! You said you traveled so far to get here, and we haven't even seen the town yet."

"But I'm making you like this... it doesn't seem comfortable, even if you say you are not sick."

The human sniffs, then sneezes once into the crook of their arm , as if pointedly. "Well you're right, it's not. But all I'll need is one potion from one apothecary, and I'll be fit as a fiddle~"

"What's a fiddle?"

"Come to the town with me and I'll show you."

The dryad shifts from one foot to the other, considering.

"Fine. But apothecary first"

"Deal." Then, after a moment, "I'll need to reimburse you for that handkerchief though. You can pick out the pattern."

The dryad blushes, this time for a different reason. "I like floral..."

The human just chuckles and claps the dryad lightly on the back, before realising their mistake, breath hitching, as they pull out their 'handkerchief' and sneeze into it two more times. After a hasty recovery they simply nudge the dryad good-naturedly and nod their head towards the road into town.

"We should get going, I'll stay upwind."

#this is literally a full story i just #hate trying to write things in book format right off the bat cuz its a huge trigger for my anxiety #still i really do hope you guys like it!#i even threw in some sneeze spellings #its only 2 but hey at least i tried!#im pretty proud of myself for breaking through what was essentially a 1.5 year writers block tho ngl #either way yeah these arent ocs (yet) but ive kinda had the idea half brewed for a while #anywho uhhhh yeah so imma just #my writing #mine #yeehaw i guess?

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holdinbacksecrets · 2 years

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hi i have a request maybe svt + taking care of sick s/o ( any member you want I honestly love reading your work so I’m just here with random requests:] )

hi! thank you for the request. i’m so soft for seventeen these days😭 i hope you enjoy these 🤍 (all 13 members for you, nonnie!)

seungcheol: he showed up in the middle of the night after you texted him bc your ringer is different from everyone else’s and set at a louder volume: “i didn’t mean right now.” “you sent me a list of all your symptoms and expected me to stay home?” brought throat coat and the cardigan you always steal from his closet. ignores your protests and gets into bed with you, coaxing you to his chest. you’re absolutely freezing, teeth chattering, and he rubs your back until the two of you fall asleep. stays the next day for as long as he can, and texts periodically for updates. will ask what you’d like him to bring over that evening

jeonghan: draws you a bath and hangs out in the bathroom, watching you relax. helps you wash your face when you start to get tired. warms a towel in the dryer to wrap you up in once the water has cooled, and you’re ready for a nap. dotes. all the doting. is proud of himself for finding a sweatshirt with his face on it for you to wear. goes to the grocery store while you rest

joshua: his boyfriend energy was made for this. his presence alone could heal, but he takes it to the next level with his dedication and the love radiating through every caring action. makes your balcony super cozy with fairy lights and soft blankets so you can breathe the fresh air and have a break from your stuffy bedroom. is the first person in your life to ever apply Vicks on your chest. carries you to the bathroom after you had a fainting spell and is terrified to leave you alone after that. literally won’t leave until your friend arrives, taking over during his schedule. worries about you the entire time he’s away. has to be calmed down by his members

jun: cooks the tastiest, most comforting bowl of rice porridge you’ve ever had. that alone is enough for you, but he brought over some fun card games if you feel up to playing. talks to you until you fall asleep with your head in his lap. moves so carefully when he has to leave for a schedule, not wanting to disturb you. you hadn’t slept the night before, and he was waiting for you to finally drift away. looks at you adoringly before sneaking out

soonyoung: lasts about an hour or two before he’s sneezing too… but when he stays in good health, expect him to stick to you like velcro. if he’s out of the country, so many facetime calls. convinces a staff member to facetime with you and show rehearsals. orders food to your apartment and reminds you to drink water. texts throughout the day for temperature checks. is amazing at being present despite the distance and making you feel lovedlovedloved

wonwoo: probably moves in with you for a week and reads in the other room once he’s off work for the night until you come in, with a blanket cape and a searing headache. takes a break for cuddles

jihoon: he feels bad for being so busy and afraid of getting sick, but still takes it upon himself to put together a little tote bag like a sick partner starter pack but better. soonyoung threw in a tiny tiger plushy much to his dismay, but he knows it’ll make you smile, so it’s left untouched. let’s himself in at the crack of dawn to drop it off. writes a sweet note and leaves it on the counter

seokmin: he hates that you’re sick but loves being able to take care of you. is very maternal in his ways. probably has a reminder set for your medicine and gets you up and moving every few hours. has a party in the kitchen making soup. might sing a little too loudly before remembering you still have a slight headache. his kisses nearly make everything better

mingyu: there’s nothing cute about being stuck in the bathroom, throwing up, and only finding bouts of relief when you rest your cheek on the cool tile. but he’s not grossed out or worried about getting sick. probably brings a book into the bathroom and reads to you or sets up a drama on his laptop. always keeps your hair out of the toilet bowl

minghao: takes you to the doctor’s office and the pharmacy afterwards. imagine him watching you at every stop light and continuously checking in throughout the car ride: “are you comfortable? i can adjust the seat for you. is it too hot? are you cold again? i have a jacket in the ba-”. “watch the road, hao. i’m comfy.” reminds you to move slowly, and holds your waist while you walk together. offers quiet encouragement and temple kisses. you’re a champ

seungkwan: he’ll pamper the hell out of you. brings extra pillows to the couch if that’ll make you more comfortable. bought a lavender and chamomile scented candle bc it’s a relaxing combination. does your laundry and loads the dishwasher. hangs out in the living room with you, but wears a mask bc he cannot afford to get sick “i’ll love you from the other side of the couch, sweetheart”

hansol: definitely brings you soup from his favorite hole-in-the-wall place and a new box of kleenex that are supposed to be the softest ones. you probably fall asleep with your head on his chest. empty bowl on the coffee table

chan: calls his mom and asks her so many questions. writes down her golden advice on the back of a random receipt in your kitchen. “i’ve got this. your recovery is safe in my hands.” his confidence is endearing, and you’re just happy to have him around. watching him revisit the receipt throughout the day, repeating her words to himself as he prepares a remedy or meal, is adorable and makes your heart swell

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twistedoverbloat · 2 years

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How about a Yuu that has the same power as Hilise Ioanda (I Hope I spelled that correctly) from untouchable lady?

OOOOO I READ THIS BEFORE!! (I am all caught up and honestly I feel bad for her bc of her asshole of a brother.)

Edit: ok so like I read this as a oh how would they response but I will try and make a one shot of (had to look this up) Hillis Inoadenn her name you were close!

Heartslabyul

Riddle: let's just say Riddle loves it! It can help make the white roses and red roses for the unbirthday tea parties! (Saves Cater a LOT of time) he loves the different types of flowers they can make!

Trey: Is happy one thing on the list can be perfectly taken care of and Riddle not to worry about. Loves the flowers he likes to make flower crowns (I bet he has a younger sister) he made them with his younger siblings on break when they get bored and run into a flower field.

Cater: L O V E S THE FLOWERS! He takes so Many Magicam pictures with with its crazy he even got multiple pictures of Yuu being beautiful with them! Also Glas one thing on the lost of things he does for the Unbirthday is taken off of his list! He even got Yuu a modeling gig since they looked amazing with all the flora they made!

Ace: At first made fun of it saying they were weak but then Yuu kicked his ass never moving from the one spot even drinker a cup of tea while doing it. He respects it now since he got a asswhooping from it. But he's glad he dosen't get roped into painting the flowers anymore for Cater!

Deuce: Hes always worried he'll crush them! But luckily Yuu shows him how to hold a flower gently and how to take care of one! He asked them before goign home one tiem to make a beautiful forget me nots bouquet for his mother! She loved them!

Savanaclaw

Leona: dosen't really care as long as you font get them on him while he's sleeping he hates some flowers because of the pollen that gets into his nose and makes him sneeze himself awake.

Ruggie: likes them but isn't really his cup of tea since he dosen't really know how to take care of them. Another one of the boys to get a bouquet of flowers for someone mostly his grandma that raised him and the others.

Jack: He's the one Yuu asks if they can grow Cactus they say yes and he asked for some since he has a couple but not a lot. They make him some and even one with a flower! He's very happy his tail even wagged a lot. Yuu puts flower crown on him.

Octavinelle

Azul: Hes thinking of different ways of making money off of this. He asks Yuu to decorate Mostro Lounge for special occasions to get the students eyes. He likes them He loves the pretty Lilacs they make. His favorite flower is Wisteria flowers! He has a could hanging around his office to give him a distraction from contracts and scheming to have a clear mind! Another person Yuu makes flower crowns. The flowers are Enchanted to never wilt.

Jade: A tough person to crack but he likes when Yuu does the poisonous flowers along with Vil. He tries to get them to see if they could make mushrooms and if so what kind. Was sad when Yuu couldn't but he was surprised with deadly flowers from them! He likes the flowers they calm him like the mushrooms.

Floyd: He is rolling in a flower bed as we speak. He gives me the type that loves throwing flowers at people he considers friends. He threw a bunch at everyone and even tried failed to make flower crown and got into a mood but Yuu showed him pretty flowers that can also kill. He likes those and keeps a couple in his and Jade's room.

Scarabia

Kalim: He loves them! He asks Yuu if they could make flowers for decoration for his Feasts they agreed and showed all of Scarabia how powerful they are. Jamil was thankful because it gave him more time to prepare the food since Kalim sprung it on to him. He asks for different flowers from home to be made into a flower crown Yuu does and he helps them make a bunch more!

Jamil: At first didn't care because taking care of Kalim. But when we went against Jamil in his overbloat we beat his ass with flower power and he saw we're not weak we are as dangerous as everyone else. We make a few flowers for him for his birthday. He got so flustered when Yuu gave him a bouquet of his favorite flowers.

Pomefiore

Vil: At first was okay with it then saw Yuu use the flowers as a way to in power themselves. Just like him beautiful but dangerous. Vil asks them to go with him for a spring shoot for a modeling company and they help grow all the different flowers that look so GOOD with his outfits and structure. He asks Yuu to grow a flower as beautiful as the beautiful Queen. They do and he is just amazed at it! He basically loves it. Dotn put a flower crown in his head tho he needs his hair to be in perfect shape for pictures!

Rook: OMG ok so he makes so many poems of the beauty and danger Yuu can bring onto anyone if they cross them. He got on the receiving end of an attack one tiem because he stalked Yuu and they got surprised and basically threw him across the school. He apologized but he began to praise and complement Yuu on their flowers! They also make the ingredients or flowers for Science club needs for a potion.

Epel: at first thought you were a girly gril but then realized you can beat ass with flowers and be considered a major threat to everyone. He inspires to be like that. He realized what Vil ment by beauty Bing a great weapon by looking at Yuu use their flowers to bring down people 10 times their size. He dosen't like the flower crown pit on him since they make him look even more girly but he'll help you make them for everyone else!

Ignihyde

Idia: when Yuu came into his dorm looking for Grim they used the flowers to take anyone down in their path looking for their gremlin they reminded him of Persephone how she blessed the underworld with her flowers. He likes then but they wilted so fast. He likes the flower crown they make everyone.

Ortho: Yuu makes so many flower crown for him since they font see him a lot but tries to make pretty blue Ines since they fit him perfectly. They make sure to not make the roots go into anything in his body to jot ruin it or cause trouble to him. He loves them!

Diasomnia

Malleus: it reminds him of the flora fea's who make different flowers each year in the Thorn Valley. He loves them it reminds him of a princess from long ago who would grow flowers for her people. He loves it when Yuu weaves some into his hair or even a flower crown.

Lilia: he loves them reminds him of the different people he's meet who can make a whole field of flowers sprout before them! He respects them since they are a very high Flora mage. He wonders if they can make Thorns like the great Thorn Fairy. Yuu one time did and he got flashbacks to a different time before when Malleus was a baby.

Silver: he falls asleep so easily on the big flowers Yuu creates he looks like Thumbilina when he sleeps on them! They use his as a model for the flower crowns they make most of the time since he dosen't move and Silver dosen't really care.

Sebek: he was in awe how could a human do something like this? It reminded him of an old neighbor he had who would grow different kinds of flowers and sell them to the different fae in the Thorn Valley. He acts like he hates the flower crown but keeps every single one and even has Lilia to put a charm on them to never wilt.

#Hillis Inoadenn Yuu #the untouchable lady #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #lowkey Yuu jujust beating everyones ass

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restlessfandoming · 3 years

Text

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!”

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt.

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air.

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked.

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze.

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.”

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.”

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!��

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering.

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it?

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed.

Of course.

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon.

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak.

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him.

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more.

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow.

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose.

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up!

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed.

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically.

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin.

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist.

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing.

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there.

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response.

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity.

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her.

An Abyss Mage!

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it.

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us.

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably.

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake.

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground.

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body.

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!”

Lumine looked past the mage.

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief.

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe.

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm.

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle.

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully.

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage.

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling.

“Childe!” Lumine screamed.

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion.

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air.

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered.

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured.

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod.

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest.

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier.

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface.

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained.

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.”

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.”

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.”

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep.

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world.

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand.

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them.

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth.

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking.

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe x lumine #chilumi #childe #lumine #tartaglia #lumine x childe #fanfic #sickfic #me

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 5

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: canon rewrite, slow burn, canon-typical violence, sexual harassment/unwanted sexual advances, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When you’re caught in a firefight with a bounty hunter and the Crest is damaged, you and Mando stop on Tatooine to find a job. A shadow of your past catches up with you. Notes: Sorry not sorry for making Toro even worse than he already is. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @theflightytemptressadventure @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After leaving Sorgan, you and Mando chose a second “backwater skughole” several systems away as your next destination. Mando set the nav, and the automated voice of the computer informed you that the trip would take almost five days. The thought of spending five days confined to the Crest was not appealing, but you knew it was important to keep your stops as remote as possible.

Time was a functionally meaningless concept in space anyways, hours and days bleeding together. Without the usual environmental cues to govern your circadian rhythm, you had to rely on a schedule to maintain some semblance of normalcy, keeping alarms on your chrono to remind you when to sleep. Mando, on the other hand, seemed so completely accustomed to this slippery sense of time that he needed no reminders; this was natural for him.

If you hadn’t already seen some of his skin, you might actually think he was a droid. Aside from his hard metal exterior, the most compelling piece of evidence to support this theory was the fact that he didn’t seem to need much sleep. He disappeared into his bunk for maybe four or five hours a day, plus twenty minutes here or there to eat. You suspected he settled into a half-asleep, half-awake hibernation mode when he sat in the pilot’s seat for hours at a time without moving. Once, he jolted so violently when the child sneezed that he had to catch him by his collar before he slid off his knee.

His relationship with the kid, though, was achingly, heartwarmingly, vulnerably human.

You lived for the glimpses of their bond—the way Mando would remove a single pauldron so he could rest the child’s head on his shoulder to lull him to sleep, whispering to him as he swayed gently. When the kid was restless and energetic from being cooped up, Mando would roll the little silver sphere from a control in the cockpit along the floor of the hull for him to chase. For a generally impatient man, his patience for the child seemed almost inexhaustible; he would hold him and pat his back endlessly while he wailed his way through particularly bad tantrums.

You collected these precious moments and held them close to your heart, unwittingly creating a catalog of comfort that you’d return to later. They weren’t necessarily your moments to claim, as a visitor in their world, but you treasured them nonetheless.

***

You were out of colored contacts. You could only wear each pair continuously for a month, and your current pair was due to be switched out any day. The morning you threw them away, Mando stopped you as you passed him in the hull with a light hand on your shoulder. The kid was tucked in his other arm.

He stepped in front of you, just inches away from your chest, tilting his helmet down to look at you. You looked up to meet his gaze, puzzled. He cocked his head, a silent question.

Not for the first time, you wondered about the color of his eyes.

You held your breath, unsure of what he was going to do.

He said nothing but brought his gloved hand up to your face, running this thumb along the crest of your cheek—so lightly, the leather was barely touching you. The tender gesture brought goose bumps to your arms, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

The kid reached up a tiny hand toward your other cheek, mirroring Mando’s movement. He babbled quietly, breaking the tense silence. You flicked your eyes down to watch him but remained still, not wanting to disrupt the spell of the moment. The baby wiggled his fingers and whined when he realized he couldn’t reach you. You smiled.

You looked back up into Mando’s visor. You wanted so badly to reach out and touch him back, to pull him closer, but you let fear keep you rooted to the spot.

To your astonishment, he dipped his helmet, as if he was going to lean his forehead against yours. He was inches from your face—you could see your surprise reflected in his visor and hear his steady breathing through the modulator. But Mando seemed to change his mind mid-gesture, and the moment was over before you knew it. He straightened, dropped his hand, nodded stiffly, and stepped past you. The child let out a frustrated cry in protest.

Without the kid’s lingering whines, you might have thought you imagined the whole thing.

Little by little, you were revealing your real self to the Mandalorian, placing your safety in his hands. This would have been harder to stomach if you weren’t getting pieces of him in return. Spending this much time in such close quarters with someone—even someone as closed off as Mando—was enough to get to know them fairly well.

For instance, you weren’t quite fluent, but you were getting really good at reading his body language. He relied on his armor to mask his intentions with strangers, and he wasn’t accustomed to people spending extended amounts of time with him—time to learn his patterns and tells. Over time, it became apparent just how many minute things there were to unpack: subtle tensions in his back and shoulders, clenching of his fists, tapping of his fingers, the lean in his hips, audible inhales or exhales, the tilt of his helmet. Plus, there were nuanced flavors of each movement: a sassy head tilt, an angry head tilt, a confused head tilt. Soon enough, you’d be able to create a dictionary of the Mandalorian’s body language.

It was strange to think that you’d only been with him for a few weeks, and you might be the only person in the galaxy who could read him so well.

Something else you’d come to learn about Mando was that he was very particular about where his things were kept. This made sense—he’d clearly been living alone for years, if not decades. Of course someone with such a nomadic, unsettled lifestyle would want to carefully control what little in his environment that he could, but his compulsive organization was next level.

You came to this conclusion after you scooted his toothbrush and toothpaste over just slightly in the med cabinet to make a space for yours. The next morning, you opened the cabinet to find his things exactly where they had been before you’d moved them. You looked down to see that yours were sitting precariously on the edge of the sink, waiting to fall to the floor at the first sign of turbulence. Seriously?

That inspired you to devise a fun game—well, it was fun for you. You were pretty sure Mando hated it, though to his credit, he didn’t say anything about it for several days. Every day, you’d move one of his items just slightly to see if he’d notice and move it back. So far, he’d caught every tiny adjustment. He even reoriented his bar of soap when you moved it so it sat slightly off-kilter in its dish in the shower. He hadn’t even showered yet that day.

After three days, he finally cracked.

He was digging through a storage compartment, huffing dramatically though his modulator as he searched for something.

“I can’t imagine you’ve lost something,” you said, from where you were sitting on a crate sharing a ration pack with the kid, who was perched on your lap. “Not with how terrifyingly organized you are.”

“Yeah, well, that was only true before you started moving my stuff around.”

You grinned. “I was wondering when you were going to say something.”

“I was wondering when you were going to stop,” he huffed, but you detected the lightest trace of amusement in his tone.

“I haven’t actually moved anything,” you laughed. “Just... adjusted.”

He harrumphed, still digging around in the box.

The kid chittered and reached toward your hand for more food. You gave him another piece.

“If you let me leave my toothbrush and toothpaste in the med cabinet, I’ll stop.”

He looked up. “That’s it?”

“I’m a reasonable woman.”

“Deal.”

When you went to brush your teeth that night, one of the three shelves in the med cabinet had been completely cleared for you.

As you slowly began to insinuate yourself into Mando and the kid’s life, the guilt of not telling him about the bounty on your head started to weigh heavier on your mind. He deserved to know, but you couldn’t imagine him letting you stay if he found out. Why would he assume any extra risk? I’ll tell him soon. We probably won’t be together much longer anyways.

***

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

The unfamiliar voice of the bounty hunter echoed over the com in the cockpit. A ship was hot on your tail, landing several shots that rattled the Crest violently. The child, who was strapped into the seat beside you, seemed to enjoy the excitement of the chase, arms raised and giggling. Mando maneuvered the Crest quickly and deftly, so the pursuer was suddenly directly in front of the viewport.

“That’s my line,” he said dramatically, as he pulled the trigger and obliterated the ship in his sights.

Despite the fact that your heart was pounding in your chest, you couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh at that.

The chase had been short-lived, but the hunter had managed to inflict some serious damage. Alarms beeped and warning lights flashed along the console.

“Losing fuel,” said Mando. He was working hastily, his hands flying from one control to the next. He was trying to address several warning alarms at once.

“You work on that. I got this,” you said, unbuckling.

You stood next to him, attending to the controls in front of you.

“What are—Don’t do that,” he said, “Stop. I need to—”

He didn’t finish his sentence when he realized you were doing exactly what needed to be done to stabilize the ship.

“I thought you said you worked in programming.”

“I did. Mostly avionics.”

The second thruster sputtered and died. The cockpit went dark. All of the usual mechanical sounds that the ship made whirred to a halt. Mando turned in surprise, looking around. He clicked a few buttons. Nothing happened.

The child giggled from his seat.

“I’ll get it.” You walked to the back of the cockpit and wrenched open a panel to do a manual reset of the controls. Some of the lights came back on. Mando flicked several switches, and the displays came alive.

Together, you got the ship in good enough shape to limp to a nearby planet. Luckily, you were already close to Tatooine. The Razor Crest rattled alarmingly as it cleared the atmosphere, and Mando landed the ship with an unceremonious clunk in a bay in Mos Eisley.

Mando left the now sleeping baby in his bunk, despite your objections. That never works. He walked down the ramp to haggle with the mechanic.

Peli was a gruff woman, sassy and straightforward. You liked her right away. Mando deserved the sass Peli dished out, considering he had begun their interaction by shooting at her pit droids when they tried to approach the Crest.

He really hates droids.

You and Mando headed to the cantina to inquire about work. As soon as the ship went dead, you’d both known you’d need to pull a job to pay to fix the damage because there was no way the Crest was making it to your destination in its current state.

You trailed a few steps behind him, watching the intimidating way he stalked down the sandy street, his cape billowing behind him. He seemed less scary now that you knew he secretly had a sense of humor and an occasional flair for the dramatic. And that he once let you sleep on his shoulder. And tied your shoe for you.

When you entered the cantina, you shivered from the abrupt change in temperature. Outside the twin suns beat down; inside the dark cantina, it was cool.

Mando strode up to the bar. You followed him, taking in your surroundings.

“Hey, droid. I’m a hunter. I’m looking for some work.”

“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine,” replied the droid in a stilted voice.

“It doesn’t have to be Guild work,” you clarified.

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation,” said the droid, continuing to wipe down the surface of the bar with a rag.

“Think again, tin can,” interrupted a smug voice behind you. You and Mando turned.

A young man, his legs propped brazenly on the table in front of him, continued, “If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friends.” He gestured to the seats across from him.

“Name’s Toro, Toro Calican. Come on, relax.” He beckoned for you to join him again.

You and Mando exchanged a look and walked over to where he was seated.

Toro swung his legs off the table and slapped a bounty puck down in front of him as you slid into the booth and Mando followed.

“Picked up this bounty punk before I left the Mid Rim,” Toro explained. The hazy image of a woman with dark hair hovered over the puck. “Fennec Shand, an Assassin. Heard she’s been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.”

Toro had thick brown hair and dark eyes, a boyish face despite the scruff of five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. He couldn’t be older than 25.

“I’ve heard the name,” said Mando.

You nodded beside him. Fennec Shand was a legend. Having been chased by enough hunters, you were familiar with the big players.

“Yeah, well, I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she’s headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job.” He shrugged.

This kid clearly has no idea what he’s doing.

“Well, good luck with that,” said Mando, standing up. You stayed where you were, relaxed against the back of the booth.

“Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?” Toro looked from Mando to you, confused.

“How long you been with the Guild?” asked Mando.

“Long enough,” Toro spat unconvincingly.

“Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won’t make it past sunrise.”

Mando looked at you and jerked his head to signal that it was time to go. He started to walk away. You stayed seated, saying nothing.

Toro looked at you, pleading. You nodded toward Mando: “You’ll have to convince him.”

Toro scrambled after him. Mando turned to face him, and Toro had to look up to meet his visor.

“This is my first job,” he admitted in a strained voice. “You guys can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild. I can’t do it alone.”

Mando looked to you. You smiled knowingly, and he let out a sigh and nodded.

The man cannot say no to someone who needs help.

Toro was visibly relieved.

“Meet us at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring three speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob,” instructed Mando, holding out a hand.

Toro’s shoulders pulled together. Someone doesn’t want to let go of the fob.

Without any warning, he smashed the fob on the wall. It sparked.

Mando gave Toro his angry head tilt.

“Don’t worry, got it all memorized,” assured Toro, tapping a finger on his temple.

“Half an hour,” growled Mando.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, guys,” Toro said triumphantly, turning to look at you.

Mando pushed past Toro and walked back to the booth, leaning down toward you. “I am not that predictable,” he muttered in a low, irritated voice.

“You really are,” you smiled up at him. “I’ll meet you at the hangar in 20. I want real food.”

He nodded and left.

Toro looked very pleased with himself, grinning at you.

“You better go track down those bikes,” you reminded him, gesturing for a droid to come take your order.

Toro ignored your advice. Instead, he looked you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl and slid back into the booth across from you.

“You know what? I have an even better idea. Me and you can take Fennec ourselves. You look like a girl who can handle herself. Let’s ditch that rusty bucket right now and do this together. Fewer people to split the reward.” His eyes sparkled.

Is he fucking serious?

You already weren’t a huge fan of Toro and his cocky attitude, but the minute he called you “girl” like that, your regard for him plummeted. What little patience you had for this kid was wearing thin.

“Not interested.”

The droid came over, and you placed your order.

Toro, still looking at you expectantly, scooted around the table to sit next to you, and you moved in the opposite direction to maintain the distance between you.

“Mando is old, you know? I don’t know if you can tell, but I can. That’s an old man under that shiny armor. You look like you need someone younger to keep up with you.” He winked conspiratorially, as if the two of you were sharing a mutual joke.

You watched him through narrowed eyes, a sour feeling settling in your stomach.

He was clearly terrible at reading people because he responded to your disgusted look by reaching over to run a heavy hand along the inside of your thigh. He barely made it an inch past your knee when you ripped his hand off your leg, tightening your fingers around his wrist until your nails dug into his skin.

“Touch me again and lose a hand,” you spat at him, releasing him and pushing up from the table. You wrapped your fingers around the hilt of the blade at your hip.

“Whoa, whoa! I was just being friendly, sweetheart,” he said loudly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He looked around at the other patrons as if seeking outside confirmation that you were the one who was being unreasonable in this situation.

“You should leave.”

“I was obviously kidding about ditching Mando,” said Toro, shaking his head. “You really need to lighten up.” He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed.

You spared him a biting response, fixing him with a glare instead.

“I’ll go find those bikes.” He stood to leave, purposefully brushing past your shoulder as he went.

***

After finishing your meal, you stalked out of the cantina and back to the terminal to find Mando.

He was sitting at the top of the ramp of the Crest fiddling with an open control panel in the wall. He looked up to nod at you when he heard you approach.

“I don’t like that kid, Mando. I don’t trust him. I don’t think we should do this.” You stopped in front of him and put your hands on your hips.

“I know. He’s inexperienced, but he’s harmless.”

“No, that’s what I’m saying—he’s not harmless.”

“What did he say to you?” Mando continued working on the open control panel, only vaguely listening to you.

“He tried to talk me into ditching you and teaming up with him, so we didn’t have to split the reward three ways... He also hit on me.” You added the last part as an afterthought and grimaced at the memory of his gross hand on your thigh.

His head snapped up to look at you. “He—what?”

You looked at him, waiting for him to verbalize a more coherent question. You weren’t sure which part of what you’d shared horrified him the most.

“I—what—uh, yeah, I know... I don’t trust him either,” he continued, “but there are two of us and only one of him. We need the credits—and we’ll get the full reward, like he agreed, whether he likes it or not. We’re not going to find many other jobs here, and I don’t think he’s smart enough to pull anything.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. Toro doesn’t seem capable of critical thinking, let alone concocting and carrying out an elaborate scheme. The bounty was too high and other jobs too scarce to resist.

“We’ll keep a close eye on him. Let’s just finish this job quickly, and then you, me, and the kid can move on.”

“Okay,” you agreed, reluctantly. The way he emphasized the fact that you and him and the kid were a team was an obvious attempt to quell your worries. And it did. Mostly. It was a little startling how well he knew you already.

“Where’s the baby?” you asked, suddenly realizing the door to his bunk was open, and it was empty.

“He left the ship, and Peli found him. She agreed to take care of him while we do this job.”

Again, here he is, trusting a complete stranger.

“I told you he never stays put,” you scowled.

“Don’t worry, Peli already gave me an earful about how much I don’t know about kids.” He sounded defeated, so you decided not to pile on.

“You’re doing a good job, you know. The kid really loves you.”

He seemed surprised by your sincerity, his shoulders pulling back slightly. “I’m not, but thanks.”

It hurt your heart a little to hear him say that.

***

When you left the terminal fifteen minutes later, Toro was outside, leaning against one of two speeder bikes with a cocky smile on his face.

Peli, who was holding the kid and arguing with Mando about payment, stood in the doorway to see you off. You caught the curious look that Toro gave the baby in Peli’s arms.

“Hey, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh? I could only track down two. You guys will have to share,” Toro said.

You and Mando looked at each other. Mando started to inspect the bike closest to you. Before he could beat you to it, you threw a leg over the speeder bike and sat down at the front of the seat.

“What are you doing?” Mando asked you.

“Driving,” you said, shrugging and reaching into your bag. You pulled on a pair of googles and wrapped a scarf around your nose and mouth. You secured your bag on the back of the bike.

When you noticed that Mando had made no move to join you, you looked at him and tipped your head back toward the seat behind you. “Let’s go.”

You could tell by the resigned drop in his shoulders that he knew it would be more work to try to convince you to scoot back than was worth it. He climbed on the speeder behind you, crowding you forward and reaching his long arms around you to grab the controls.

“Nope. Nice try,” you said, slapping his gloved hands away and grasping the controls yourself.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your middle. You hoped he didn’t notice the goose bumps that appeared on your neck when he touched you. It was way too warm out under the two blazing suns to explain them away.

You jerked your wrists down and leaned forward to take off across the open sand, not waiting for Toro to mount his speeder.

“What the hell??” he yelled after you.

He caught up after a few moments.

After awhile, you let yourself relax back against Mando’s chest, and you smiled to yourself when he tightened his arms around you.

The suns slipped lower in the sky as you coasted over the shifting surface of the Dune Sea.

***

You and Toro slowed your bikes to a halt when Mando released your waist to hold up a fist.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“Look. Up ahead,” The rasp of Mando’s modulator in your ear and the concurrent rumble in his chest made you shiver, so you hastily hopped off the bike.

Mando stayed seated while you and Toro each pulled out a set of binocs to scan the landscape. Neither of you had the heightened vision that Mando’s helmet afforded him.

Through your binocs, you spotted two Tusken raiders standing beside two very hairy Banthas a short distance ahead. You lowered your binocs and scanned the immediate area.

“Tusken raiders. I heard the locals talking about this filth,” spat Toro, who was still watching them through his binocs.

You stepped back toward the bike as two Tuskens crested the hill you were on. Mando reached out a hand to grab your wrist, squeezing gently. You looked at him, and he nodded reassuringly.

“Tuskens think they’re the locals,” Mando said coolly, turning back to Toro. “Everyone else is just trespassing.”

“Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,” Toro remarked.

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?” asked Mando.

You grinned. There’s that flair for the dramatic.

Toro turned, and the two Tuskens screeched at him. You laughed at the way Toro positively jumped. Mando stood, raising a calming hand toward Toro, and told him to relax. You followed him as he approached the Tuskens and started gesturing to them, clearly proficient in their sign-based language.

Mando’s hands moved smoothly though deft, controlled movements. You looked down and bit your lip, trying to focus on twisting the toe of your boot back and forth in the sand to prevent your mind from wandering somewhere less appropriate.

“What are you doing?” Toro asked Mando.

“Negotiating.”

The Tuskens signed back to Mando.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“We need passage across their land.”

“What did you think he meant by “negotiating”?” you said, raising your eyebrows at Toro.

“Let me see your binocs,” said Mando, holding out a hand to Toro.

“Why?”

Mando said nothing but kept his hand out, waiting. The two suns, now low in the sky, reflected brightly off his helmet. Toro handed them over begrudgingly, and Mando tossed them to the Tuskens. The Tuskens looked satisfied with their payment.

“He—hey! What? Those were brand new!” stuttered Toro in surprise.

“Yeah? They were.” Mando stalked away and remounted the speeder bike. You followed him.

And there’s that sense of humor. It’s sassy.

“You couldn’t have taken hers instead?” Toro asked, nodding at you.

“Nope,” said Mando.

You smiled sweetly at Toro as Mando scooted back in the seat and let you climb on in front of him.

***

The next time you stopped more abruptly. Mando raised his fist and barked, “Get down!”

You and Mando sprang off your bike in unison and crouched down. Toro, struggling to keep up with what was happening, fumbled with his goggles before following suit.

The three of you made your way to the edge of the dune in front of you, staying low. You set yourselves up on your stomachs at the top of the rise. Not far below, a dewback trudged forward slowly with what looked like a dead rider trailing after it, a rein wrapped around the figure’s limp ankle.

“Is that her? Is that the target?” asked Toro.

“I don’t know... I’ll go.” He looked at you to say, “You two cover me.”

You nodded.

He looked at Toro to emphasize, “Stay down.”

You and Toro pulled out your blasters. Mando ran hurriedly down the dune, his own blaster drawn. He approached the dewback slowly with a reassuring, “Whoa, whoa.”

Mando flipped over the prone body.

“So, is it her? Is she dead?” yelled Toro.

Mando turned, “It’s another bounty hunter.”

Toro turned to look at you. “He’s not planning to keep all that stuff for himself, right? I at least want that blaster.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you shut up for one second?”

He gave you a disbelieving look. You ignored him and focused your attention back on Mando.

Mando started to rise, turning suddenly to yell, “GET DOWN!” as blaster fire hit his pauldron, knocking him to the ground.

“Mando!” you yelled.

He scrambled back to his feet and broke into a run. He crested the hill as a second shot screamed after him. Again, it hit him in the beskar, sound reverberating off the metal. He threw himself down with a grunt, rolling towards you in a shower of sand.

“Are you okay? You didn’t get hit, right?” You reached out towards him.

“Yeah, it hit me in the beskar. And at that range, the beskar held up.” He sounded winded.

“What happened?” asked Toro, as Mando set himself back up on the crest of the hill, lying between you and Toro.

“Sniper bolt. Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot.”

“Fennec,” you said. Mando nodded.

“Did you see where the shot came from?” he asked you.

“Yeah, from that ridge.” You pointed.

“Okay, we’re gonna wait until dark.”

“Well, what if she escapes?” asked Toro from where he was resting on his elbows on the other side of Mando.

“She’s got a good position,” you said. “She’s not moving.”

“Exactly,” agreed Mando. “She’ll wait for us to make the first move.”

Mando rolled over and stood only part of the way up, offering a hand down to you. You grasped it and got to your feet. You both hunched low to keep yourselves behind the protective swell of the dune.

“We’re gonna rest. You take the first watch. Stay low,” Mando said to Toro.

You followed Mando back to the bikes.

“Be extra careful. I don’t like you being out here with no beskar,” he said to you, more quietly.

“I will.”

Your stomach clenched at the way Mando’s voice warmed when he was talking only to you. He spoke to Toro in a clipped tone, like he was scolding an unruly kid. He spoke to you like an equal, a partner. You couldn’t pinpoint when he’d started talking to you this way, but it had shifted recently. It was a tone you’d heard him use with the kid and with Omera. Something that felt a lot like hope sparked in your chest at this realization.

He slumped down against your speeder bike and reached up to pull you down next to him. You leaned back against the bike next to him, your body flush with his, and let your cheek fall against his shoulder.

After a few moments, you could hear a light snore rasping through his modulator. Apparently this man can fall asleep anywhere.

Eventually, you fell into a light sleep, not trusting Toro enough to sleep deeply.

***

You woke to Toro saying, “Time to ride, guys.”

“Come on, wake up!”

You opened your eyes and lifted your head. It was dark out; the last lavender traces of the sunset were disappearing along the horizon. Mando was still beside you, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Look at him, asleep on the job. I told you he was an old man,” leered Toro.

You felt the cadence of Mando’s breathing shift beside you.

“You’re right. He’s ancient—basically dead already,” you quipped, patting Mando on the knee to signal that you knew he was awake.

Toro couldn’t tell if you were mocking him or joking with him, so he just looked at you, slack-jawed, trying to parse it out.

“Not quite,” Mando said, jabbing you in the ribs lightly with his elbow. Toro started at Mando’s words.

You stood, this time extending a hand down to help Mando up. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else—he weighed way more with that armor on than you could ever lift. Nonetheless, he took your hand as he hauled himself to his feet.

“We’re going to ride as fast as we can towards those rocks,” explained Mando, pointing to where Fennec was presumably perched.

“That’s your plan?” scoffed Toro. “She’ll snipe us right off the bikes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem remember the amazing plan that you came up with?” you sniped, raising your hands in disbelief.

Mando snickered, a short rasp through the modulator, and in answer to Toro’s question, he tossed a small item his way then handed something to you.

“They’re flash charges. You two will alternate shots. It’ll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed, and we got a chance.”

You looked down at the charge in your hand, noting the button that would set it off.

“A chance?!” blurted Toro.

You bit back a scathing retort, turning back to your bike.

“Hey, you wanted this. Get ready,” replied Mando, tipping his helmet at Toro.

Mando stepped close to you, lowering his voice. “Let me sit in front this time. In case she manages to make any shots.”

You nodded in agreement, appreciating his protective nature.

You mounted the bike behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, the charge grasped tightly in your right hand. Mando wrenched his wrists down, and your speeder bike took off, with Toro in your wake.

Mando pushed the bike as fast as it could possibly go, launching it over the swells of sand. You gripped him tighter, and the wind whipped the edges of his cape against your legs.

Apparently Fennec spotted you easily from her vantage point on the cliff because she started her assault immediately, firing at Toro’s speeder first.

Mando reached one hand down for a moment to squeeze your arm, and you understood. Holding his waist tightly with your left arm, you reached your right one up into the air to set off the charge. It went off with a screech. Even through your closed eyelids, you registered the blinding flash of light.

Fennec recovered fairly quickly. She resumed firing only moments after the light dissipated. Mando weaved the bike in a serpentine pattern to avoid the shots.

He turned to Toro and yelled, “NOW!”

Toro let off a charge. Another searing light rippled across the landscape.

After a moment, Fennec fired again, her aim becoming more precise as you drew closer to the cliff. This time, she didn’t miss. A direct shot screamed across the sand and hit the front of your speeder bike. You let go of Mando in the jolt of the impact, and you both flew over the top of the bike and landed in the sand.

Ouch.

Toro zoomed past, looking back for only a second. You didn’t like how easily he left you both behind, but logically, you knew that someone needed to get to Fennec as soon as possible.

You stayed prone on the sand, lifting just your head to see where Mando had fallen a few feet ahead of you. You were relieved when he sprang to his feet and ran back towards you. Without any warning, he lowered himself down over you to protect you from any more incoming fire. He braced himself on his elbows and knees so his body was pressed against yours, but he wasn’t crushing you with the combined weight of his body and armor.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice right behind your ear.

“Yeah.” Your face was pressed against the warm sand. “You?”

“Good. You got the charge?”

You handed it up to him. Luckily, you’d managed to hold onto it during the impact. Mando fumbled for a moment, then lifted an arm to set it off.

After the searing light faded and the dark blanket of night returned, another blaster shot landed in the sand a few feet from your head. Mando edged forward and rested his helmet on the sand above your head. You were completely shielded.

“Thanks,” you muttered up to him, slightly self-conscious that this purely protective position was affecting you so much, a slow heat coiling tight in your stomach. His whole body was flush with yours, his breath heavy and fast in your ear, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his armored chest against your back. The places where he wasn’t covered by beskar pressed warmly against you. Think about anything else.

A shot pinged off his back. Mando tensed and grunted at the impact. You gritted your teeth and focused on burying your fingers in the sand, definitely not thinking about what other things might draw similar sounds from him.

“Alright, I think Toro got to her. Let’s go, but stay behind me,” Mando rasped in your ear, squeezing your shoulder with a gloved hand.

You nodded beneath him, stifling the shiver that was threatening to run up your spine. Think about anything else.

He rolled off you, and you both got to your feet. You breathed a sigh of relief and positioned yourself at his back, both of you drawing your blasters. In the dark, you could see red streaks of blaster fire on the cliff where Fennec had been perched.

“We gotta run,” you yelled, pushing him forward. “Toro wont be able to take her alone, Mando!”

You stayed close behind him, a hand on his lower back, so he knew you were with him.

When you reached the foot of the cliff, you could hear Toro’s groans and Fennec’s grunts, but you couldn’t see them. You and Mando scrambled up the sandy incline that was littered with boulders and crested the cliff right as Fennec wrestled Toro to the ground.

“Nice distraction,” said Mando, training his blaster on Fennec. She reluctantly released Toro from her hold and put her hands up in defeat. You waited, partially concealed behind Mando until you knew she was restrained.

Toro grunted in pain as he stood up slowly.

“Cuff yourself,” Mando ordered Fennec, tossing the cuffs in front of her.

“A Mandalorian. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind.” She stood. “Ever been to Nevarro? I hear things didn’t go so well there, but it looks like you got off easy.”

Fuck, just how much has she heard about what went down on Nevarro?

Fennec smiled even wider when you stepped out from behind Mando. There was no avoiding her now. Sure enough, recognition flickered in her eyes.

Uh oh.

“Well, well, well... if it isn’t my favorite bounty,” she drawled, and before you could react, your name—your real name—fell from her lips. “You lead me all over the damn galaxy, sweetheart.”

***

Chapter 6

#my writing #tempered glass #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #reader insert #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

Pranksters of the Bunch (Harry Potter AU)

Y/n is just starting to get comfortable with her new friends, when she learns about their more... playful side. We learn about more relationships and see hints of our endgame. We also get a glimpse of some other players that make up the rest of our version of Hogwarts. @literaryhedgehog

Pt. 1

“For next class, homework is to practice your transfiguration. Anyone who can get their matchstick into a needle is exempt from writing their essay. You are dismissed,” Professor McGonagall said, tapping her wand on the blackboard so the notes from the day’s lesson disappeared. As the other students began filing out of the room you picked up your bag and dropped your notes into it, careful to set your “quill” gently so the bic ballpoint pen you taped to it wouldn’t fall off.

“If you epoximose it, you won’t have to worry about it falling off” Lindsey said with an eye roll, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Some of your habits were a bit… odd. Like your preference for a pen that you didn’t have to dip in ink.

“I’m sorry, if I what?” you asked. “That sounds like a sneeze.”

“It’s a spell that’ll glue it so you don’t need to use spell-o-tape,” Kelley said, appearing on your other side as Professor McGonagall left the room.

“I can teach you, if you like. It’s super simple, even a first year could do it,” Emily offered, ignoring Lindsey’s sideways glare.

“Then why don’t they teach it to us as first years?” You said, slamming your chair under the desk. Not that you disliked any of your classes, but the curriculum seemed to leave out a lot of useful information.

“Because they’re afraid that it’ll just help students do better pranks,” Lindsey huffed, crossing her arms. If anyone was going to teach you things, it should be her.

“No they’re not,” Ashlyn said, rolling her eyes. “They teach tricky techniques that are applicable to multiple spells. It’s like quidditch drills.”

“Cause it’s so much less challenging than fighting a boggart, or accioing anything. If you mess it up, then you could glue your fingers together,” Emily snorted, shaking her head. She was just lucky that Madam Pomfrey liked her enough to not rat her out to Professor Slughorn (not that he’d actually do anything) or Professor Longbottom.

“Or accidentally drop a banner on the Huffelpuffs?” Ashlyn said with a raised eyebrow. Emily and Kelley seemed to shrink just a bit under her gaze.

“That was you?” You asked, eyes wide. That banner had almost knocked Cheney off her broom and Amy was pissed. Rumor had it that the Slytherin captain had taken care of the incident because it was someone in her house that did it, but no one knew for sure (at least you thought no one knew).

“You can’t prove anything,” Emily grumbled.

“It was them,” Lindsey nodded, smirking at you. “and Arod made sure they not only apologized, but that they actually meant it. Kelley only got away unscathed because she hid in Gryffindor tower,”

Those two always got themselves in over their heads and something always went wrong. You could only wonder what the Slytherin chaser did to them. Amy was terrifying when she wanted to be especially when you messed with her girlfriend.

“Of course I meant it, the banner wasn’t supposed to fall,” Emily grumbled. “The charm was supposed to last the whole game. Anyway, she made me practice the sticking charm and its reverse a hundred times so it wouldn’t happen again. Not that it matters next year when I’m actually on the team. It’s stupid that they still don’t want second years to play beater.”

“At least this time there won’t be any accidents,” Ashlyn said, smirking as she settled into a chair previously vacated by some of your second year peers. Which was when you realized it was kind of odd that she was here. Wasn’t she a third year student?

“What do you mean?” You asked, your head tilting to the side like a puppy.

“Wait THIS time?” Lindsey, asked, looking between the three girls settling down at the desks like it wasn’t the end of the day’s classes. “Don’t tell me you’re planning another prank right now?”

“Of course not!” Kelley said, looking aghast.

“You haven’t left the room yet,” Emily said, adopting a similarly innocent, wide eyed expression.

“They’re going to be dumbasses and probably get detention for a month aren’t they?” You asked, looking at Lindsey for help. Though you had know been hanging out with them for the past few weeks, they were still her friends after all.

“Oh. I don’t want detention though,” Ashlyn said flipping through a spellbook absentmindedly. “And it will be rather hard to prove we have anything to do with an event which might or might not happen in the next few days.”

“Just a word of advice, though. If you’re going to take a shower today, do it in the next two hours and don’t take one tomorrow morning,” Emily said finally, eyes softening just a little at your too nervous expression.

“You don’t think they’re going to test your wands to see if it was you?” Lindsey asked skeptically.

“Priori incantatem only goes so far, especially if I tutor Y/n on how to glue her pens together,” Emily rolled her eyes, and shrugged. She would argue she was just being a good friend after all.

“With the kind of prep work we’ve done, they’d have to go back, oh, at least three days before they saw any hint that we’ve done a spell related to the event, which again, might or might not start in,” Kelley checked her watch, the face of which glowed a soft yellow, “two hours and five minutes, give or take 20 seconds.”

You wondered if she came from a muggle family too, but you had been too afraid to ask. You had never met a wizard or witch that preferred wristwatches to pocket watches before.

“In that case, we’ll head back to the Gryffindor dorms,” Lindsey said, hastily sweeping her transfiguration notes into the mouth of her bag. “See you at dinner Kelley, Ashlyn.”

“Want to meet in the library to learn the sticking charm Y/n?” Emily asked. Lindsey stopped in the doorway, waiting for you. “Like I said, I practiced the charm literally a hundred times, so I’m really good at it now!”

“Um, I think I’m just going to focus on turning my matchstick into a needle tonight, but maybe some other time?” You mumbled, glancing up at Lindsey. (Were you imagining the slight uptick of her lips?)

“Okay, See you then!” And with that Emily turned back to her compatriots, who all put their heads together and started talking in hushed voices, over a sheet of paper which looked eerily similar to a playbook.

“What do you think they’re planning?” you whispered to Lindsey as the two of you raced towards the stone staircases up to the Gryffindor tower. There was this one staircase that was the fastest way up when it was connected to the right floor, but it only stayed there for a few minutes every half hour. If you missed the window to catch it there would be two extra flights to climb.

“You really don’t want to know. Something always goes wrong when they make plans anyway. It’s why they always get caught,” Lindsey said back equally as quiet, shaking her head. She would skin them alive if you got caught in the crossfire. You were on her off limits list (you always had been) and they had always promised to respect that.

*****

The two of you just made it to the beginning of dinner, after taking turns in the dorm’s bathroom to shower and dry your hair (at least until it wasn’t noticeably dripping). You didn’t know when your next opportunity to take a shower unscathed would be, and you were happy you had made it within Kelley’s two hour window.

However, despite your expectations of screams, or the sound of frogs appearing from the drains, it was a quiet night. As was the morning afterwards. It wasn’t until lunch the next day, that you learned what the prank had been. Exactly as the clock struck noon, all around the great hall people started laughing as the hair of ¾ the school population turned bright colors.

Professor McGonagall frowned at her bright purple hair in the reflection of her teapot. Alex threw a roll at Kelley (with neon yellow hair) who was pointing and laughing at her forest green hair. Tobin and Lauren had fallen off the bench laughing over at the hufflepuff table, pointing towards their respective girlfriends matching pink hair at the ravenclaw and Slytherin tables (Tobin’s hair didn’t seem to have changed color, though Lauren’s was a pale aquamarine sort of blue).

At the Slytherin table Michelle was admiring her jet black hair, though with a wave of her wand it seemed to be speckled with glimmering white and red stars, then she turned to resume her conversation with Joy and some of the other seventh years, who you noticed didn’t seem to have colorful hair.

Looking around the hall, you noticed that a lot of the older students seemed to be lacking the colorful hair sprouted by most of the student body. A few Ravenclaw sixth years had only looked up briefly from studying their notes to see what the commotion was about, before returning to “The Official N.E.W.T.S. Study Guide- test prep for the procrastinator”. Hope, Brandi, Mia, Briana, Christie, Tiffany, Lorrie, Carla. You looked at the sixth and seventh years you knew from watching quidditch games. Regardless of house, almost none of them appeared to be affected by the prank..

“You could have told me, you know?” Alex glared, throwing another roll at her cackling girlfriend.

“But what fun would that be?” Kelley snorted, dodging the roll and quickly snatching up the basket to remove any further ammunition out of Alex’s reach.

“Ashlyn told Ali and Emily told Kristie!” Alex whined, her nose scrunching up just the way Kelley always loved. Alex’s angry face was too cute for her to be like or off limits.

“I value my life too much to mess with her hair care routine,” Ashlyn said, lifting her hands in surrender at Kelley’s death stare. Ali was on her off limits list after all, and that was a line she wasn’t willing to cross.

“And you’ll notice all three of us were also affected by this terrible prank some stranger pulled!” Kelley said, unable to keep a straight face to match her seemingly offended tone.

“Though I think I might use my free period after lunch to practice some quidditch drills,” Ashlyn said, twirling a strand of her bright maroon hair around a finger. “I have a feeling that the color will fade after I dump the icy cooler water over my head.”

“Need someone to send some quaffles your way?” Lindsey asked around a large bite of turkey. She was always down to practice, especially if it meant avoiding the food fight that seemed to be brewing at their table.

“Wait, ice water?” You asked Kelley as Ashlyn and Lindsey began discussing practice plans. Kelley jumped on the opportunity to escape Alex’s ire.

“Oh yeah, we- um, whoever pulled this terrible prank- tied the spell to the hot water pipes. It should be safe to take a hot shower by tonight, but basically anyone who used hot water last night or this morning was affected. Cold water removes it though, which is why we quidditch players will discover the counter first, as we are known for taking ice baths after practice.”

“So I have to freeze my ass off to fix this shit!!” Alex screeched, plucking at the strands of green hair falling into her eyes.

“Come on,” Lindsey said, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards where Brandi was sitting at the front of the Gryffindor table. “Let’s go get the locker room key from Brandi so we can go practice before potions.”

“Yeah, let’s do that” You mumbled, eyes widening at how Alex was now towering over Kelley. You didn’t know the beater could shrink so far into her chair.

Brandi, it turned out, was talking with professor McGonagall about the house cup this year. Though no longer head of Gryffindor house, McGonagall was still invested in the team’s progress.

“Oh, speak of the boggart, here are our two latest recruits,” Brandi said, gesturing at you and Lindsey as you walked toward her. “Professor, Lindsey is our newest chaser and Y/n is one of the best first time seekers Mia has ever seen.”

“Speaking of which,” Lindsey said jumping in, “We were hoping to practice some drills after lunch. Could we borrow the locker room keys?”

You stood just behind her, still a little intimidated by both women.

“It is good to see some responsibility coming from some of our second year Gryffindors,” Professor McGonagall said, smiling at you- when you peeked out from behind the taller chaser- and Lindsey in turn. “I do think some of your classmates, and perhaps even some of our third year students could learn a thing or two from you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you smiled meekly and quickly made your way out of the great hall with Lindsey and the acquired keys. “What do you think she meant by that? Do you think she knows who did it?”

“Oh absolutely,” Lindsey said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t take a Seer to predict that they’re going to have detention tomorrow night. Now come on, I want to try that new feint you read about.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #literalhedgehog #lindsey horan imagine #harry potter au #hogwarts au #quidditch au

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kimistorm · 3 years

Text

My Heart Gone Missing [Chapter 5]

Fandom: Studio Ghibli (Howl’s Moving Castle)

Pairing: Friendship! Howl x GN! Reader

Warnings: Marius is unsupportive and angsty as usual~

Masterlist

“Y/N! You’re insane, you know that?” Marius asked as you put a baseball cap on and turned the dial to the town.

“Your point?” you asked as you turned to the ceramic basin.

“Why would a wizard give you one of his spells?”

“Well, you never know until you try, right?” you asked happily as you opened the door. “Any last words before I leave?”

“You’re-”

“Nope, bye Marius!” you called before you darted out the door.

“Y/N! Stop cutting me off!” Marius yelled moments before the door slammed shut behind you.

You began the walk through town towards the shop that you saw the other day. “Okay, just be polite, ask if they have the spell, if not, run.” You mumbled to yourself as you walked through the crowds of people. You looked down at your feet to avoid eye contact with other people, and when you slowed down, you looked up to see the shop of ‘The Great Wizard Jenkins’. “Okay, let’s do this.” You took a deep breath and then knocked on the door. Moments later the door opened to the same stunted man, er kid, from the other day.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

“You don’t happen to have a spell, do you?” you asked sweetly. After thinking about your sentence you sighed at your vagueness.

“You were that person who ran away the other day, right?” the kid asked gruffly.

“No! You must be confused with someone else.” You said quickly as your hand moved to your (h/c) locks of hair. You gave a small scratch before your hand flew back down at your side. “You don’t happen to have a spell that’ll, uh, I don’t know, hypothetically be able to turn you into, well, an animal, preferably a bird, you know, like, uh, hypothetically speaking of course.” You said quietly while not looking at the kid.

“Are you a witch/wizard?” the kid asked.

“What? No! What makes you think that?” you asked in a panicked fashion. Your hair was slowly turning into a (different hair color) starting from when you scratched it. Magic.

“Only a witch/wizard would want to look for a spell like that.” The kid answered.

“Well, you know, it’s all hypothetical and such. I don’t want it for myself, I’m just looking for a gift, for, uh, for a friend. Yeah! Because I totally have friends, why wouldn’t I have friends?” you silently cursed at yourself for your awkwardness and the conversation that you were having.

“No. We don’t give out spells like that. It’s too dangerous. Especially for that friend of yours, who doesn’t know what they’re doing, unless they are a witch or wizard.” The kid said smoothly.

Darn, he saw right through it, “okay, yeah, thank you. I’m sorry for wasting your time, again. I mean! Not again, we definitely haven’t met before. Okay, I’ll leave. Sorry for bothering you!” you yelled the last part out as you ran away from the shop. Again.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are!” the kid yelled after you.

“Good to know old man!” you yelled in return.

“Children.” You heard the kid grumble behind you.

“I wouldn’t say that!” you yelled at him, “you’re not older than me!” you laughed when you saw the stunned look on the kids face before sprinting away. You may like to get a rise out of people, but you don’t like the consequences, and there was no way you were going to test out this kids’ consequences.

You quickly weaved your way through the crowd of pedestrians as you ran back towards the little building that housed the portal to your house. As you ran past people you decided that you were going to break in.

Now, to any normal person, breaking into a wizard’s house was insane, but, that was exactly what you excelled at. At least, according to Marius.

You successfully made it to your door without being pursued by an angry wizard, or an angry pedestrian. You casually leaned against the unassuming door and slipped in. “Marius!” you called out.

“Oh, you’re back already. Did it work?” Marius asked in a bored fashion from his bowl.

“Does it look like it worked?” you asked as you threw your baseball cap onto a desk that was steadily getting more cluttered with every passing day.

Marius looked up at you from his bowl in the corner, “I’d say you participated in a marathon because for some reason you thought that running in a marathon was a better idea than asking for a spell.”

“Huh, not too far off.” You mused, “anyways. I didn’t get the spell.”

“No surprise there.” Marius scoffed.

“But, I did get this wonderful idea.” You continued.

“A wonderful idea?” Marius looked at you disbelievingly, “why do I get the nagging suspicion that your ‘wonderful idea’ is actually a horrible idea that’ll probably get everyone killed.”

“It’s not going to get everyone killed.” You retorted, “I’m ashamed that you think that of me! I’m just going to break into the house and get the spell for myself.”

“That is the worst idea I’ve heard in centuries.” Marius said immediately, “and I was best friends with a minnow for like half of that time.”

You ignored what Marius had said and set to work on creating a foolproof plan. You got out some paper and wrote out a rough outline of what you were going to do. It started with an invisibility spell, you’d follow another person into the shop and just camp out by the door until they all left. Once everyone was gone, you’d search for the spell.

You smiled to yourself, this plan could either fail or be amazing. Marius leaned towards the crash and burn end of the spectrum, but you liked the idea of this plan. It seemed foolproof.

“Y/N, are you seriously writing up a plan?” Marius asked from his corner. You simply ignored him, you didn’t need any of his negativity. “Just don’t crash and burn alright.” Marius sighed, “there’s no way I’ll be able to roll my way to the lake if this house falls apart.”

“Glad to know you care about me.” You said as you leafed through your books on spells.

Marius scoffed, “no. I don’t care about you, I just care about my well being.”

“Same thing.” You waved as you pulled out a large book from the shelf. You shoved some papers off of the table and dropped the heavy book onto the table. It was leather bound and the cover was worn and faded from time. If you looked hard enough, you could barely make out an elaborate insignia and some words in an ancient language.

“At the rate you're going you’re going to end up living in a pigsty!” Marius insulted.

You ignored him and flipped through the gold edged pages. The script was small and swirly, and if the yellowing pages had any indication, it was a rather old book.

“Y/N! Stop ignoring me! You’re being such a bore.” Marius whined.

“You try decoding the words of several centuries old writing.” You snapped back as you leaned down to try and read what the script said.

“Why on earth do you have a centuries old book?” Marius demanded.

“What? You think I’m the first witch/wizard in the family?”

“Why are you living on your own then!” Marius yelled in a fury.

You shrugged, “adventure. Independence. Human things.”

There was the sound of indignant splashing and Marius fell silent.

“You didn’t drown yourself over there, did you?” you asked after a few minutes of silence, except for the flipping of pages.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Marius laughed dryly. “What are you even looking for?”

“Invisibility spell.” You replied.

“Great, you’re going to be invisible. Let me guess, you’re going to sneak into Jenkin’s store and steal the spell.” You fell silent and didn’t answer Marius’ sarcastic comment. “Oh my gosh.” Marius cackled in disbelief, “you actually are! Wow, I think we know who won the award for dumbest plan.”

“Be quiet.” You grumbled to him.

“Honestly. I think you have a deathwish.” Marius continued to talk as if he hadn’t heard your quiet threat.

“Nobody asked for your opinion.” You snapped back.

“Ooh, looks like I hit a soft spot.” Marius cackled gleefully, “so, tell me, was it because I figured out what you were going to do?”

“Don’t make me throw this rock at you.” You turned to his corner and held up a rock that you had picked up for exactly this reason.

“You’d miss.” Marius said in reply, but you did hear some apprehension in his voice.

“Shall we test it and see?” you threatened.

“No! I’m good. You can keep your rock. I’ll be quiet!” Marius said hastily.

“You better be quiet.” You muttered darkly and turned back to your book.

You didn’t know how long you spent poring over the small print of the book, but when your back and neck started to scream from pain you decided to stand back up to stretch out your back. You stood up to your full height and raised your arms above you in a long stretch. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and get some knots out of it.

“Did you find it?” Marius’ sullen voice echoed in his bowl.

“No.” You sighed and pulled up a chair next to the book so you could continue flipping through the book. You were only halfway through the book, so you still had some hopes, but it was quickly dwindling.

“Ugh!” you shouted and let your face drop onto the book. You peeled your face away from it a moment later due to the dust that was causing you to sneeze. “This is impossible!” you shouted and stood up from the chair and stormed away.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Marius eagerly shouted, “you should quit! Leave all the crazy wizard stuff to Howl and the Witch of the Waste!”

“Shut up Marius!” you yelled back and stormed out of the door.

Taglist: @pogpixelz

55 notes · View notes

local-ground-apple · 4 years

Note

hiiiiiiiiiii! can i request smth soft with vil and a gender neutral s/o? u can do whatever format works best! i just want some kisses 🥺🥺🥺🥺

I think this is my first soft Vil so far If you want more kisses Mac, I did kissing headcanons

Vil’s judgemental look would be enough to make anyone shiver in fear and refrain from their proposition.

Everyone apart from you and maybe Rook.

,,Come on, I can guarantee that you will absolutely love it!”

Your voice was beaming with joy and excitement, your eyes were filled with anticipation and eagerness and Vil was more than displeased to crash all your hopes with simple yet powerful “no”.

,,No”

,,Even if I show this beautiful, tailor-made apron just for you?”

Your playful voice didn’t contradict your bright smile, when you pulled out a stunning, indigo apron with intricate gold design, which looked practically like his dorm uniform. Vil only hoped you hadn’t destroyed your uniform just to sew this for him. You better not.

,,I’m not baking with you potato. We will only get dirty, although I must admit that you did a fairly decent job with sewing this apron”

Vil’s indifferent voice and “tired of your antics” face didn’t cool down your excitement nor determination. His slender fingers gently touched the soft fabric, inspecting carefully your needlework as if he was looking for any flaws to pinpoint them.

,,It’s just baking, you won’t get dirty. I can assure you Vil”

You bluntly lied straight into his face, but from the raised eyebrow and disbelief written all over his handsome face, you knew Vil wouldn’t be tricked easily. He had seen you in the Pomefiore kitchen with Epel once.

Once was clearly enough.

Let’s just say, he entered in the worst possible time.

,,It’s way easier than anticipated”

You remarked and Epel only hummed in agreement, not stopping to sieve the flour. You were carefully peeling off the apples and then cutting them into small slices. Everything was going smoothly.

Well, until Epel sneezed right into the flour, scattering it around whole kitchen and well, you. You blinked, coughing when the white dust hit your face. It was all over you both. In your hair, lips, apron and even clothes. You looked so done when your eyes fell on the white as snow counter.

,,Vil will kill us”

,,Possibly”

You sighed and watched in fear when a smirk spelling a catastrophe crept on Epel’s rosy lips. He clearly entered the mood you were afraid of. You didn’t even have time to blink when he threw the cinnamon at you, which landed perfectly on your cheek.

,,YOU’RE IN IT APPLE BOY”

“WE’LL SEE ABOUT THAT”

Let’s just say Vil was concerned about the yells coming from the kitchen. When he labelled the voices as yours and Epel’s, he was more than concerned. Vil could never admit, yet he often was jealous of your friendship with fellow first year student.

However, Vil wasn’t ready to encounter the absolute mess he walked on. You were covered in flour, cinnamon and small apple pieces were scattered in your dishevelled hair. Epel wasn’t looking any better, in fact even worse. The sticky apple muss was smeared over his uniform vest and cinnamon was sprinkled all over his pale face.

The uniforms were wrecked, remarked Vil, mentally noting that you would need a new one.

You both hadn’t seen him, clearly too engaged in your small yet brutal war. You were determined to absolutely destroy Epel who was ferociously throwing food at you.

And that was the biggest mistake in your whole life.

You both turned around when you heard a rather loud splash of apple piece followed by an even louder and angrier yell which escaped Vil’s lips.

,,Oh shit”

Those were your last words before you embraced your death proceeded by long scolding and restraining order against Epel.

,,We hit you on accident and I swear this time I won’t be throwing food around”

You promised eagerly, while Vil only crossed his arms on his chest, eyeing you with suspicion written all over him. Maybe you won’t be throwing any food around, yet just the mere thought of baking wasn’t pleasant.

It was bound to get messy either way and Vil was sure you would accidentally spill something on you both or destroy his perfectly combed hair. He knew it. You’ve been the careless spirit who rarely payed attention to your actions. You, Epel plus kitchen were such a mighty combo that even Vil had to admit the power of destruction radiating from you two.

Besides, he was on diet. Vil didn’t want to torture himself with baking sweets that he wasn’t even supposed to eat in the first place.

Yet, didn’t you look absolutely dazzling in loose ponytail with lost strands adorning your face which was lit up by a bright smile? Weren’t you going to put all your efforts into creating something beautiful? Wasn’t that apron absolutely stunning and well-crafted as well?

Vil looked at your pouting face and he was slowly begin to give in.

Slowly.

All it took was the final push to get him to agree.

,,Well, I can always ask Epel if you don’t want too. We would make a healthy cake perfect for your diet”

You said, shrugging as if it really didn’t matter to you with whom you would be baking. Vil was quick to react. He practically snatched the apron from your hands, putting it on himself in span of few seconds. He passive-aggressively tied his hair into a perfect ponytail and stood before you, impatiently tapping his feet.

,,Well, I’m waiting potato”

Vil’s voice was practically dripping with annoyance and you could swear that you had seen jealousy flashing in his eyes. You giggled, clearly amused and pleased with his reaction. You threw your hands on his neck, burying your head in his chest. A tad confused and startled by your reaction Vil wrapped his hands around you, bringing you closer. A soft smile adorned his beautiful face as his hands gently run down your spine.

,,You’re so cute”

“I prefer handsome or dazzling, potato”

,,Naah”

You tiptoed and leaned in, staring at his violet eyes. You pressed your lips gently to Vil’s soft ones in brief kiss, before you quickly pulled away. Before Vil even had a chance to pull you closer again, you had already turned around and grabbed the flour.

,,Let’s start baking!~~”

…

,,MY HAIR POTATO, WHAT DID YOU DO ?”

,,It was an accident?”

,,NO, IT WASN’T”

You could swear you had heard a chuckle behind the door which sounded too similar to Rook’s voice, but you quickly dismissed that having a bigger and more grave problem standing before you.

Vil was….hmm….irritated wouldn’t be enough to describe what he was feeling.

He was furious.

Within the span of few seconds, you had managed to repeat the same Epel’s mistake, sending rather considerable amount of flour into Vil’s perfect hair and face. If looks could kill, then his piercing, icy glare would have successfully swept you from Earth.

You were dead anyway, so why not have your own fun in it?

If that’s how you were supposed to die, then may it be.

You gently pressed the spoon dripping with melted, dark chocolate to Vil’s cheek earning another yelp and glare from him. His hands even rushed to stop you, but you gracefully dodged his futile attempt. You giggled at the mere sight of chocolate smeared over his perfect skin.

,,Looks like you have something on your face, Vil. I think I should kiss it away”

Before Vil even started to offend you in potato, you pressed your lips to his cheeks, tasting the chocolate.

,,Disgusting”

Remarked Vil when you finally pulled away, yet his eyes and bright, playful smile told you otherwise.

,,Do it again, potato”

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

Just One Last Word

Summary: As children, she swore she'd become the greatest author in all of Asgard. Loki had his doubts.

Word Count: 4,360

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: Look who's back! I got this idea from a made-up fic title sent to me by an anon a while back and I just loved the concept so much I had to write it. What can I say? I’m a glutton for childhood romance and angst

Thanks for reading! :)

Warnings: Implied/referenced domestic violence/child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

The first time Loki heard about Sága’s extraordinary book was the day Lady Gudrun decided that the spring weather was just too lovely to ignore and took her literature students to give them their lessons in the gardens rather than the stuffy palace classrooms. He couldn’t quite recall what year they were—childhood seemed so long ago that all of his primary classes had melted into one amorphous blur—but they had to have been young because Sága hadn’t yet chopped off both her braids in the middle of arithmetic, claiming that they were too heavy to think properly whilst wearing them. No, her braids still hung at her shoulders, and as Lady Gudrun read aloud to them on the lawn, Sága was busy weaving dandelion flowers into their intricate patterns.

“This is going in my book!” she whispered to Loki with a grin. “In my book, all the girls wear dandelions in their hair.”

Loki frowned. “What book?”

“The one I’m writing,” she said, fiddling with another flower stem. “It’s going to be the best book in all of Asgard.”

He had been going to say that there was no way in all the realms she was capable of writing the best book in all of Asgard, but then Lady Gudrun asked them if there was something they wanted to share with the rest of their classmates, since they seemed to be having such an intriguing conversation by themselves, and Loki had shaken his head, blushing. Sága wasn’t bothered. She kept playing with her dandelions and humming softly to herself, some horrifically out of tune melody Loki was almost positive she was just making up as she went along.

Sága Svanhilddottir was a strange girl. One day she had just plopped her bulging crocheted bookbag onto the desk next to his, and she never really went away. There were plenty of whispers about her—her mother was an Asgardian noble who had run away to Alfheim to marry a man in the Elvish court, only to return nine years later with a child in her arms and no husband to be found. At dinner, Loki would overhear the noblewomen’s hushed speculations on what could possessed her to leave in the first place, and what prompted her return. How had the Elf bewitched her so? A love potion? A spell? Had she gotten with child and fled to preserve her dignity? But then why return? Was he unfaithful? Was she unfaithful?

Sága had her own story. She told Loki very seriously before class one day that her mother had come back to Asgard because her father had been turned into a dragon by a wicked witch and now every time he sneezed he spat out enormous balls of fire into the air, and that her mother was afraid that the next time he caught a cold he’d burn the whole apartment down. She pulled down her dress sleeve to show Loki her burn scar, angry red flesh that stretched from her wrist all the way across her shoulders—a scar, she explained, she had gotten when she had tried to give her dragon father a handkerchief.

Loki didn’t believe her.

“Witches don’t turn people into dragons,” he bristled. “My mother’s a witch, and she would never turn anyone into a dragon.”

“That’s because your mother’s a nice witch,” Sága explained impatiently. “This was a mean old witch, with pointy teeth and spiky hair, who hated everybody.” Ruffling her shorn locks (this was after the ill-fated math lesson), she bared her teeth in demonstration. “She was mad at my father because he forgot to bring her mousetail pudding for her birthday like he promised.”

“He—what?”

But Sága only waved him off dismissively. “You’ll have to read my book,” she said. “I explain it all there.”

Oh, that damn book. It seemed like it was the only thing she ever talked about, this stupid, imaginary book. Because it had to be imaginary. Loki had never even seen the girl hold a pen, let alone write a sentence. No, she was too busy prattling on about her wonderous book, this book that would one day become the pinnacle of Asgardian literature.

“Someday, they’ll be making students read my book instead of this nonsense,” she’d whisper to Loki as their teacher read to them in the front of the classroom. “It’ll be much more interesting.”

Or when he ran into her in the library, and she’d drag him to the shelf where they kept all the classics.

“This is where they’ll keep my book!” she’d grin, having the audacity to pat the dusty wood where the great authors of millennia long past rested.

And then there was that one time during one of the feasts, when he turned around to find her staring at him intently from across the ballroom, a studious expression on her face. He shot what he hoped was an intimidating glare at her, but she only skipped across the room to join him.

“What are you doing?” he asked sourly.

“Looking at you,” she said, grinning as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I need to remember how you look like, so I can put you in my book.”

Loki scowled. “I don’t want to be in your book.”

“Well, I want you in it,” Sága retorted. “And, since I’m the author, that’s all that matters.” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the dessert table. “Come on, Prince Loki. Let’s get some cake!”

Thor said that he must be harboring a crush on her, to seemingly hate her so and yet be constantly spending time with her. Loki nearly threw a fit when he accused him of such at the dinner table. He didn’t like Sága. She was strange and irritating and talked far too much and he wanted her to go away. He spent time with her because she followed him around, not because he wanted to! She was annoying. And weird. And …

And yet.

One day she wasn’t in class. Loki thought he’d be relieved—finally, a lesson where he could listen to the teacher without having to filter out her constant chatter. But … it didn’t feel right. It was too quiet—he hated the empty stretches of silence that hung over the classroom every time Lady Gudrun stopped talking. For some reason, it seemed even more difficult to focus without the familiar presence of his deskmate hunched over the table and picking splinters out of the wood with her fingernail.

The library was more of the same. Loki perused the shelves, gaze lingering on the spot Sága had claimed for her own. She was the only person he really talked to, he realized. Without her, the day felt hollow.

She was gone for the rest of the week. Her mother was gone too, and rumors began to fly that she had decided to take her daughter back to Alfheim to rejoin her mysterious husband. Loki couldn’t help but remember her story about her father the dragon.

Just when he was starting to fear she had left for good, one morning a ratty old crotched bag smacked the desk next to his before class started.

He scowled to mask his sigh of relief. “Where have you been?”

But Sága wouldn’t say. She only grinned at him from under her crown of dandelions. “I was working on my book. Why?” she asked. “Did you miss me, Prince Loki?”

Loki flushed bright red.

It was strange to think about now, with everything that had happened. At the time, Loki thought he would have fallen on his sword before he ever referred to Sága as a friend. And yet, she was not only a friend, but the closest one he had. She continued finding ways to spend time with him even after they graduated Lady Gudrun’s class—she’d track him down and ask him for help with her arithmetic, or to wish him luck on an upcoming test, or to tell him about a book she thought he’d like. Thor and his companions drove Loki up the wall with their merciless teasing, but their words couldn’t quell the odd sort of fluttering in his stomach every time she came running up to him clutching some new story against her chest.

“Is it your book?” he’d ask jokingly, even as he took the novel from her hands.

“No,” she laughed. “I’m still working on that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?”

Sága patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Don’t worry,” she said. “When I’m done, you’ll be the first to read it.”

She was pretty. Loki wasn’t quite certain when that happened. Sága didn’t really change all that much, even as everyone else grew and morphed into something resembling maturity. She continued cutting her own hair, keeping it messy and uneven and even shorter than his. She’d weave dandelion stalks into the shorn clumps and walk around in gauzy yellow dresses with cuffed sleeves that went past her fingers, looking like one of her fairy-story creatures come to life. It was generally accepted that she looked ridiculous, and Loki didn’t disagree. He just felt that she made ridiculous look good.

He noticed it when she came down to the sparring pit to watch him practice with his daggers. There she was, perched on the railing, beaming like the sun as she waved at him. She was pretty. Very pretty.

Loki turned around without waving back. There was a heat rising in his cheeks that he wasn’t quite sure how to address. He missed the target completely on his next throw.

He wasn’t the only person who noticed. The other boys his age were beginning to be quite drawn to Sága Svanhilddottir as well, although Loki suspected it was less due to actual interest and more because of her proclivity for disregarding traditional decorum. She loved to dance. It seemed every ball she was spinning across the floor in the arms of some new beau, giggling so loudly that her voice echoed down the hall. Loki hated the way they’d hold her, gripping her tightly to their bodies as if she belonged to them, but Sága didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. She’d laugh and whoop and make a show of it as they twirled through the song.

It might have made her popular with the young men, but older members of the court weren’t as amused. After all, such displays weren’t exactly becoming of an unmarried woman. But Sága didn’t mind that they whispered things like “promiscuous” and “loose” as she walked by. Unlike her fellow ladies, Sága wasn’t particularly interested in catching a husband. In fact, she once told Loki in no uncertain terms that she had no intentions of ever giving her hand in marriage.

“Marriage is horrible,” she said. Loki could barely hear her over the ruckus—it was Thor’s Nameday Feast, and such a raucous celebration was hardly ideal for intimate conversation. He thought Sága might have been enjoying the festivities a bit too much as well—she was swaying on her feet as she leaned in to speak. “You’re tied down forever to some person, and you don’t even know what they’re going to be like! Sure, they might seem nice, but who knows!” She hiccupped, and Loki found himself reaching out to steady her without realizing he was doing it, accidentally grabbing the shoulder he knew to be scarred under her sleeve.

Sága brushed him off. There was a bitterness in her eyes that made his chest ache. “I don’t want to get married,” she said. “I just want to have fun.”

He walked her back to her rooms that night. He had started doing that recently—partially because with the way she was staggering he didn’t trust her to be able to make it herself, and partially because the voracious looks some of her dance partners had been giving her were making the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.

Sága grinned at him when they made it back to her door. The dandelions in her hair were beginning to wilt. One was nearly falling off her head, held there only by a tangled strand.

“Are you going to kiss me, Prince Loki?” she asked.

Loki started. All at once, the fluttering was back. “What?”

“You’re my prince, aren’t you?” She was swaying quite a bit, but she didn’t look away. Her breath stank of wine. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss the lady goodnight?” She leaned forward as if meaning to demonstrate, but ended up falling right into his chest, giggling all the way. Loki caught her, hoping she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

My prince.

“I—I don’t think it would be very princely of me to kiss you right now,” he whispered.

“Maybe not,” she yawned against his armor. “But I’d like it anyways.”

Loki inhaled. I’d like it too. But she was drunk, practically incoherent—she didn’t mean any of the words coming out of her mouth right now, and he knew it.

And so, he helped her back up and through the doorway. “Not tonight.”

Sága perked up. “Tomorrow?”

She looked so childishly excited that Loki couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Sure. Tomorrow.” Maybe he had had too much wine as well, because the thought of such a silly promise exhilarated him far more than it should have. “You come find me and I’ll kiss you.”

They never spoke about that night again. Sága didn’t seem to remember it—when he ran into her the next day she was nursing a headache and a new idea for her book and wanted to ask him a question about the mechanics of water seidr. Loki didn’t mention it either. The whole thing felt much sillier doused in daylight. What, did he think she was just going to knock on his door and cash in a kiss like a raffle ticket? No, it was better that the whole thing just fade into obscurity. Loki told himself he was relieved that Sága didn’t remember his promise.

It didn’t stop his thoughts from racing every time he saw her.

What would it be like to kiss her, he wondered? Would she let him pull her close? Would she wrap her arms around his neck and run her fingers through his hair? How would it feel to press his lips to hers, to close his eyes and just drink her in as if she were the only thing that existed?

He wished he could find out.

Loki remembered the last time he saw her. Her father had passed away, and she and her mother were returning to Alfheim for his funeral and to clear up several issues regarding his estate. They weren’t sure how long they’d be gone, but Sága predicted that the legal affairs would take years to resolve.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to go?” she asked in a whisper the night before she was set to leave. Loki looked at her, huddled against the balcony railing besides him. Inside, the feast raged on, but in the moonlight the world seemed almost tranquil.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” he said slowly. “Funerals aren’t exactly joyful occasions. I doubt anyone ever wants to go to them.”

She was silent for a moment, staring across the gardens spread beneath them. “I was happy when they told me he was dead,” she said finally, voice hoarse. “That’s bad, isn’t it? You’re not supposed to be happy because your father’s dead.”

Loki wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t know much about Sága’s father—she almost never spoke of him, and Loki never asked—but he never could quite forget the stories she would tell when they were children, about witches and dragons and violent, fiery breath.

He inhaled. “I don’t think that’s bad either.” A part of him wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, but he wasn’t sure if that was right. “If he was a good father, you’d feel differently. But he wasn’t, and you don’t. That’s all there is to it.”

Sága only nodded.

The next morning was less somber. When Sága came to say goodbye, she seemed her normal, airy self, bouncing and bubbling over every small detail.

“Hopefully, by the time I’m back, I’ll have my book done!” she beamed. “And I’ll bring it back for you to read!”

“Well, in that case, I’ll be counting the seconds,” he drawled. Sága laughed, and he found himself gazing into her eyes. They were lovely, those eyes—warm, like liquid amber, brown and sparkling with mirth. He had never really stopped to think about it before, but she had to have the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

Perhaps he was staring too intently, because Sága had stopped laughing. Loki felt his cheeks flush. He was about to apologize when she threw her arms around his shoulders.

He was so thrown off by the embrace that he couldn’t really comprehend what had happened until after she had let go. It was a quick hug, spur of the moment and over as soon as it began. It meant nothing.

Still there was something in the air as Sága pulled away, something he didn’t think either of them had the capability to describe. She patted his shoulder, nodding as if in agreement with something neither of them had said.

“Goodbye, Prince Loki,” she said thickly.

He nodded too. “Goodbye, Sága.”

It was the last time he saw her.

Loki stared at the book on the table. He had told his mother that he didn’t want any more books—he was beginning to feel less like a person and more like a pity case with each shipment she sent in.

Enough with it! Just let me rot in peace.

And she had agreed. The flood of books had ceased.

Except for this one.

He hadn’t heard them come in to drop it off, which was concerning. Loki had always been a light sleeper, and that had increased a hundredfold by the time he had returned to Asgard. He wondered if they were drugging him.

The book itself was crisp and clean—freshly bound. He always used to like those books as a child, so new that the spine let out a satisfying crack as he opened them for the first time. Now, he was almost afraid to touch it.

The mossy green cover was unassuming. No artwork, no patterns, just the title and author in simple gold lettering.

Dandelion

Sága Svanhilddottir

Loki didn’t know how long he stared at it. The dungeons made it hard to keep track of time in general, but in that moment it felt as if everything around him ceased to exist. He couldn’t tear his eyes from it.

Damn. She actually did it.

Sága … when was the last time he thought of Sága? She seemed to exist in a different lifetime, a character in a story that had long since been shelved. He remembered her, though—a scrawny little girl on the grass, weaving yellow flowers through her braids.

In my book, all the girls wear dandelions in their hair.

He picked it up. It wasn’t particularly heavy, nor particularly thick—certainly nothing like the texts of old she had once proclaimed herself equal to. It appeared quite average, really. Maybe he wouldn’t read it. The whole thing was birthed out of a childish fancy, and he no longer held any appreciation for fairy-stories.

But who was he kidding?

The story was about a girl named Dandelion (Loki groaned aloud upon reading it, although such puerility was to be expected from an author who went about her days with weeds dangling from her hair) who lived with her mother and her beast of a father off in some nonexistent realm, far away from Asgard. While her father had not the form of a dragon, he certainly had the temperament. He spent the days raging about their household, ranting and raving at every little inconvenience until he’d worked himself up into a violent frenzy.

Her mother didn’t know what to do. She was alone in a strange land, having forfeited her freedom to irrevocably tie herself to this monster of a man. She had nowhere to go, no family to turn to. And so she grit her teeth and took the beatings and the curses and prayed for a miracle.

Of course, little Dandelion was too young to understand this. She didn’t know why her mother cried herself to sleep at night, nor could she comprehend the foulness of the words that her father spat into the air. She had never known anything else. And so, every night she sat upon her father’s knee as he brushed out and braided her long, silky hair and read aloud to her from his rotted old storybook. Dandelion loved those stories, of monstrous dragons and evil witches who feasted on rats and tarantulas, fair maidens locked away in towers and dashing princes fighting their way through bramble-choked woods to awaken them with a kiss.

She’d dream about those stories as she lay in bed, writing her own in her head to drown out the crashes and cries ricocheting off the walls on the floor below her. In her mind’s eye, Dandelion could see herself as the maiden, nose pressed against the window as she waited for her prince to scale her tower and carry her to safety.

He never came.

But she was not long for this way of life. One night, during dinner, her father in a fit of anger overturned the candle on the tablecloth. The fabric went up in flames. They spread fast across the table and caught on Dandelion’s cuff, setting her sleeve ablaze. She survived—her father was quick to come to his senses and douse the flames—but her arm was badly burned. It was at that moment that her mother had had enough. She took her daughter and ran for it.

After a long struggle to secure the funds they needed, they were able to book passage back to her mother’s home realm. There, they found sanctuary.

She found something else there too. There, sitting in the very back row of the classroom with his head hidden behind a book, was a real, living, breathing prince. Dandelion was entranced—she had always thought princes to be some mythical creature that existed only within the pages of storybook. And yet, here was one right in front of her, like the most normal thing in the world. He didn’t seem very princely. He just seemed like a boy, a quiet boy who preferred reading to conversation. Dandelion would have never known him to be anything else if her mother hadn’t pointed him out to her.

But she was curious, and so when given the opportunity to choose her spot, she sat down next to him. He was a strange prince. He’d argue with her about the stories she told, but that only meant he was listening to her. He’d say he didn’t want to see her when she bumped into him outside of class, but he’d still follow her down the hall when she turned to leave. He didn’t strike her as the dragon-slaying tower-scaling type, but that was okay. Dandelion liked him just the way he was.

The story went on. Dandelion grew up to the whooshing of letters slipped under the door—her dragon father, asking her mother to come back, to come home, promising that he was different and everything would be all right. There were times when her mother seemed almost swayed by his sweet words—she’d sigh and say that it would be nice to see their family safe and back together again and stare off into the distance as if remembering something other than the screaming or the fighting or the burning, as if she had forgotten the way Dandelion would wake screaming in the night convinced she could smell her flesh burning. It sent cold shivers down Dandelion’s spine. She began tossing the letters into the fire before her mother had the chance to read them.

She’d turn to her prince for comfort. He didn’t know about the letters, but somehow, he made her feel better all the same. He was light and safe and everything she needed—she always seemed to be laughing when she was with him. And when he laughed—something about that laugh made Dandelion’s chest feel awash with a lovely sort of warmth.

She was in love with him.

But Dandelion didn’t say anything about that. She knew he only saw her as a friend—a silly, trivial friend who he could tease and laugh with without having to concern himself with the solemnity of his station. If he knew how she felt … she could lose him entirely. Dandelion couldn’t face such a prospect.

Instead, she danced with everyone but her prince, drowned herself in wine and spent her nights in the arms of any faceless man who wanted her, all in some vain attempt to sway her feelings in another direction. It only made things worse.

But life went on. Another letter came in from the realm of her birth, written in a different hand than usual. Her father had passed in his sleep, it explained. At long last, the dragon had been defeated. Dandelion was to return home immediately. And so, she bid her prince a friendly farewell.

The fallout of her father’s death was horrifically complicated. She was his legal heir, but she had also spent a majority of her life estranged from him and she found his representatives unwilling to hand over control of his estate to her. It was years before she could come back. And when she did—

Loki couldn’t bring himself to finish it. He knew very well what “Dandelion” found when she returned to Asgard—or more aptly, what she didn’t find.

You’re my prince, aren’t you?

He wished he had kissed her.

#loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #just one last word #cozy writes

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