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namfinessed · 3 years

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a little bit of love - k.th.

genre : fluff, angst (3.5k+) (request for @ofrosesandteacups) thank you so much for requesting, i hope you like it :]

summary : there’s nothing that freaks you out more than love does.

masterlist

when you first met taehyung, you didn’t imagine how far you guys would come along, sure you liked him from how your friends described him and how he presented himself to the masses, but to come to a point where a day wouldn’t go by without you missing him even as he sat beside you, was beyond you.

you almost felt ridiculous for cuddling up even more to him just at the thought of him being gone for work the next day making him chuckle and gently pat your head. the tv played some old 80’s movie that taehyung loved and served as ambient music which was both romantic and full of yearning. just like the two of you sat in front of it.

“what’s got you like this?” he gestured to your arms that looked close to suffocating his torso but you didn’t weaken your grip, only burying your head in his chest even more.

“you’ll be gone all day tomorrow” you softly whined, your voice coming out muffled and just clear enough for taehyung to hear and he let out a sigh at your words. it was going to be so hard to go to work tomorrow, how could he possibly say goodbye to you for a whole 24 hours after you do and say the things you do?

“i promise i’ll make it up to you, we can go to dinner at that diner you like this weekend” taehyung offered, hoping that would lift your spirit up a little and you nodded happily, any time with him was perfect for you.

“deal” you whispered and before taehyung could ask you about which movie you wanted to start next, he heard your slow, even breaths fill the silence and he simply let a fond smile grace his face, as he shut the tv off and devoted his entire attention to watch you sleep. not in a creepy way, in more of a ‘you’re so fucking cute, i would die for you’ way.

and it was in that moment, your arms never losing their tight grip on him, your nose twitching ever so often in your sleep and your legs wrapped around his, taehyung decided that he was helplessly in love with you and that conclusion only solidified for him when he reached to kiss your forehead, he still felt his body erupt in tingles, these tingles that he gets whenever he’s with you haven’t died since the day, he’s met you.

taehyung was in love. and he wanted to shout it from any building in the world.

you kicked the blanket around your feet as you tossed and turned to avoid the sunlight burning your eyes awake, and with one final groan, you pushed yourself up to lay on your elbows as you cursed everything about the day when its barely begun. you saw taehyung’s side of the bed empty and sighed, you remembered how warm he felt last night, and how his voice put you right to sleep, your cheeks warmed as your mind travelled to how he promised you his weekend just so you wouldn’t be sad and your heart did a good old flip as you continued to think about him.

you heard yeontan yapping at your feet, waiting for you to give him all your attention and love, you gave the cheery dog a soft smile before scooping him up in your arms and letting him lick all over your face while you giggled and tilted your head away from his sloppy kisses, once he finally calmed down, you just buried your face into his fur and realized yeontan only reminded you more about taehyung.

this was going to be a long day without him.

you could feel your stomach drop a little at the sad realization and you deemed it so unfair that you couldn’t spend every minute of your life with hi-

wait a minute.

it hasn’t even been 8 hours since you last saw him so why were you acting like his funeral was tomorrow? why did you miss him so much when you were literally in his arms not too long ago?

your head snapped up as you caught yourself thinking that as your legs flung over the side of the bed, your eyes widened at your own thoughts. any and all romance draining out of your body, as familiar dread and paranoia took its place.

where was all this coming from?

the last time you felt like this, was in grade school, when you still wore a little skirt and tie, and sat at the bleachers as you watched your then-boyfriend with flushed cheeks and giddy eyes, play basketball, he would always take the ball, give you a cocky smirk and say, ‘this one’s for you’, only for the ball to always fall to the side instead of into the hoop. you would just give him an awkward smile and slow applause, maybe you should’ve taken that missed shot as a sign that your relationship would end in disaster.

because all the while you adored and gave him heart eyes, he would smile right at your face, only to send a wink and smirk to someone else over your shoulder.

and now, after all these years, you gave those same lovesick eyes to taehyung. and you could feel your palms getting sweaty just at the thought of your relationship ending the same way.

of course, you knew better, you’ve come a long way since school, done a lot of growing up, and now, you were confident in yourself and you were almost completely sure that taehyung never did that. almost.

but how much did you see? maybe you missed it at some point. you let out a loud groan and fell back on the bed with hair everywhere on your face.

fuck, you were royally screwed.

it wasn’t even noon and your mind was hell bent to make this your worst day.

how could you think of taehyung like this? sweet, kind taehyung, who’s giving you his weekend, taehyung who always kisses you on the forehead at night when he thinks you’re sleeping, taehyung who defended mint chocolate with an adorable pout on his face, taehyung who cooed and played with every baby he saw, taehyung who knew everything about you, the good and the ugly, and still stayed, and most importantly, taehyung who loved you.

he loved you, it was no secret. boy was as whipped as they come, and anyone with two eyes could see it and he didn’t have to say it to you for you to know, you just knew that he loved you, he trusted you enough to introduce you to his dog and that was a very big deal to him (you quote, ‘it’s like you’re meeting my parents’).

and that scared you, because holy shit, this man is ready to give you the world but would you ever be able to carry everything he gives you? were you ready to admit to yourself that you would give him twice the world he gives you because that’s how precious he is to you?

you aren’t ready.

and you don’t think you ever will be.

maybe you should’ve gone to therapy for your commitment and trust issues when you were still in university because you definitely regretted flipping the finger to your kind on-campus counsellor now (she was actually very condescending and forced you to talk about your problems instead of easing into it like a good counsellor would so fuck her but you were still on that train of hating yourself, weren’t you?). it was almost like you never thought your issues would come back to bite you in the ass.

whatever, you can push this under the rug like you always have. it should be fine, it’s the way you have always dealt with, push it under the rug or run away from it.

and you know how ridiculous your thoughts are right now, you couldn’t possibly run away from taehyung, because here you were, all dressed up in a baby blue dress with your hands occupied in three large bags of takeout food for the hardworking boys in the practice room in front of you. and yes, you also know how pathetic it is to be so scared of being in love with this man and then coming right back to him because what if he missed his lunch? (you just wanted to see his face and no, you couldn’t go an entire day without him).

you sheepishly poked your head in and saw all of them scattered around the room, their heads snapping towards the now open door and you quickly looked for your man in the crowd, only to find him already looking at you with surprise evident in his eyes and a confused but lovely broad grin on his face as he happily skipped to you, pulling you in and closing the door behind you, almost immediately enveloping you in a warm hug.

“what are you doing here?” he happily sighed into the crook of your neck, and you could feel your heart stutter a little at the clear joy in his tone. you pulled away from him to lift the bags in your hands up.

“thought that you could use some food” you tilted your head to look at everyone else, giving them a shy smile and bow, taehyung looking at you with those eyes that he seemed to always look at you these days.

those lovesick eyes.

“fuck i love you” he chuckled slightly, grabbing the bags from your hands and walking away to set them on a table, not noticing how wide your eyes have gotten or the panic in your face as he said it.

he finally said the words you’ve been both dreading and longing to hear, and in such a casual way, you knew he just said it in a playful way for all the food you brought in but that didn’t mean your heart didn’t drop to your ass when you heard them. you snapped out of your trance when your ears caught them call you in a chorus, ushering you over to them.

“everything okay?” he whispered just low enough for you to hear, making sure that it didn’t catch anyone else’s attention. and as much as you wanted to fall on him and tell him everything your mind was putting you through, you gave him a tight smile and nodded your head.

you quietly walked up to them and only spoke when you were spoken to, a little too lost in yourself, looking to the side when taehyung nudged your elbow a little. you were never this silent, you were always bubbling with things to say or you made some dry jokes about your own suffering that had the whole room laughing, but right now, you just weren’t you. and that worried him.

“of course, i am always okay” you let out a nervous chuckle slip past your lips as you said it, cursing yourself for the slight break in your tone.

you weren’t okay.

you weren’t okay at all.

and taehyung knew that.

you could tell he wasn’t convinced at all with your answer so you just sighed and decided to come clean.

“we will talk about this later, okay? it isn’t anything bad, but it isn’t necessarily good either” you rambled silently, and taehyung, though unconvinced and worried sick now, nodded in agreement, giving you a side hug and kiss to your temple making your heart wrench in place even more.

“you know i love you, right? and that you can tell me anything?” you knew.

that was the problem.

you fucking knew he loved you and you didn’t know how to handle that.

but until your inevitable discussion later, you just leaned in for a kiss on his cheek making his cheeks flush and hurt a little at the almost immediate smile that grew on his face.

“aw look at them being all cute” jimin cooed from where he stood, clearly not having noticed the prior tense environment around the two of you.

“i’m telling you, it’s the honeymoon phase. they’ll be at each other’s throats soon” jungkook snickered harmlessly, as the others argued that you both have been in this honeymoon phase since forever now and it didn’t seem to go away anytime soon. and you turned red as they all continued to tease the two of you, making lighthearted jokes at how whipped you were and you didn’t have it in you to laugh like you usually would.

with jungkook and everyone else around you, people who you have become so comfortable with, it was all too overwhelming, you fit in so well, almost too well and that was one more thing for you to worry about.

when did you start feeling so at home with all of these people?

and why did spending lunch with them feel so normal all of a sudden?

you usually had lunch at your workplace with your friends, and you wouldn’t say you enjoyed it very much, because most of the time, you all were too exhausted to hold fun conversations, so it was all a very monotonous routine. but now, with taehyung and rest of them, you could feel bubbling energy every second you spent with them and it just felt so perfect.

but did it feel that way for them? or were you just intruding on their normal routine?

after a silent excuse to leave to work early and way too quick of a goodbye, you left with an even heavier mind than the one you spent all morning with. and even if you thought you were being subtle, your sour mood caught the attention of everyone in the room who were more concerned than you thought they would be.

“are you ready to tell me what’s going on with you?” taehyung walked in your apartment to see you slumped on the sofa, eyes teary with your focus on the tv which played somber ending music to a show (you weren’t crying because of the show, you were crying because oh my fucking god did you hate being you at that very moment, you were wallowing in self pity and with thoughts that you’ll die alone and loveless with around 20 cats, you even placed an order for catnip and bed impulsively for a cat you didn’t even own). you were doing great, clearly.

you couldn’t delay this conversation anymore without hurting either of you two even more.

“huh?” you sniffed, turning to see him pulling his coat off while keeping his narrowed and concerned eyes on you, you have never heard that tone on taehyung or seen him so agitated in a while.

at least both of them were never directed at you.

he dropped down next to you on the sofa, pulling the large bag of chips from your arms and setting it aside before looking right at you, refusing to break eye contact, leaving you to be the one to break it off with a sigh.

“i’m going to need you to listen to me without saying anything for the next 10 minutes because this is really hard for me to talk about, and i am not even sure what my actual problem is, i just don’t feel okay and i think i’m going to explode any second” you rambled, clearing your throat awkwardly at the end and crossing your arms across your chest like you were trying to protect yourself from your own words.

taehyung had never you seen this vulnerable, with your red-rimmed eyes, quivering lips and a loose sweater hanging off your shoulders, refusing to look at him, instead focusing on the socks adorning his feet and voice coming out in quiet gasps and whispers that he could barely hear.

you looked so fragile, so close to breaking to him. and that broke him too.

“whatever it is, we will figure it out together” he softly let out, forcing your arms out of the hold it had over your chest and tenderly grasping onto your hands, it made you feel exposed, even more vulnerable than you already were.

“i told you to be quiet” you choked out in a groan, tears pricking your eyes and he immediately cooed, rubbing the back of your hands and assuring that you now have the complete room to yourself.

“you know how things are going so well for us? like we spend at least 5 days in a week together and we’ve introduced each other to our friends and we’ve spoken briefly to each other’s parents too?”

“yeah, we’re obsessed with each other god.”

“taehyung?”

“yeah?”

“shut up.”

“okay” he chuckled and gestured for you to continue, making you smile a little too.

“i just feel like everything is going so well, and i feel so happy, so comfortable, i feel like i’m at a place in my life that i’ve been running towards my whole life but now that i’m actually here, i feel…scared?” taehyung raised an eyebrow at the end of your sentence, but not questioning anything because you continued your worried rant.

“it’s like, everything about you and your life has fit in so perfectly with mine, even with your busy schedule and my pain-in-the-ass work hours, we somehow make it work but i’m scared that it will all just go away at some point and i’ll be back at square one. i’ve never felt like this before, i love you, a lot and i love everything about us, i’m so happy with how we are, i just need reassurance that we will stay like this for as long as we can be, that’s all” you let out a deep breathe you didn’t know you were holding and looked at him nervously, chewing your bottom lip and you were sure that you bit it too hard. your heart pounded so hard, it felt like it was going to escape the cage of your chest.

“first off, stop biting your lip like that, you’re going to split it open and second, i love you too and third, is that it? you’re scared that we won’t last?” taehyung looked at you in disbelief that you would even think that you could get rid of him as his hands tightened around your own.

“and that you will leave me for someone else” you sighed out, figuring that it was best to just lay it all out there while you’re at it. taehyung just looked down and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“you really don’t have a clue of how in love i am with you, do you?” you slowly shook your head at his rhetorical question.

“well, i guess i have to remind you. you have nothing to worry about when it comes to us, okay? whatever we are, and whatever we will become, i promise to try my best to always make it work for us, because just like you said, i love us and i love you. and if you don’t know what to do, we can figure it out together, i haven’t been in many relationships either, at least not meaningful ones so i have no clue but together, we can do anything, yeah?” he waited for your nod which came shortly after his words, you didn’t even realize you were crying until taehyung reached up to rub your tears away gently with his thumb, all while holding a soft smile to you.

“i love you, okay? and i am not going anywhere, i don’t want to be anywhere else so next time you feel like this, don’t suffer alone, come to me and we can either cry together or i can kiss your tears away, whichever works for you, though i would prefer the k-“ he was cut short when you literally threw your body on top of his, he immediately broke into a small giggle, reaching to wrap his arms around you too.

“i think you liked the kisses idea” he lightly teased making you laugh and mumble a low ‘shut up’ into his hoodie.

“do you promise? that we’ll try till we can’t?” you leaned back with glassy eyes and he smiled, nodding his answer.

“i promise, now you shut up and come back here” he pulled you back so that you would fall with your head nestled into his neck again.

“oh, one thing” he spoke up again and you let him continue.

“can you bring us lunch more often? because they all seem to love you more than they love me” he pouted a little, recounting how everyone rushed to ask him if everything was okay with you after practice was over and you smiled a little, feeling a little stupid for worrying so much about intruding on them.

“of course, as long as i get to see you” you jokingly blew him a kiss to which he reacted with an equally dramatic reaction, clutching his chest and scrunching his eyes shut, acting like he got shot and falling off the couch, the silence being filled with your loud laughs.

and that is how you end all your nights with him, filled with joy, and filled to the brim, with love.

turns out you didn’t need therapy after all.

but what were you going to do with all that catnip now?

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 7.1

"Don't make me say it again," Scaramouche warned. He conjured his catalyst once more, this time holding his palm out to you rather than charging at you.

"You want to fight? I'll make sure it kills you." Your eyes shone enough to further illuminate the entire room. Dottore made one of the Fatui agents note the brightness of your eyes in a notebook.

You didn't wait for Scaramouche to make the first move, and instead lunged at him. He evaded easily. Then he sent another bolt of electricity your way. You barely managed to duck in time, making sure to lower your weapon as close to the ground as possible to avoid shocking yourself again. You put your weight onto your hands and flipped yourself over, then stabbed at him the second you were back on your feet.

He's no Childe, you realized with widening eyes. I can beat him.

Childe leaned forward, his breathe hitching from the excitement. He itched to join the scuffle while Xiao kept his eyes focused solely on you. You performed his combo almost as flawlessly as Xiao did in past battles, this time being the one to pin the harbinger against the wall.

"How far do you want me to go, Master?" Your taunting angered the harbinger until a wild look consumed his face. "Is this far enough? Or do you want me to injure you? Tell me, what do you want me to do?" You hit the catalyst out of the air and it clattered to the ground several feet away.

Xiao marveled at your sudden change in personality. He had thought you were breaking, but maybe it was his own miscalculation?

"Since when did I give you permission to issue your own orders?" He threw himself at you and conjured his weapon once more. A fury of lightning strikes hit the air around you, but you were too quick in moving your polearm out of the way. The air charged with electricity, but it didn't do anything to you.

Well, except ignite a metaphorical lightbulb above your head. You sent a quick glance in Xiao's direction, but your attention was focused mainly on Childe. I don't need a vision. I can outsmart them. You slowly drew Scaramouche towards you until he was in the middle of the room again, then you charged at Childe.

"Huh?" It took a second for Childe to realize you were gunning for him and not Xiao. An excited smile played across his lips, and he let go of Xiao's shoulder. "I think I'll take this as an invitation." He summoned his bow and aimed a charged shot at your head. You ducked just in time, and it hit Scaramouche's catalyst. It exploded in a fit of electrical bolts and shattered across the ground. Childe cursed under his breath.

Scaramouche was beyond livid at this turn of events. "You--!" He turned his attention to Childe and was about to throw a punch.

"Now, Xiao!" You bolted for the exit as a precautionary measure.

"What?! NOW?" Xiao scrunched his brows together and glanced between the group of harbingers. He immediately began to concentrate a force of anemo around his feet, and the power slowly came to its crest.

"Wonderful!" Dottore cackled as he watched the two of you work together while Scaramouche and Childe were at each other's throats. "These were exactly the results I was looking for!"

Almost there! You nearly reached the set of doors when something pierced the back of your knee and sent you crashing to the ground. "Ngh!" Your fingers wrapped around Childe's arrow and yanked it out of your skin.

"--But unfortunately, this little performance is over," Dottore finished. One of his previously sleeping machines awoke from its slumber and shot a dart that landed in your shoulder.

"No!" You looked behind you to find Xiao also being effected by the wounds. "Xiao! Leave me! Go!" A fierce kick to your jaw shut you up.

Xiao bit through the pain and was near breaking the seal when a few portraits flared through his head of a small, purple-haired girl. Time seemed to slow down as he remembered her. I can't... His gaze slowly floated over to you. ...hurt you too...

.......................................

You woke up in your cell with your hands tied tight behind your back. "Dammit!" Your growl caught Xiao's attention, but he didn't dare look over. "I was so close--Wait. Why are you still here? I told you to get out. Xiao?" When he didn't look over to you, you wiggled your way into a sitting position despite the pain in your leg and scooted next to him. Unlike you, his hands were free. "Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"...I'm sorry."

"H-huh? What are you saying that for?"

Xiao leapt from the balcony of Angel Tavern and had just about reached to your hand when the portal closed and he was met with the empty night air. 'If only I had been quicker to hear her--'

The image flipped.

'Forgive me.' The Guardian Yaksha closed the little girl's eyes as he whispered an incantation. 'I will give you a second chance at life.' The purple-haired child mumbled something about herbs as she gasped for a decent breath of air.

"I..." You trailed off. I wasn't the only one? But he did something different that time...what was that? Some sort of talisman? "Xiao--" You shifted so you were positioned in front of him, and he lowered his gaze to avoid yours.

His eyes were part of an expression that was the saddest you've ever seen before. The confident, collected yaksha had finally revealed his vulnerable side. It never occurred to you that he had one to begin with, so you observed his precious state for a few quiet minutes.

"Was...she collateral damage?" Xiao didn't answer. "Hey. Could you please look at me?" He reluctantly gave into your request and raised his head, but kept his eyes at chin level. "What happened to either of us wasn't your fault. I'm not upset with you for not reaching me in time, either. What matters now isn't failures of the past; we are here together. You deserve to be free and happy. I'm more than happy to sacrifice myself so you can escape and live on without me. I mean, I'm going to die eventually anyway, right?" You leaned your head forward so your foreheads touched.

"You are my...companion. Even if you wanted to sever our connection, it would be impossible now. It's too strong, even without my blood connecting the two of us."

"Just because I'm willing to sacrifice myself doesn't mean I want to sever our bond. I've...never wanted to sever it."

"Hm?" His eyes finally met yours, and his saddened expression held a tint of confusion. "You never wanted to sever it? ...You...really are a difficult being to comprehend..."

"That's because I..." the words caught in your throat. "I..." Archons, why can't I get the stupid words out? "Xiao, listen," you took a deep breath to steady your racing heart as you stared directly into his eyes.

"Let me untie your hands," he interrupted the moment and gestured for you to turn around.

"U-um, okay." His fingers made quick work of the rope that had dug into your skin so much that the slightest brush of fingertips made you wince.

"There's something we need to discuss," he continued once you faced him again, eyeing the hallway to confirm that the bird device was completely out of the prison. "The others will be coming soon."

"Others?" The sudden change in topic made you want to kick yourself. There's no way you could gather up the courage to tell him again. "You mean Zhongli and Aether?" Why did he have to change the subject like that?

"Childe intentionally set out to hunt us down on the Tsaritsa's orders. I was woken by the fighting," Xiao continued to watch the door out of paranoia. "I passed out before I could be of use in battle, and didn't wake up until I was brought here. "Zhongli gave me a vision, a message while I was unconscious. He said he will return soon with help, but something about this is off. Something doesn't sit right with Childe."

"You think he might be helping us in some way?" You scoffed. "I'm not putting my faith in that monster."

"I'm not saying you have to. Just trust me when I say they'll be here soon. Don't lose hope, and don't sacrifice yourself for me." He put some distance between the two of you, and your heart shattered when you recognized he was emotionally distancing himself from you again.

"Right..."

.......................................

You decided to chase after your own confession once more a few hours later. "Do you have any desires, Xiao?" You absently traced the seal lines on the ceiling while you lay on your back.

"Desire?" The yaksha scoffed. "Do not judge adepti by your mortal ideals. I have no desire." He too lay on his back, with his arms folded behind his head as he stared absentmindedly at the most powerful sigil that was painted above him.

"That...kind of sounds like you're hiding something," you baited.

"Hiding? I'm hiding nothing. I just won't speak of desire to others. Do you mortals not have a rule about spoken wishes never coming true? Hm?" The cute way he upturned his nose at you brought a blush to your cheeks.

"T-That's not really the same thing...!"

"What do you mean that's not the same?!" He peered over at you when he heard a giggle escape your lips. It was light and airy, and he cherished the joy in your eyes when you met his. A small but unmistakable smile formed upon his lips. The two of you were grinning at one another, and a comfortable silence ensued as you continued to hold his gaze.

"Okay then, since you put it that way," you grinned to yourself and faced the ceiling once more. Xiao did the same. "Do the adepti ever fall in love?"

"Occasionally, yes." This prompted a side glance from you. "There is a half-human, half-adeptus in the Liyue Qixing. Ganyu."

"I think I've heard of her before." His recollection ignited a portrait of her within your thoughts.

"She is constantly faced with living between two worlds, both never quite having a place for her. She fought alongside Rex Lapis and I in the Archon Wars. But returning to your question, yes, there are occasions in which adepti will fall for mortals. I've never understood it myself."

"I see." You fell into a small silence as you dug further into anxiety. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

"No." The answer was way too quick for your liking, but Xiao continued. "I know nothing but death and destruction. Love does not interest me."

A weird feeling of vertigo hit you, and your eyes illuminated the cell a bit. "That's a lie."

"Huh?" Xiao snapped his head in your direction.

"Why are you lying to yourself? What are you lying to yourself about?" You weren't exactly conscious of the words spewing out of your mouth as if you were in some sort of trance while you gazed at him.

"I'm not," he defended.

"That's another lie. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, right?" Your eyes dimmed back to regularity.

"Tsk." Xiao resumed his previous position on the floor and grumbled something under his breath that you couldn't hear. "Then what about you? Has a mortal as strange as you ever come to love someone?" This'll get her to drop it--

"Yes, actually." You regretted answering the second the words left your mouth, and heat rose to your cheeks. "Er, I mean..."

Xiao received a pang of what he assumed was the human emotion of jealousy. How absurd that he had been reduced to human standards of emotions ever since he joined Aether's team. "You haven't mentioned them before," he commented. "Does this happen to be the desire you spoke of earlier?"

"U-um...yeah..." Your fingers fidgeted over your stomach, and you clenched the fabric of your shirt as you contemplated your next words. You made a conscious effort to refrain from accidentally praying or wishing for him to know who you were referring to.

"Don't worry. I'll bring you back to them safely." He rolled onto his side so his back faced you.

"I-I...!" Your eyes wavered at his back. I can't do it. I can't bring myself to tell him. Dammit, why does this have to be so difficult? He's right here. We could die any day now. So why can't I just come out with it?

...............................

Coming up: Manipulating ojou-chan. The yaksha bears his mask. A breached contract. A deal with the devil.

#xiao x reader #xiao #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shots #genshin fanfiction #genshin x reader

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underfell-crystal · 3 years

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~~Cetaphobia~~

Written for @kiokodoodles mermaid pirate AU! This one-shot will cover Harp's life from right before she got attacked by the orca mermaid to when she met Alkai.

TW: Blood, gore, injury, assault, being chased

'Don't stray too far from the island'

It was a simple rule, and one that had good reason behind it. There always seemed to be danger lurking around Seal Island, as Harp's home was creatively named. Harp was careful to follow that rule whenever she wanted to break off from her family while they were out searching for food.

But that was before Otaria and Mother had fallen ill. Father had to tend to Mother and Otaria, so that only left her and Hali. Hali was on the other side of the island where there were the most fish. Harp didn't mind. She knew she was quite absent-minded at times, and her sister was faster than her. Harp looked around, sighing. There were hardly any fish due to the currents this time of year.

Harp continued making slow patrols on the southern side of the island, her disappointment and frustration growing as several passes yielded hardly any fish. She only had two fish in her satchel, and it was making her anxious. What if Mother and Otaria didn't eat enough? She didn't want to think about that.

There.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. She turned her head and her excitement skyrocketed as she saw several fish disappear into the distance. Harp gave chase.

Gosh, why were fish so fast?! She'd only caught two more out of.... at least a hundred. It was frustrating, but at least she HAD a food source for tonight's dinner. She lunged again, snagging a third fish from the group, making it five in total. She bit the fish just below its head, making it stop struggling. She added it to her bag and turned- then paused. Something big was moving in the distance. Perhaps a larger school of fish? She swam closer, curious. Twenty feet later, she stopped swimming forward. There it was, fifty feet away.

It wasn't a school of fish. It was a half human, half..... half....

'Black and white, Harp. Remember that. If you see those colors, you swim away as fast as you can.'

Half orca. Harp gulped. Both of her parents had told her about how dangerous orcas were on their own, but this one was even smarter. It had a human brain.

It was just... floating there. Staring at her. Watching. Was it hungry? Stars she hoped it wasn't hungry. But just in case..... With slow, trembling fingers, she opened her bag and pulled a fish out, tossing it to the side. The orca mermaid didn't react, just kept staring at her with a creepy, too-wide grin. Maybe if she went slow....?

She slowly started to swim backward, but a moment later, the orca mermaid moved. It was FAST. Harp gasped and turned, swimming as fast as she could back to the island, but she knew she wasn't fast enough.

She knew he was getting close. All the fish had vanished. The island was still so far away-

Her back suddenly exploded in pain, and she let out a strangled scream as the water turned red around her.

Stars, it hurt. Her vision was spinning and white at the edges, and every movement sent waves of pain down her spine. She did her best to keep moving, but it hurt so much. She saw something big and dark coming at her from below, and she wasn't fast enough to move out of the way.

Teeth clamped down on her back and tail, piercing the skin easily. She didn't think it could hurt any worse. She was wrong. Her vision went completely white, and she let out a scream she didn't even know she could make. Her hands scrabbled at the orca's head, and she dimly remembered that eyes were generally weak spots for animals. She raised her hand, and with a scream of pain, she slammed her hand into the orca's eye, her nails tearing skin and cartilage. The orca was stunned and in pain, loosening his grip on Harp's tail just a bit.

Harp seized the chance to plant her hands against his snout and shove, his sharp teeth tearing through the skin on her back down to her tail- but she was freed. She didn't waste a moment. She took off toward the island and could sense the orca coming after her, making her panic spike. She had to hide! She had to get away! She remembered the strange hole in the side of the southern part of the island- mostly covered by rocks- that she'd never explored. She could only pray to the stars that the orca wouldn't be able to fit.

Her dark eyes scanned the shore frantically until they locked on a dark hole- indeed, mostly covered by large rocks. She took a deep breath and dove down, squeezing past the rocks and going deeper into the cave. The cave narrowed as she went, which relieved her immensely. He wouldn't be able to fit down here even in his human form.

Harp spared a glance backward and saw a single black, beady, hunger-filled eye staring back at her. A moment later, the opening cleared. Did he think she was stupid? She wasn't falling for that!

The water slowly grew red around her. She whimpered and hugged herself.

'It was a very close call', her Father murmured as he applied a green paste to the cuts on her back. 'You're not allowed out there alone ever again.'

Harp was fine with that. More than fine with that. But she wasn't fine with how achy and sore her body was. The green paste helped a lot, but the cuts still stung and it was still difficult to move. She still saw that spotted pattern and beady black eye whenever she closed her eyes. Mother, Otaria, and Hali were resting- Hali had exhausted herself chasing down food. Harp flinched as a spike of pain shot up her spine, and her father murmured an apology, rubbing the skin next to the cuts. 'Be strong, little one. You are a survivor. Remember that.'

Harp sniffed and nodded, finally allowing tears to gather in her eyes, turning and burying her face in her father's plain white tunic. She didn't want to go hunting ever again.

The journey to their new home was long. It took over a week to get there. Father smiled and told them 'It'll be worth it. I promise.'

She still had nightmares that she'd wake up screaming to, certain that orca had come back to finish her off. She couldn't go back to sleep after that.

Their home was quiet. Too quiet. There weren't as many souls there as there should've been. But... That was okay. She still had Hali and Father.

Hali was screaming, something metal embedded in her tail. Father was trying to pull her back, but whatever the metal thing was attached to was way stronger. Well, actually, she knew what the metal thing was attached to. A boat.

Hali and Father disappeared above the surface.

There was nothing left for her here. Her family was gone. The nightmares remained. She knew her mother and father had left a chest of keepsakes back at their old island. She had to find it. It was all she had of their once happy family.

Hunting was still hard. The constant paranoia about orcas lurking around made her so hungry. Hungry enough that she became desperate and snuck onto a passing human ship. She was certain she'd be found and killed. She hugged her coat close, reaching for the crate of vegetables.

There was somebody odd on the ship. They weren't human, Harp knew that much. They looked human, sure- but they smelled like.... something else. She didn't know what it was. They had pretty brown hair and an affinity for shiny things. They looked surprised to see her- like she'd caught them doing something wrong. Were they... not supposed to be holding all that gold?

A shout of anger made her startle, and she ran to the deck and leapt off, changing back into her seal form and swimming away with her precious cargo.

She kept running into that person. Always on different ships. Always looking for gold and jewels.

"I'm not sharing any of my gold with you."

The brown haired person looked irritated. Harp nodded. "I know. I don't.... want... the treasure. I.... wanna be friends."

They stared at her. "Uh....... no."

Harp frowned slightly. "Why?"

"Nunya."

"What's.... What's Nunya?"

"Nunya business."

Harp blinked at them. "What's business?"

They stared at her. "...... Oh you're serious??"

"Um.... why wouldn't I be?"

They pinched the bridge of their nose. "Look, lady-"

"Harp."

"Huh?"

"My name. It's.... It's Harp. What's your name?"

They turned away from her. "Pat."

Harp frowned again. "Pat..... Anyway, um.... Why are you pretending to be a human?"

They froze. Slowly turned and looked at her. "What."

"I-I mean, you're obviously not a human... So.... why-"

They were suddenly directly in front of her. Harp yelped and stumbled back as they loomed over her. "How."

"H.... How what....?"

"How. Did. You. Know."

Harp gulped. "Um....."

"Don't lie to me."

Harp watched their hand drift to the scabbard at their side. She looked up at them with wide eyes. "I-"

Their hand was on her shoulder, touching her coat-

She jerked away. "Don't touch me!"

They stared at her for a moment before scoffing and turning away. "Get lost. I don't have time for this."

Harp obliged, scampering out of the room, heart pounding in her chest.

Another ship. Someone was tied to the mast- Pat. Their head was bowed, which made her approach easier. She climbed up the side of the ship, changing into her human form and throwing on her damp dress. She saw a dagger laying on a barrel and grabbed it, wasting no time in hacking at the ropes.

Their head shot upright, and they twisted to get a good look at what was happening. They made eye contact with Harp, gaze widening in recognition. "It's.... you... What are you doing here?"

"Saving you."

The ropes fell away, and they turned to stare at her in disbelief. Harp fidgeted in place. "Um...."

There was a shout from the other side of the ship. "OI!! GET BACK HERE!!"

They both turned and saw one of the crew members standing there, looking furious. Harp and Pat looked at each other and bolted for the railing, leaping over and plunging into the water together.

"Alkai."

Harp sat up and looked at her friend. "Huh?"

They gave her a small smile. "Alkai. That's my real name. Nice to meet you."

(Alkai belongs to @mochamashi )

#oc short story #oc oneshots #sea theives #sea theives my beloved #harp #alkai #harp my beloved #mermaid pirate au

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

We've Got Tonight - Ch 3

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

Word Count: Ch 3 - 1637

In case you missed it: Chapter 2 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 3

One month is not enough time to get used to nights in the bunker, she thinks as she stares at the back of Dean’s door. It’s too sterile, too unnatural, with the quiet permeating every crevice and recess.

There must be some sort of muffling spell or noise cancellation technology… or maybe just really good insulation. She’s used to the chatter of customers, the ding of the door chime, the clatter of plates, and the sloshing of the dishwasher. She’s never had to listen to herself think this much before, and she freely admits she is not a fan.

It’s been about four hours since Dean stormed out. “I’m done,” he said, but she doubts she’ll have to wait much longer. Those last words he shouted before Castiel came in, the way he gripped her and she had to force herself not to cling right back, tells her they aren’t finished, either with their argument or each other.

Muffled footsteps, the only sound besides her heart beat and non-stop internal monologue, let her know moments before the doorknob turns that Dean is back. The door swings open, not with the angry force she’s expecting, but with the same weary resignation that bows his shoulders as he steps into his room and shrugs off his jacket.

His eyes meet hers for an eternity, then he deliberately takes two more steps forward and closes the door firmly behind him.

She’s in his arms without a moment’s hesitation, her mouth on his, devouring him with every bit of desperation she possesses. He tastes of scotch, and she can picture him sitting despondently at the local watering hole, glaring balefully at a single glass of liquor for hours.

His arms constrict automatically until she’s equally breathless from his embrace as she is from the kiss. Just when she thinks he may have to physically hold her up, Dean pulls away just far enough to stare hard into her eyes, his expression daring her to challenge his next words.

“We are not done talking. You are going to tell me every detail of your deal, whether you like it or not. And don’t think for a second I’m going to let you go through with it. Choices be damned, Andy, this isn’t just about you anymore, and you know it.”

She refrains from telling him how much of a dad vibe he’s giving off as she shoves his flannel from his shoulders and pulls his face back to hers, clenching a handful of his t-shirt in a death grip.

Neither of them is gentle as they remove clothing and stagger their way to his bed; she knows they don’t have the time to be, and he suspects as much but doesn’t say so aloud. Neither is willing to ruin their precious remaining moments together by bringing up something as distasteful as reality. Nails score flesh, fingers bruise limbs, even their lips come away with faint traces of blood from accidental clashes with teeth.

“How long?” he rasps, his lips ghosting over her sternum. Her nails dredge shallow furrows across the backs of his thighs as he pulls back before thrusting hard, driving her into his mattress. “How long have we got?”

She tugs his mouth down to her breast, hissing as his teeth scrape and tug. Her fingers thread into his hair, holding him in place, silently willing him to let the subject go. She can’t answer him. She’s had a month with him, and while she’d rather have something closer to a lifetime, all she’s asking now is two more uninterrupted, untainted hours.

If she tells him, then the shortness of their time becomes real, everything becomes devastatingly real. Here in the bunker that is far too quiet for her own peace of mind, she can pretend the outside world and all it’s insane occultists and apocalypses and demons and deals don’t exist. She can pretend it’s just her and Dean, and nothing else bad is waiting on the other side of the horizon.

And he’d try to stop her. And probably succeed. So, no. She can’t tell him.

It’s some time before both of them are sated enough to lie relatively still. She keeps her back to him, knowing if she looks in his eyes she is liable to spill every bit of information she has left, and she does not want a repeat of the scene from earlier. Once was more than enough.

“I’m waiting, Andy.”

We all have to learn to live with disappointment, hun, she thinks. Aloud, she sighs and pushes herself back until her shoulder blades press against his chest. She’s been cold since they first brought her to the bunker, and his warmth is almost enough to make her forget that she’s chilled to her marrow. She shivers, forcing a partition up in her mind to keep out thoughts of her impending departure. She’s going to wait until he’s asleep, then head out to make the last rendezvous.

Sunrise, Dean, she thinks, despite her best efforts. I’ve got til sunrise. We’ve got less than that.

Luckily, she’s had enough caffeine to give a draft horse the shakes, and he’s running on three hours sleep for the last couple of days, so he should pass out pretty soon. The last thing she needs is the infamous Winchester Interference with her plans.

With the confidence that comes from knowing she’s right at the end of everything, Andy rolls over and pulls Dean’s head down so his cheek rests between her breasts, cradling him like a child and stroking his hair just as she’s longed to do since he strolled into her diner and winked at her over a stack of pancakes. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t even pretend to resist, instead nuzzling deeper in her embrace, and that’s when she really knows she’s wounded him far more deeply than she should have been capable.

“It was only supposed to be a fling,” she remarks to the top of his head as she runs her nails over the base of his skull. He shivers, pulling the blanket over them up to his chin and sliding his arms around her waist. His shoulder lies on her stomach, its weight sitting comfortably against her belly. “The first time I met you, you declared your love for me because I brought you bacon, for God’s sake. At four in the afternoon. You were supposed to be a good time, Dean, one good night, and then ride on out of town like a good boy.”

“You’d already be dead if you hadn’t given me your number,” he points out. For once, his lascivious nature is dormant, and he doesn’t so much as sneak a stray lick or grope, despite his optimal position. She strokes her thumb down the side of his jaw, scrubbing over several days’ worth of stubble that covers his cheeks. He turns his face into her touch, sliding his nose against the sensitive skin under her breast, and then it’s her turn to shiver.

“Andy, before you do anything stupid, anything else stupid, I need to tell you...I need you to know that I...”

“No, you don’t,” she chides, cutting him off before he can choke out any more ill-advised words. She can’t hear them right now, they would break down every barrier and barricade she’s constructed to hold herself together for these last hours. And, anyway, he can’t possibly mean them. They barely know each other. “But you could. I think both of us might have, eventually. So, we have that, at least.”

Her ribs creak at the sudden tightening of his grip, and she squirms until he relents enough to allow her breathing to return to normal.

“It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

His words end on something that she would never in a thousand years tell him sounds like a crack. She silently strokes the velvety hairs on the back of his neck, waiting for him to finish clearing his throat.

“Don’t try to be the hero; it never works out for anyone involved, even the people you’re trying to save.”

“Don’t start with me, Dean Winchester. Here we are, having a nice moment, and I will not let you ruin the time we have left with arbitrary things like depth and honesty.”

The air system hisses soothingly in the background, but she won’t let herself be soothed. This time left is for him, she’s not fooling herself about that any longer. What does she have left but Dean, anyway? She’s got three, four hours left at the most, and this is how she chooses to spend them.

She rolls once more, pulling Dean underneath her until she lies atop him, flush from collarbone to ankles. He watches her, his face soft and open for once, golden and warm in the dim light of the little bedside lamp. His hands move slowly, reverently, to glide over the curve of her jaw and mouth, and she can feel the faint tremors that run through his hands. She kisses his fingers one at a time before lifting her eyes to his.

“No, you don’t,” she repeats, “But you could.” The world needs the Winchesters around a hell of a lot more than it needs her. And while she might make people happy, saving people and hunting things is the Winchesters’ family business. This is her only chance to make sure they and the world stick around long enough for that to keep happening. ...

Chapter 4

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bridgyrose · 3 years

Note

The Knight Ruby Rose sustained a life threatening wound. Only the feared witch Cinder Fall could heal her but it's a lengthy process. As the healing occurred, Cinder butters up to Ruby, offering the Knight a place by her side as her partner... and lover...

Cinder sighed and pushed Ruby back down onto the bed, jabbing a small needle into the girl. “You need to keep resting.”

Ruby frowned and winced as she felt the needle in her arm. “And I said I was fine. I need to get out there and defend the kingdom-”

“The only thing you need to do is sleep.” Cinder walked away from Ruby, grabbing a few herbs to crush. “You’re lucky that arrow missed your heart.”

Ruby sighed and laid back down, looking up at the ceiling of the hut. “How… how much longer am I going to have to stay here?”

“However long it takes for that wound to heal. I havent seen magic like that in years.”

“So, no chance of leaving in a few days then?”

“Could be days, could be months, maybe even years.” Cinder looked up from her pestle and mortar, grabbing a bit of honey and water. “What is it with you knights and wanting to get out into battle all the time? A healthy dose of fear might keep you all alive…”

“Are all witches like you? Nagging and-” Ruby quit speaking as she felt her voice leave her throat, hesitating as she gently felt it.

“You better watch your tongue, knight,” replied Cinder, glaring at the young knight. “There’s a reason your kingdom fears me, and I have no problem showing you why. Now, if I give you your voice back, will you behave?”

Ruby silently nodded.

“Good.” Cinder waved her hands in a few gestures, muttering a few words under her breath. “Speak.”

“I… I’m sorry.” Ruby slumped in her bed, letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m tired of lying around. That's all I’ve been doing for a week.”

“You should’ve thought about that before getting shot.”

“If I hadnt gotten in the way, then Weiss-”

“Yes, yes, your precious mage would be dead, I know.” Cinder moved her hair out of her eyes for a moment before going back to work on her healing salve. “Is that really all you care about? Throwing your life away for a woman who doesnt acknowledge you and a kingdom that will replace you?”

Ruby went silent, taking in Cinder’s words. There was a bit of truth to it all: Weiss never did acknowledge the feelings that Ruby had for her, and even her kingdom was willing to send her on the front lines to slay the grimm that terrorized the villages.

Cinder walked over to Ruby, taking the salve and rubbing it on the wound. “Honestly, I dont get what you see in her. She’s frigid, she never gives you the time of day-”

“I get it… you arent fond of her.”

“I’m not fond of anyone. That’s what happens when you’re beaten for accidentally killing a friend.”

Ruby paused for a moment. “You… killed your friend?”

“Like I said, it was an accident.” Cinder sat the bowl down and started changing Ruby’s bandages. “I was orphaned and taken in by a stranger. I never knew where I came from or what kind of abilities I’d have. The day I found out I had magic, was the same day I accidentally hurt my best friend. We… had a fight. Sure, we were just kids, but words were said that can never be taken back. Then, I felt a power rising inside of me. It made me feel… like I could do anything. A few words raced through my mind and I spoke them aloud. Next thing I remember was smoke coming from my fingertips and my friend was burned. She lived for another three days until she couldnt anymore. The village took me to the local knights and had me beat for killing with magic.”

“I… I didnt know…”

“I didnt expect you to. You know just as well as I do that in your kingdom, magic is feared. Yet, there are still a few who are allowed to study those arts as long as they serve the king. And those of us who are never given the chance have to find our own way to live in this world. And some of us gain reputations for protecting ourselves.”

Ruby slowly nodded and put a hand on Cinder’s. “Maybe I can put in a word for you to become a royal healer-”

“I cant.” Cinder finished with Ruby’s bandages and went outside to tend her flowers. “Now rest so the salve can do its work.”

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

Ruby aimed her bow at a nearby rabbit, wincing as she drew an arrow back. She had been resting and healing for almost a month, and she still couldnt fight. She slowly lowered her bow and sighed, falling onto her back and looking up at the sky.

“I told you that you’d have to wait a while longer.” Cinder walked over, setting down a basket next to Ruby. “Eat.”

Ruby sighed and picked up one of the fruits. “And how much longer is that?”

“Judging by the scarring on your chest, I’d say about another week. Then, you can go back to the kingdom and start fighting again.”

“And… if I dont want to?”

Cinder looked at her curiously. “And why wouldnt you? Afterall, didnt you say that your battalion is useless without you leading them?”

“They are, but it seems like they’re moving on with another leader.”

“So, what? You’re going to retire?”

“Retire from being a knight, maybe. But I’m thinking about becoming a mercenary now. Maybe stick around here a while longer.”

Cinder smirked a bit, sitting down next to Ruby. “Finally taking up my offer on helping me, are you?”

“Finally taking up your offer on being by your side.” Ruby laid back down, taking a bite of the fruit in her hand as she looked up to the sky. “Maybe you’re right and there’s more to life than being a knight for a king. And maybe you can show me all the places you’ve been.”

“Stick around me for too long, and people will start fearing you the same way they fear me.”

“Then let them. I still have my friends, and I have you.”

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #cinder fall #drabbles #knight au #cinder x ruby #fallen petals

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aethersea · 3 years

Note

May I request 41 - First Kiss and 94 - Hair Brushing/Braiding for the Leverage OT3, please? (Also extra bonus points if you give Eliot beads in his hair like in The Ice Man Job, because we didn't get NEARLY enough of that in the show) Thank you!

I cannot believe I wrote this whole thing out and then never published it. I’m so sorry, it’s been at least twenty-four years since you sent in this ask, please accept my humble apologies and also this ficlet.

However, this prompt is just pure fluff, and I hate to tell you this but I am not a fluff writer. I just can’t pull off that unadulterated sweetness. I am in this fandom for the shenanigans, first, last and foremost! So this fic is now a 5+1 of Eliot and Parker trying to seduce Hardison.

1. Parker thinks they need to give him gifts, so she goes through her stash and picks out the largest, fanciest jewel she’s ever stolen. Then she realizes: Hardison likes stories. He spends hours giving their aliases histories and pets and allergies and favorite foods, he can get a whole sordid history of jealousy and betrayal from a single corporate email chain, and Parker knows for a cold fact that he writes little stories with his online friends about being wizards together.

She goes through her stash again and picks out the most cursed thing she’s ever stolen.

It’s a jeweled statuette, almost as tall as her forearm, made of gold and studded with precious and semi-precious stones. Mysterious deaths have befallen five separate owners of this thing. Its base is dented from the time it was used to bludgeon Owner Number Three to death. The tiny rubies it has for eyes follow you across the room.

Parker puts a bow on it and leaves it in Hardison’s room while he’s sleeping. He wakes up to this horrible little statue watching him from his bedside table.

He texts the group chat, Hey did anyone put an evil little gold guy in my bedroom last night? But Parker chickens out and says nothing (drunkenly betting Eliot that she can seduce Hardison is one thing, but admitting that she likes him is something else altogether). Everyone else texts back variations on “nope.” (Except Sophie, who just sends back a string of heart eyes emojis and a wikipedia link. She loves cursed artifacts.) So Hardison puts the statue away in a closet somewhere and figures he’ll deal with it later.

Parker is mildly offended that he put her gift in a closet. She goes into his room the next night and puts it back on the bedside table, where it clearly belongs.

This goes on for a week. Hardison puts the statue in a desk drawer, then in one of the cabinets in the office downstairs, then in the dumpster down the street. Every day he wakes up to those glittering red eyes watching him sleep. He’s asked his internet buddies if anyone knows a good exorcist. Hardison doesn’t really believe in curses, but also? What the fuck. What the fuck.

2. Eliot assumes the drunken bet will be forgotten by morning. What kind of world would it be if people always followed through on promises they made while they could barely stay vertical? So he spends the morning nursing his hangover and cleaning his knives. Cleaning guns is no good while hungover—all the snaps and clicks of popping things in and out of place sound like actual gunfire when you’re hungover, it’s a nightmare—but knives are quiet and have no moving parts. Buffing and polishing them is soothingly repetitive work, and every once in a while he can throw one at one of the dartboards on the walls and reassure himself that his reflexes are still sound even after that much tequila.

It’s only when he gets Hardison’s text about the golden statuette that magically appeared in his room overnight that Eliot realizes Parker’s actually going for it. After some internal debate about whether he’s going to stoop to this or not, Eliot decides what the hell and starts making plans.

Eliot agrees that gifts are the way to go, but not stolen gifts. Not things. Anyone can give a thing. Proper wooing is about giving experiences.

Eliot plans for three days. On the fourth day, he and Hardison have their irregularly scheduled monthly coffee date, and Eliot texts him beforehand to say he wants to do it at the brewpub this time. Hardison arrives to find a deceptively simple meal: basic country fare perfected through years of experimentation, made with the best ingredients Eliot can get his hands on. And Eliot, after all, is still a retrieval specialist. There’s very little in the world he can’t get his hands on.

And yet the night ends and somehow he has not gotten his hands on Hardison.

This is just not right. Eliot knows how to deploy a smolder, okay, Tangled reference aside he is damn good at flirting and he knows the looks he’s giving Hardison are clear as day. It’d be one thing if Hardison had turned him down, or if he’d been uneasily unwilling, or even if his eyes had widened slightly in suppressed panic and he’d abruptly found a reason to leave. Eliot can take rejection, bet or no, and he’d have bowed out graciously without a fuss. But this was much, much worse.

Hardison didn’t even notice he was flirting.

He’s going to have to up his game.

3. “How do you seduce people?” Parker asks bluntly, turning up at Sophie’s door just past midnight.

Sophie, despite the hour, is utterly delighted by the question.

This goes as well as you would expect.

4. Eliot’s taken a lot of dates to sports games. Hardison may prefer sparkly elves with purple lightning magic to a decent MMA fight, but baseball is the American pastime. Eliot gets them perfect seats, hot dogs from the best vendor in the stadium, even chilled beer that he smuggles in without letting it get warm. It’s going to be a perfect game.

And it is. At first. Hardison, it turns out, has a lot of opinions about baseball. What he does not have is an understanding of the rules. They’re not even into the second inning by the time Eliot finally snaps and starts arguing with him about it.

They make it all the way to the fifth inning before Eliot realizes that Hardison’s basing his complaints off the rules of a game from a Star Wars novel.

They’re at the bottom of the eighth before Eliot will speak to him again.

5. Eliot and Parker are drunk again. This is not intentional. They didn’t even mean to come to this bar, but the smoothie place with the fried oreos that Eliot had brought Parker here to try was playing such incredibly bad music that they’d ordered the oreos to go and fled. The bar was just the coziest looking place on the block, and of course they’d ordered drinks to avoid being rude––Eliot had entertained himself for a few minutes scouring the menu for something that would pair well with fried oreos and popcorn chicken.

And now they’re drunk. The conversation has, perhaps inevitably, turned to the ongoing bet.

“I tried everything!” Parker wails. “I laughed at every joke, I touched my hair constantly, I got him talking about things he likes.” She thunks her forehead on the bar. “All that happened is now I know the complete history of orcs in western literature.”

“Hardison wouldn’t know flirting if it pinched him on the ass,” Eliot grumbles.

Parker slaps his arm. “No pinching Hardison!”

“I’m not going to—I don’t pinch people!”

Parker’s ignoring him. Eliot pouts and takes another sip of his drink. He’s not entirely sure what this one is––it’s blue and kind of fizzy, that’s all he can say for sure. Parker took over the drinks menu several glasses ago, and she’s been picking them based on what has the most fun name to say. Eliot’s pretty sure the alcohol content’s been doubling with each order.

“Eliot,” Parker slurs, “we need to work together.”

“What?”

Parker lifts her head from the bar and frowns at him, the way she does when she’s figured out the obvious solution and is just waiting for everyone else to get on the same page. It’s adorable. It’s always adorable, but right now her eyes are wide and slightly unfocused from the alcohol and she’s listing sideways a little, almost as if she’s unbalanced, and it is the most adorable thing Eliot has ever seen. Parker’s never unbalanced, but some part of Eliot’s fuzzy brain thinks she’s about to fall on top of him and cannot wait to catch her.

“You can’t seduce Hardison,” Parker points out. Eliot is drunk enough to get offended by this, but too drunk to get out a complaint before she continues, “I can’t seduce Hardison. But if we work together, the two of us can definitely seduce Hardison. Together.”

Eliot stares at her. Then he takes another sip of his fizzy blue drink. Later, when questioned, he will blame his next words on that drink.

“Worth a shot.”

They take Hardison to a movie. They research for three weeks beforehand. They find the best movie theater in town, with the nicest seats, the biggest screens, and concession snacks that Hardison likes, and they buy tickets for the midnight premiere of the superhero movie that Hardison hasn’t shut up about for the past month. Parker even hacks into the theater’s computers in a last-minute fit of nerves and cross-references the credit cards with drivers’ licenses to make sure the people sitting in front of them won’t be too tall.

Parker witnesses a kidnapping in the parking lot while the boys are getting popcorn. They don’t even stay long enough to catch the commercials.

+ 1. “Hey Eliot,” Hardison says during movie night, a little over a week later. “Remember the Ice Man Job?”

Eliot groans. “I try not to.”

Hardison throws a piece of popcorn at his face. “Shut up. Remember how you did your hair for that one? With the little—those little beads on, like, a braid?”

Eliot shoots Hardison a suspicious glance. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Teach me how to do that.”

Eliot shoots Hardison another, more deliberate look, this one pointedly directed at Hardison’s complete lack of braidable locks.

Hardison rolls his eyes as if that’s a silly detail to get hung up on and leans forward to dig around in one of the boxes he has under his coffee table. He emerges with a ziplock bag of plastic beads in no time flat and hands it triumphantly to Eliot. Then he yanks a few cushions out from behind Parker, who’s sitting on his other side, and puts them on the floor in front of him. “Sit here?” he asks Parker, patting the cushion pile.

Parker takes a moment to consider being offended at having her cushions stolen, but curiosity gets the better of her and she just plops down between Hardison’s legs, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she goes, and waits.

Hardison lifts her hair with sudden gentleness, drawing it over her shoulders and letting it fall down her back in a golden wave. His fingers brush against her neck. Parker shivers. Eliot is distantly aware that he’s gone perfectly still, focused with a hunter’s intensity on Hardison’s dark, graceful fingers carding through Parker’s hair.

Hardison leans back, hands on his knees, and Eliot breathes again. “Well?” Hardison looks over at Eliot, a tiny smirk of challenge on his lips. “Show me how it’s done.”

Eliot is suddenly, brutally aware of how close they are. Hardison’s couch is obscenely comfortable, which is half the reason movie nights are at Hardison’s in the first place, but it is not large. Their thighs are touching. Hardison leans away, to give Eliot access to Parker’s hair, and he’s still so close that Eliot would barely have to reach out a hand to—

Eliot ruthlessly shoves that thought down into the dark where it belongs. He dealt with this, he dealt with this years ago, and accepting Parker’s stupid bet doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the way Hardison and Parker look at each other. It just means he doesn’t mind losing for a good cause.

So he keeps his tone steady and his fingers brisk as he shows Hardison how to braid the clunky plastic beads into Parker’s hair, and if he flushes with heat when their hands brush each other, well, nobody has to know. He’s been trained to withstand eight different schools of torture. It won’t show on his face. His voice never once falters.

Parker has had no such training. Her lips have parted, and her breathing is shallow. She’s staring glassy-eyed at the TV. Hardison can’t see her face, sitting behind her, but Eliot watches her carefully, worried that they need to call this off. Parker’s not used to intimacy, to closeness that means something, and for all the three of them have spent half their movie nights literally on top of each other, this is something else. This has weight.

Eliot puts a hand on her shoulder, pressing down just enough that Parker startles and cants a glance over at him. Eliot raises his eyebrows in question, and Parker glares back: don’t you fucking dare. Eliot backs off. Hardison, frowning in concentration as he threads a wisp of Parker’s hair through a green bead, graciously pretends he didn’t see the exchange.

Hardison gets the hang of the beading fairly quickly, and Eliot shows him a few different techniques. He’s almost managed to convince himself that nothing is actually happening when Hardison says, conversationally, “You two are really bad at this.”

Eliot glowers his confusion. “At movie night? You started this, if you wanted to actually watch Alien then you shouldn’t have—”

Hardison’s smile is soft, but Eliot decides for his own safety to focus on the laughter at its edge. “No, at this.” And then he slides his hand onto Parker’s neck, caresses her cheek, and isn’t the slightest bit surprised when she gasps.

Parker whips around, and there’s hurt on her face but it dies in the glow of Hardison’s gentle, unteasing smile. Hardison pulls her up with the lightest of touches, and she goes, eyes fixed on his like salvation.

They kiss sweet and slow, and Eliot’s heart twists in his chest and he can’t breathe. He needs to leave now before he shatters in half, but if he moves then they will look at him, and he would rather never breathe again than meet their eyes right now.

Hardison breaks off the kiss, gazing at Parker with something just this side of wonder, and then he does look at Eliot. Eliot flinches. He opens his mouth to…say something, make some joke or hasty excuse and scramble out the door, but Hardison raises a hand to Eliot’s face, slides his long fingers to cup Eliot’s neck, and pulls him forward, as gently as he did Parker.

It’s a chaste kiss, no more than a soft press of lips, because Eliot is too stunned to respond and Hardison doesn’t push. It lasts a long time. A whole era of change happens in the span of that kiss, as everything Eliot thought he knew tears out of place and then settles, gingerly, into a new understanding.

Hardison pulls away, his hand still warm on the back of Eliot’s neck. His smile is pure sunshine. Eliot finds himself smiling back, helpless.

Hardison’s grin turns smug. “And that,” he says, looking between Eliot and Parker, “is how you do it. Y’all are disasters, honestly, I can’t believe two master criminals working together couldn’t manage a single real date—”

Eliot heaves a deep sigh and drags Hardison into a headlock, pinning his arms when he flails. Parker surges to her knees and starts tickling him mercilessly.

They don’t finish the movie.

#finx writes #I didn't quite get Eliot's hair in there but I hope this works anyway #leverage #leverage fic #leverage ot3

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be-your-fantasy · 4 years

Text

~ Loved ~

Reader x Chan (couple) + the rest of Victon being sweeties 💗

Genre: Fluff + slight angst (stress from work)

Warnings: none Word Count: 1,800

The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard through the hall, you were finally off of work for the week and what a week it had been. Aggravation, stress, and fatigue placing heavy weights on your shoulders, ready to break you. You hated crying in public, but you couldn't help the tears that escaped your eyes and rolled down your cheek. The bright light at the end of the week was always dinner with your boyfriend Chan and his group members, but you didn't want them seeing you like this, you stood outside the front door to their dorm to try and collect yourself before going in. Your breathing steadied as you entered the code and turned the handle, you were greeted with the faint smell of burning food and a commotion coming from the kitchen.

"SEJUN!" Came a half-hearted yell from Subin followed by laughter from them both, you couldn’t see what was going on from where you were but you were already quite familiar with the cooking shenanigans that happened when they were all in the kitchen together.

You would normally be helping them make dinner, well, helping Seungsik keep the others from burning down the kitchen more accurately, but when you texted them that you were stuck at work late they decided to get started to surprise you with dinner hot and ready.

Before you could put your bag down, the face you love so much peeked around the corner.

"Hunny!" Said Chan with a bright smile on his face, rushing forward with arms wide open. His strides slowed to a shuffle and his shoulders began to fall though as he was now close enough to see your face clearly. The tears may have stopped but he could see your puffy and blood shot eyes, red nose, and forced smile. 'Heo-caron' was very familiar with this face.

"Y/N are you ok? What happened?" He said as he cupped your face with warm hands, bringing his face down to meet yours. His expression deep with concern. You were really hoping he wouldn't ask that question, you had already been fighting back the flood to come and his question prompted the dam to break. You began to sob as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You began to hear the fuss in the kitchen settle down and quiet footsteps shuffling closer.

You tried desperately to steady your breathing once again as Chan brought his hands back to your face, running his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe the tears away. As your eyes began to clear you could see 6 familiar faces just over Chans shoulder, standing a little ways back, faces filled with confusion and concern. You had known them all for quite some time now but this was the first time the other members saw you cry.

"Do you want to go lay down?" Chan asked you quietly, you gently nodded your head while choking back your overwhelming emotions, feeling them claw their way up your throat. He tucked you under his arm and headed for his bedroom.

Chan brought out some of his clothes for you to change into, he knew you loved wearing his clothes and his immediate goal was to make you happy again. He helped you change before pulling you onto the bed with him, pulling your favourite fuzzy blanket up to your shoulders. You rested your head on his chest and snuggled deep into his side, moving gently with the rise and fall of his chest, your tears dampening the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He didn't press you for answers, this wasn't the first time he'd seen you cry and knew that you would talk about it when you were ready. Chan gently rubbed your back as he placed sweet kisses on the top of your head, quietly whispering how much he loved you. The mood outside the bedroom door was decidedly different however.

The 6 men looked at each other quietly, unsure what to do. You had become family to them, you may have only been dating Chan, but that means you also adopted 6 other precious humans into your life as well. From lighthearted fun like karaoke night and painting each others nails, to staying up late and night talking endlessly until the sun came up, and who can forget all the snuggles. You and Chan were very comfortable in your relationship and Chan was not the jealous type, he trusted both you and his members so snuggles were as normal with you as they were with any of the other members.

Without a word Seungsik turned toward the kitchen, turned the stove back on and continued cooking in silence. The others just looked at him, unsure of what to do next.

“I’m sure she’s hungry, let’s do what we can to cheer her up.” Seungsik said without raising his gaze from his task, his cheery disposition now changed to one of focus. The others quickly followed suit, now with a mission before them. Sejun and Hanse decided there was enough help making dinner already and made their way to the front door.

“We’ll be right back!” Said Hanse with a smile before slipping on his shoes and following Sejun out the door in a hurry. Their hasty exit prompted a quizzical look from Byungchan who peered around the corner at them as they left, followed by a shrug and returning to his task at hand.

Subin and Seungwoo kept finding themselves distracted however, it was really hurting them to see you so upset, as it was for everyone. Seeing you crying reminded them of their own sisters and the hurt they felt seeing them upset. Subin was the first to leave his task and grab his phone to text Chan, after some time of no response he decided on a different tactic. He grabbed some paper and a pen, he wrote ‘Is she ok?’ on it before sliding it under the bedroom door and gently knocking. He didn’t want to open the door and intrude so he felt this was the next best thing. He squatted down in front of the door hugging his knees, waiting patiently for a response.

You and Chan looked up at the noise, you had calmed down quite a bit at this point, the torrent of tears now just a gentle trickle. You knew that you had worried them, you certainly didn’t mean to, you knew how much they loved and cared for you. You reminded yourself that you were safe with them, safe to share your emotions and lean on them when you needed to, just like you had done for each of them so many times before. You and Chan walked to the door, he grabbed a pen on his way, he sat on the floor and placed you in his lap, giving you the pen to respond if you were ready.

Subin heard the footsteps coming closer to the door and watched the bottom of the door intently. He saw the paper emerge from under the door, being pushed by your fingertips. Your response written underneath his question.

‘I will be ♡’

Subin smiled, this little reassurance he needed fueled him to return to his task, paper in hand placing it on the kitchen counter for the others to see. A warm smile and renewed focus was shared among them as they finished up.

Before long Byungchan was grabbing the serving bowls, placing them on the counter in a row to serve dinner. Just as they were finishing the last plate the sound of the front door could be heard and Hanse and Sejun appeared triumphantly with bags in hand.

“What did you get?” said Seungwoo as he came closer with hands open to help take the bags.

“Well, we just grabbed what we thought Y/N would like. So we have cupcakes for dessert, a plushie, some candy...” Sejun continued to explain before being cut off abruptly by an excited Hanse.

“Don’t forget the candle!”

“Ah, yes we found a giant heart candle we want to put on Y/N’s cupcake.” Said Sejun finishing what he was saying.

“This is perfect! Well done!” Said Seungsik sounding like a proud mom. Everyone busied themselves with final touches, including the surprisingly large heart candle that was threatening to topple the poor cupcake it was sat upon. Subin returned to the door and wrote another question before sliding the paper back under the door.

‘Can we come in?’

You didn’t bother writing a response, instead you and Chan stood up and opened the door, your cheeks turning pink and shy when the sight of these 6 men standing there with dinner, dessert, presents and the brightest smiles was in front of you. Subin was the first at the door, holding your new plushy with a little bow on its head in his hands, you practically tackled Subin in a tight hug, burying your face in his chest to hide your flustered expression. Chan rubbed your back and chuckled as he gently moved you two to the side to allow the others into the room. Everyone took a seat around the room within reach of dinner, all taking turns coming to sit beside you and check to make sure you were ok.

Before long everyone had had their fill of food, Byungchan, Chan, and Seungsik were taking in the dishes when you started to feel your fatigue return and you couldn’t stop yawning. You shuffled yourself back on the bed, grabbed your fuzzy blanket and curled up. Seungwoo watched you as you made yourself cozy and could not resist this opportunity for snuggles, he layed down facing you, placing his forehead against yours and took your hands in his own. He pulled them to his chest and held them there, you could feel his steady and calm heartbeat as he hugged yours hands to his chest tightly.

The others returned from dish duty and settled back into the room, Chan crawling back up the bed behind you. He layed down and wrapped his arms around you, squeezing tight as he tucked his knees in behind your own, pulling you into him. One by one the other members made their way to the bed, thank goodness Chan had a Queen size bed. The empty space on the bed became non-existent as you were slowly buried in their care and affection, it was so warm and so filled with love that you didn’t mind at all.

It wasn’t long before you drifted off to sleep along with a few of the members who were situated comfortably on the bed, the rest tip toed out of the room to return to their own beds for the night. Their mission a success.

~ I hope you enjoyed this comfort piece! Have a lovely day!

#victon #victon scenarios #victon fluff #victon imagines #heo chan #chan #seungwoo #seungsik #sejun #hanse #byungchan #subin #ilovetheseboys #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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peridot-tears · 4 years

Text

MDZS but it’s Percy Jackson

Idk. Consider this PT’s coming out of retirement to make her last contribution to the fanfiction world. Will be moved to AO3 soon. Enjoy.

The new boy could shoot better than Wen Ning.

Wei Ying, everyone called him. The “ying” stands for “baby” or “infant”; not “hawk,” as he first thought.

Strange. It was more a nickname than a proper name, but one look at his boyish, sunshine face, and it was evident that something more proper would be unsettlingly serious. He had a big, stupid grin that was equal parts coy and...more stupid.

“Earth to Lan Zhan.”

He startled. “Ge.”

Lan Huan smiled at him indulgently, which Lan Zhan knew to be his big-brother smile before he thrashed him like a normal sibling. “If you’re so into him, why don’t you go make friends with him?”

“Ge...,” he said, only changing the intonation half a dial.

Lan Huan’s smile changed serious, just a little bit. His eyes flicked towards the new boy, whose arrow flew across the sky, and struck the target dead—because of Wei Ying’s hawk-like eyes.

“A-Zhan,” he said. “You’ll be claimed someday, and move to a cabin other than Hermes’s, but they are still good to us for taking us in. And, it is prudent to have friends in other cabins. He’s already made friends with those two from Apollo’s cabin.”

Lan Zhan felt his lips thin.

He didn’t respond, didn’t need to. But when it was his turn to shoot, and the new boy whooped for him and called him, “Lan-er!” he did not ignore him; he spared him a glance, and then refocused on what was important there and then.

His arrow thudded into the target. Dead and center.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wei Ying said to a boy next to him—someone Lan Zhan had seen with him before, attached at the hip—“let me go again, Jiang Cheng. Let me go, let me go, let me gooooooo.”

“My gods,” said the boy, rolling his eyes. “Fine, if it’ll make you stop whining.”

Wei Ying whooped; Lan Zhan hardly registered as he brushed past him to reach the spot he had been standing in seconds ago, because he was busy registering Wei Ying brushing past him. “That was a good shot, Lan-er,” he said.

Lan Zhan bit. “How do you know my name?”

“Who doesn’t know the great and refined Lan Zhan, brother of Lan Huan, who sleeps across my bunk in the cabin?” Wei Ying asked, eyes sparkling with mirth, like a naiad’s. “They say you’re the next Percy Jackson.”

Lan Zhan wasn’t sure that he liked the sound of that.

Wei Ying winked at him, like a naiad trying to seduce him, and turned back to face the target, nocking his arrow. “看好了蓝湛“，he said casually, in their shared language.

Without realizing it—no one else was shooting on the range, all eyes on Wei Ying, so of course he would too—he obeyed.

Wei Ying had chosen a classic bow, all wood and strung with something hand-coiled. He stretched it back, all angles between the bow, the taut string, the cock of his arm. The feather of the arrow moved over his profile. It slid past his eye.

With a smirk, he released.

That was why he had chosen to take up Lan Zhan’s target...before anyone could collect the arrow Lan Zhan had shot. Wei Ying’s arrow touched the end of his in the blink of an eye; in another blink, it had pierced his through.

Wei Ying was not done. Before any demigod had the chance to bring their hands together, he had pulled and fired again, twice, three times, until there was a neat stack of arrows pierced together in a pile against the center of the target.

“You can clap now,” he told the stunned demigods gathered around the range.

They did, breaking into claps. Wei Ying turned back, casting another glance at Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan felt his breath catch in his throat.

—

It was the first in a series of episodes in which Wei Ying played a game of Rile Him Up, with Lan Zhan as the main goal. And each time, it stirred up a raw feeling in him that made him go absolutely mad.

“He seems to want to make friends with you,” Lan Huan commented on their outing for strawberries.

Lan Zhan stopped their trudge up the hill—glide, more like, he refused to let his back bow more than necessary even on an upward incline—to sweep the horizon, the valley in the sunset. It was an orange sunset today, drowning Camp Half-Blood more than the sparkling sea in the distance could reach.

“He spilled my soup yesterday,” Lan Zhan said, and his older brother was kind enough to not add, But he immediately offered you his entire lunch and claimed he wasn’t hungry anyway. No, he just let it hang silently in the air instead. Lan Zhan had the best older brother in the world.

“He can be thoughtless at times, but still so thoughtful,” Lan Huan finally said, and this thought must have circulated in his mind for quite a while, because he said it after they had picked a basketful of strawberries in comfortable silence.

Sometimes, Lan Zhan thought he should be more talkative when they had these moments together; his brother was spending more and more time with that Meng Yao, also unclaimed, and if he were Wei Ying, he would probably be begging for Lan Huan’s attention back the way Wei Ying did Jiang Cheng. But he had such a secure attachment to his brother, who had been here when Lan Zhan was born silently as he lived. Lan Huan could go far, far away, but he would always come back for Lan Zhan to treat him with cold indifference. That was his love language, after all.

Why does Wei Ying want my attention?

Why does Wei Ying cringe at every mention of Cerberus, Hades’s hound?

Why does Jiang Cheng keep telling Wei Ying not to bother me, but then roll his eyes and look at me like I was the one bothering them?

Why am I thinking so much about Wei Ying?

“Didi,” Lan Huan said.

Out of it, Lan Zhan found his brother’s gaze. They were almost back at the Hermes cabin. “Ge.”

He just smiled. Lan Zhan was not sure whether to be annoyed or endeared. Well, it was his brother—so both.

The Hermes cabin was so loud this time of day, when everyone ought to be tired right before bed. But instead, it was crowded, and bustling, and there was one particularly guilty culprit in the middle of it all. Its name was Wei Ying, and its laughter could power an entire skyscraper in Monsters Inc.

Which he, of course, was narrating in great detail.

“Mike Wazowski is a Cyclops with amnesia!” he argued, while Jiang Cheng hovered in the background, rolling his eyes.

“Mike Wazowski took his girlfriend on a date to a sushi restaurant,” said another of the boys—Nie Huaisang, an actual, born son of Hermes. There had been a vague sense that he and his brother, Nie Mingjue would take on the legacy of the Stoll brothers as Cabin Eleven’s co-head counselors...until Mingjue had been claimed by Ares.

It was none of Lan Zhan’s business, but everyone wondered what kind of woman had managed to snag both Ares and Hermes as fathers to her children.

“Therefore,” Huaisang was continuing, seeming almost offended, “why would he eat fish? Poseiden’s pretty much all of them’s dad, that’s like eating his brother!”

“Well, yeah,” Wei Ying fired back, “that’s why he doesn’t know. Because amnesia!”

“The body remembers when the mind forgets!” Huaisang responded. “J.L. Moreno, the creator of psychodrama.”

“How do you even know that, when you can’t read?” Wei Ying fairly shrieked, obviously seconds away from calling his friend a nerd.

“You and I both have dyslexia, you know we can still read a little!” Huaisang actually shrieked.

Lan Huan cleared his throat.

All heads turned towards them. Lan Zhan wanted to be the younger brother rolling his eyes right now—Lan Huan had stage presence when he wanted to, didn’t he? But he had been taught to never, ever, ever roll his eyes, so he settled for giving everyone the cold shoulder as he walked away instead.

“We have procured some strawberries,” Lan Huan said goodnaturedly, and the entire cabin exploded in the sudden rush to gently wrest them from him before they were all gone.

“Me first!” Huaisang said, drowning somewhere in the middle. “I want to give some to my brother!”

“The Ares kids can pick their own strawberries!” Jiang Cheng huffed, strolling back to his bunk. He slept under Wei Ying. Wei Ying had the top bunk. And Lan Zhan had the next top bunk. They were next to each other.

Below him, the entire, considerable mass of Hermes demigods had turned into a sea of sardines. Had he and Lan Huan even picked enough?

Out of that sea exploded Wei Ying. “There aren’t anymore!” he exclaimed to the crowd that he was probably trampling his way out of right now. “No more, no more...sorry, guys...”

“You just put them all in your pocket!” one of the Hermes kids shouted. There was a split second of silence, before the shrieking cabin kids flung themselves at him. Those shrieks turned from accusing to disappointed as they realized...surprise, his pockets were flat and empty against his legs.

They pulled back, leaving him blinking innocently. “Why would I do that?” Wei Ying asked, sounding offended. “Why would I get more than my share? I don’t even like strawberries.”

“Uh-huh,” some of the demigods said, disbelievingly, but there was nothing else they could do. They drifted back to their beds, or the front stoop of the cabin, cradling their precious red-flavored catch of the day.

It was only once Wei Ying was left to his own devices that Lan Zhan turned his head to see him huddled with his brother and sister in the corner, gently pressing strawberries into their hands. Squint, and he could see them rolling from his sweater sleeves.

That clever little...

Truly, he was a son of Hermes. Lan Zhan could not wait until he found out who his father was, and he could finally go someplace where he would not have to hear Wei Ying snoring at night.

And yet, it was nine. Wei Ying was still huddled in the corner, giggling and whispering with his siblings. These sounds were keeping Lan Zhan awake, though his eyelids were heavy and he wanted to give in to that lull.

It was not until Wei Ying clambered his way into the bunk across Lan Zhan’s that his soft, happy snores filled their side of the cabin.

As he finally fell asleep, Lan Zhan realized that he had familiarized himself with the sound of Wei Ying’s snores.

—

Spring had finally burst into a full, ripened warmth that was gentle to them even at night. Wei Ying walked around in short sleeves now, which meant that he had to find a better way to hide things.

Lan Zhan sat by his brother as food appeared on his plate.

“Ah, your favorite! Watery soup!”

He twitched. “Wei Ying!” he said sternly, just barely stopping himself from covering his soup with his hands.

“Ah, I’m not gonna spill it this time, promise, promise!” Wei Ying said. “I said sorry for last time too, right? You can even have some of my food this time around! Or I could climb over and get some strawberries for you right now.”

Lan Zhan could feel his brother’s gaze on them both. “That will not be necessary,” he gritted out, picking up his spoon with deliberate care and slowness. And that would be the end of that.

According to him, not Wei Ying, who could not be stopped, “Ah, but those strawberries you and your brother picked the other day were so good. And you never got to taste them? What’s the point of a climb like that if you don’t even get a little bit? I could return the favor.”

“That will not be necessary,” Lan Zhan repeated. Maybe it would make him finally go away.

And on it went, Lan Zhan falling silent, Wei Ying bothering him still until his sister called him away.

“Sorry about that,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding not very sorry at all. “He’s adopted.”

Suddenly, there was a hush.

Lan Zhan could not describe it if he tried—the chattering camp fell silent, and he was compelled to follow. Nothing had happened. No sudden appearance of anything in particular. But he was sitting there next to his brother, all at once heavily aware of an uncomfortable silence.

He exchanged a glance with Lan Huan. It was not the sort of silence that led them to think there was some imminent attack oncoming, but he tensed slightly all the same.

At the front, Chiron stood, frowning slightly. He opened his mouth, but needn’t have bothered.

It became cold—the kind that felt like opening a refrigerator too fast on a steamy summer day. Lan Zhan was used to the coolness of clouds, but nothing like this. It was bone-deep, and that was how he knew who had come.

Not very far from him at all was Wei Ying, and Lan Zhan twisted his neck to see him let go of his siblings’ hands; he was standing between them, now staring straight at Lan Zhan as though confused. His eyebrows furrowed as he opened his mouth to speak, but for the first time, nothing came out. Black smoke furled gently from his clothes, rising above him, curling its tendons around them all. Lan Zhan refused to recoil when one touched him, and his unflinching bravery was met with a brief sense of...something. Resentment, maybe. Something dark. Something deeper than he could understand, though he understood perfectly.

As the wisps caressed his hands, his face, whatever smoke rose evaporated into a cloud above Wei Ying, whose eyes still never left Lan Zhan’s. He was stark, stark pale next to the black, and Lan Zhan was sure he looked much the same way.

Eventually, the cloud coiled into a shape. A crescent, though it stood like a tree.

A hush, for real this time.

Chiron trotted forward.

“All hail the son of Hades,” he said.

Wei Ying’s eyebrows dragged all the way up into his scattered bangs, as he finally blinked and looked around at anyone else that was not Lan Zhan.

Hades...the children of Hades rarely ever led happy lives, and yet here was Wei Ying, the brightest mark of light in anyone’s life.

But his large, puzzled doe eyes snapped back to Lan Zhan. Some part of them, Lan Zhan realized with a startle, was accepting. He even saw the hint of a smirk scratching the edge of his lip, like the revelation no longer troubled him. Like he embraced it, was excited for it.

“A-Zhan.”

Lan Huan. And, not just him, or Wei Ying—when Lan Zhan finally looked around, everyone was staring at him now. And he saw why, because his brother must be mirroring him: The two of them were surrounded by a reddish-brown glow, that slowly melted away. Nothing had changed otherwise, but there was viscerally something different—like his brother stood taller, his chin tilted higher.

“Oh,” someone gasped.

“Ah,” said Chiron. “All hail the sons of Aphrodite.”

—

[A/N: The “ying” in Wei Ying is a homophone for “hawk” and by extension, “eagle.” The more you know. I will be abusing the hell out of this wordplay.

This all started because of a talk I had with my good friend, whom I converted, and who I will love forever and ever. Crackhead culture? Mayhaps.]

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anastasiaenache003 · 3 years

Text

It’s all about the magic of the moment...

A/N: Hello there! This is my first post ever on Tumblr, and it’s also a fanfiction, more precisely an entry for #johnicaweek2021 , organised by the specatcular @eileen-crys :) I really hope that I managed to picture in the best way possible the tender relationship that John and Ronnie have. Enjoy!

My Instagram account: @anastasia.enake ( just in case)

Johnica Week day 5- “Memories” and “Nowadays”

Word count: 3087

It was the New Year’s Eve of 2021. The fireworks were now heard somewhere in the distance, with people rejoicing the last moments of a magical night. The whole house on an empty London street has gone quiet; it was dark, only the streetlights’ pale light making its way through the half-open curtains and the only sound that could be heard was the slight, almost intangible crinkling of the wood in the fireplace. On the second floor, behind the closed bedroom doors, the house’s habitants were seeing sweet dreams. Some of them were dreaming about the presents they would get in the morning; some were dreaming about the little holiday they were all going to go on for a couple of days.

The master bedroom, however, was empty. Or, to be more precise, it has been “relocated” into the living room. There were, sleeping on a comfy sofa beside the fireplace, covered in a huge and warm blanket, two old people, a man embracing his wife. On the coffee table in front of them was laying a very old and dusty photo album, which has been left open on a blank page, probably because someone had accidentally turned two pages at once. Or not?...

New Year’s Eve, 1971

“John, where’s the champagne? I thought you had bought it already?” questioned Mary as she greeted the young man in the doorway.

“I’m truly sorry, but I can’t believe that literally NO SHOP was open today in our area”, sighed John as he took off his coat. “It looks like there’s a conspiracy theory or whatsoever, I swear!”

From somewhere in the kitchen popped out a big black-haired head. “Don’t worry, darling, I made sure we would drink as much champagne as possible tonight!” Freddie gave his most flamboyant smile towards the guest. “Please, feel welcome! Mary, would you be so nice to introduce Deaky to our guests?” he added nonchalantly before disappearing in the kitchen.

As sweet and gentle as she was, Mary took his hand and led the way into the big living room where you could already hear the chattering. Freddie has always been keen on spending every holiday in the best way possible, be it Christmas, Easter or even his birthday (he was not modest at all). This year’s New Year celebration, as he and his other three friends formed the group “Queen” and already began on working for an eventual debut album, had to be very special. And extravagant nonetheless. Not that he gathered all London town’s population in his tiny apartment (although he would’ve loved to), but a close circle of good people who knew how to have fun was always welcomed.

When Mary and John entered the living room, John felt a little bit uncomfortable as all eyes were on him instantly. Truth be told, he didn’t enjoy that much big companies, but felt that this evening meant so much for the other three guys, especially for Fred, that he tried his best not to look or sound not at ease. People were approaching him and tried to engage him into different conversations, about music, books or whatever topic was popular at the moment and soon, John’s shyness melted away. As she made sure that everything was alright with the new guest, Mary glanced quickly over the people who were already in the room. She smiled to herself and then disappeared in the hallway.

The party was delightful, in every sense of the word. Soon arrived Brian and brought a whole packet of fortune cookies, “for entertaining purposes”, of course. “What is New Year’s Eve without fortune-telling?” he wondered surprised as Roger, who wasn’t into all kinds of “children games”, took the packet from his hand and gave it a discontent look. “Bri, I know you’re a very kind and wise man, but WHO ON EARTH reads fortune papers on New Year’s Eve? Be serious, no one’s interested in those and-!”. “Nice to meet you too, Rog”, smiled Brian as he shook the snow off his clothes and fluffy hair.” If you wanted us to play games, then we should’ve done “Truth or Dare”, complained Roger,” AND it’s far more interesting, at-”. He was suddenly cut off by Freddie’s yelling from the kitchen:” Not all of us are interested in THAT kind of games, Rog! Let the guy come in and enjoy the party! It’s all about magic tonight, and not about what you had in mind!”

The last phrase was said louder than the previous two, as a few people wandered curiously in the hallway to see what was happening, but soon got back to the rest of the party. Roger rolled his eyes and helped Brian to take his fur coat and scarf off, mumbling something to himself. “Don’t worry, Rog”, Brian teased him, “I guarantee that you’ll have great fun tonight!”. “Pinky promise!” he burst out laughing, not really trying to control himself. “Fuck off!” Roger shot him an annoyed look and punched him slightly in the ribs, but also couldn’t constrain a toothy smile. The two then hurried int the living room where they were welcomed by a burst of applauses and cheesy jokes. Now, the party must have truly begun.

It was already half past eleven when the doorbell rang, to a big surprise for some guests. As neither Freddie, nor Mary, were to be seen to be going to open the door, John has offered himself to do it.

When he opened the big wooden door, in front of him was standing a young woman, a very good-looking woman, dressed in a white fur coat and a white hat. Around her neck she was wearing a bright reddish scarf which was definitely pointing out her elegant look. In her hands, he noticed a few little present bags with lots of different velvet boxes inside, which he immediately offered to help with. But as she lifted her eyes to thank him and to meet his gaze, he stopped abruptly and stared in that astonishing sparkling pair of hazel eyes. His mouth fell open in awe as the mysterious guest slightly shook his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, are you alright? You look… a bit lost” she spoke and John could swear that the tone of her voice was sending shivers down his spine. It was so soothing, calm and sweet at the same time that his heart began beating faster. He hardly found his words and whispered: “Um… no, thank you… In fact, … I… You… You should come inside, it’s already twenty minutes to midnight and it’s freezing here…” he finally found the force to speak properly as he welcomed the young lady inside.

As he helped her with her clothes and bags, Mary appeared in the long hallway. “Is everything alright with you two?” she wondered grinning at the couple. “Yes, Mary, thank you! This young man has come to help me, we shall come in about 5 minutes to you, guys! Open the champagne!” reassured her the new guest. Mary lifted her brow at what she was witnessing, but then decided not to disturb the two and quickly made her way in the main room.

When John carefully took the coat off the lady’s shoulders and helped her with unwinding the scarf, she stood in front of him in full height. John’s eyes were glued in the very next moment to her appearance. She seemed to be rather shorter than him, considering that she was wearing heels too. Underneath the coat was hiding a splendid tea-length long-sleeved silky dark-red dress with fine dark embroidery on the hem and on the collar. He took in every inch of her astonishing look, especially of what he later considered to be her most precious jewel- her bright hazel eyes, whose shade differed from caramel to apple-green in the light of the lamp.

“You look…” he began, unable to find the right words to describe her otherworldly beauty. “How do I look?” she questioned, smiling widely, which made it even more difficult for John to talk. “You… You look breathtaking!” he witnessed, more to himself, not completely trusting his voice and emotions. At his confession, a tint of blush covered her already rosy from cold cheeks. “I must be honored to receive a compliment from a gentleman like you, then” she bowed her head in response. The sound of her softly spoken voice made him smile in return. “The others are waiting for us; I think we shall go…” she whispered nodding towards the door leading to the living room. Without any further explanation, John offered his hand to the young woman. She accepted it gladly, putting her tiny hand in his and together they walked into the crowdy room. This wasn’t left unnoticed by Mary, who was sitting at the big table next to Freddie and Brian.

As the couple appeared in the doorway, someone poured them a glass of champagne for each, as Mary raised hers for a toast:” My dear friends! Here we are, 15 minutes before celebrating the New Year of 1972! This year has been a tough one, not gonna lie. It had a lot of difficult situations which we are bravely over now. Still, 1971 has brought some delights in our lives, which I will be eternally grateful for. This year has seen the beginning “, she then looked at Freddie and the rest of the band, “of a new musical group, “Queen”! These four guys, who were not afraid to start a band, made their first steps into the big music industry and I hope that, in a year or two, we shall all be hearing their brand-new album storming the charts! Cheers to that!” she cried happily as everybody stood up and clinked their glasses. “Let me have my little word here too, my dear!” exclaimed Freddie, hugging Mary from behind. “I just want to wish you, to all of you, that the new 1972 brings you what you desire the most in your lives, be it love, new friends, money or whatsoever! In other words, peace and love to all of you! Cheers!” he joked and raised his glass, much to the joyful laughs of their guests.

All this time, John couldn’t take his eyes of the mysterious lady who was, much to his pleasure, sitting on his right hand. As Freddie finished saying his toast, John raised his glass to her and whispered so quietly so that only she could hear him:” Happy New Year?”. “Happy New Year!” she responded, leaving a peck on his cheek. John felt vulnerable under her tender gaze. He must know what her name was. It was a matter of life and death. Maybe he wanted to ask her that question, but was interrupted by the joyful cries of the guests who were glued to the clock on the wall- 1 minute and 30 seconds until the new year of 1972. “Open the balcony! NOW!” shouted Roger, desperate to watch the fireworks invading the city’s night sky. Even at 22, he still remained that little child who loved the New Year’s Eve. Who didn’t, though?

The whole party started to crowd the small balcony of Fred’s apartment, waiting impatiently for the show to begin. “Follow me”, the lady leaned and whispered in John’s ear, “I know a better place to watch them.” Making their way through the crowd, the couple got dressed really fast and stormed out of the apartment, giggling. “We must use the fire escape, but quickly!” she added and started to climb it, careful not to slip on the icy stairs. John followed her immediately, paying attention to her movements.

As they got on top of the roof, the fireworks were already blasting in full force, coloring the sky in the colors of the rainbow. London town was glowing. It was a breathtaking view, perfect to spend the New Year’s Eve with someone special. “I’m Veronica Tetzlaff, by the way. But you can call me Ronnie…” she whispered as they were standing close to each other, still holding hands. “Happy New Year, Ronnie” he turned to face her beautiful eyes. “My name’s John Deacon, or Deaky, as the others call me” he smirked. “May I hug you, Ronnie Tetzlaff?”. “Please”, she smiled,” Happy New Year, John Deacon!” her voice now muffled in his shoulder. Behind them, the whole world was celebrating the new upcoming year of 1972. However, a new tiny world has been created, and it was now growing at the speed of light between the two young people.

“Can I ask you one more question, Ronnie?”.

“Yes, John. Ask me anything. I like the way your voice sounds when you talk, really…” she giggled, looking up to meet his gaze and his beautiful smile.

“It might sound too bold from me, and considering that we’ve only knew each other for less than half an hour…” he started, but she cut him off. “Really? I thought I have known you for a whole lifetime…”. At her words, John’s heart skipped a beat. Truth be told, he had heard talking about two people being soulmates. But he never thought he would be able to find his, and that fast, and on such a special night.

“Ronnie, I… May I kiss you?” he breathed out shakily, his face just a few inches away from hers. He could see the fireworks’ reflection in her eyes, which made them even more spectacular to look at. She didn’t say anything, just slowly nodded and smiled gently at him. The next moment he carefully took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. Her lips were as soft as a rose petal and felt perfectly matched for his. He moved his hands to her middle and hugged her tightly while she embraced his shoulders. If there was Heaven on Earth, that particular moment could represent it in the best way possible. However, not shortly after, he noticed that she was sobbing quietly in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Ronnie, I shouldn’t have gone that far- “he quickly started to apologize to her, but she gently stopped him. “Silly, I’m crying because I’m the happiest person in the world! Everything is perfect. You’re perfect” she kissed him back as a confirmation of her words. Freddie was right, the new 1972 has definitely brought something that they both desired in their lives- a true and profound love, which would last over the years, in happiness and grief…

When they returned back in the apartment, it seemed that, curiously, nobody has even noticed their absence. However, as soon as they stepped into the warm hall, they were greeted with a flash of a camera. “Roger! Maybe should’ve waited for us to look more presentable!” John half-shouted, half-laughed. “It’s all about the magic of the moment, so shut up! Plus, you look very presentable nonetheless. I’m talking about you, beautiful young lady. What about you, my fine friend…” teased Roger before receiving a punch in the shoulder from John. “Okay, problems aside, let’s celebrate! It’s the New Year!” giggled Veronica, taking both boys’ hands and running in the living room where the others were cheering and celebrating loudly. Happy New Year 1972…

Everything was just fine, exactly how it should be…

“Do you think it will work out for them?” Mary wondered as Freddie helped her washing the dishes. The apartment was now empty and only the confetti hanging from the chandeliers were bringing back the memories of an unforgettable night. “God knows… But I’m sure they found each other interesting, even at first sight. Do you agree, my dear?”. Mary just smiled to herself. “I hope so…” she added nonchalantly…

The first morning of the new year is always a special morning. The kids always hurry to get their presents under the decorated tree, whereas their parents and grandparents exchange secret knowing smiles and enjoy the happiness and the delight of the little ones.

The old couple sleeping on the sofa woke up before anyone else in the house. “Seems that we fell asleep here” the old woman yawned. “Good morning, beautiful” the old man turned to face her. Her hazel eyes were exactly the same as in that very morning, 50 years ago. Nothing had changed in their beauty. “Young man, you’re staring. How bold of you!” the woman added laughing. The man caressed her cheek, still admiring her eyes that caught his attention a long time ago and hadn’t let him go ever since. “You’re still as breathtaking as on that New Year’s Eve, my love. Happy New Year, Ronnie” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Happy New Year, John!” she sighed, a feeling of perfect harmony growing in her chest. A couple of cheerful cries were approaching the living room. “Be prepared for the attack!” she laughed before sitting up and greeting her ten grand-children with a warm embrace. “Happy New Year, grandma and grandpa!” they cried in unison. “Happy New Year, our darlings, our sweet-hearts! Now go and open your presents. They’ve been waiting for you all the morning!” she advised them as she and John watched them go and rip off the packages impatiently and with stars in their eyes.

“Grandpa?” asked the youngest one, Mary, “shall we put another photo in your album? I’ll bring the camera, if you want to”. “Hurry up, then, my dear, and please wake up your parents and the rest” John told her warmly as the girl ran upstairs in her room. Soon, she returned with the whole bunch of parents and a camera in her hands. “Now”, she began enthusiastically, “everybody, gather round the tree and I’ll take a family photo. I said NOW, Richard!” she yelled at her older brother who seemed not to like the idea, but obeyed anyway. The whole family, still sleepy from the last night’s celebrations, came together smiling round the decorated tree, with the old couple being in the center of the group. “And now”, the girl warned as she fixed the camera on the tripod and quickly ran and stood at the side of the group so she would appear in the picture as well, “say CHEESE!” and pushed the camera button. The Polaroid came out instantly and showed a happy family on a New Year’s magical morning. A great picture for a photo-album. “It’s all about the magic of the moment” remembered Ronnie and saw John tearing up a little. “Yeah, it’s all about the magic of the moment…”

#johnicaweek2021 #john deacon #veronica tetzlaff #queen fluff #queen fanfiction #newyearseve

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starrysupercell · 3 years

Text

A quick one shot I whipped up over the course of yesterday evening to now. Give it up for our holiday-loving Pirate girl!

~💰~Penny For Your Pranks ~🃏~

It was very early in the morning, or super late at night, depending on how you want to describe it. The sun was nowhere near to coming out yet, and everyone was soundly sleeping.

For one girl, it was the perfect time to get up- for her plan that is. What plan was that, you ask? Well, it was the funniest day of the year, April Fools', and it would be such a waste to let it pass without topping last year!

No section would be left untouched by Penny today! She had targets everywhere.

To get started, she had to get from her room to the deck first. That meant sneaking past Darryl's room, then dropping down to the small rowboat attached before he noticed. Then, if things went well, she'd be out of reach thanks to her top secret plotted out map.

Penny opened the door slowly, carefully. She peered out and looked down the dark looming hallway. First right, then left.

She stepped out, opening the door further to take her brown bag stuffed full of tricks and tools she needed. Her trusty cannon was strapped to her back. For now, she also held her boots at hand to minimize any noises she made for the trek.

Penny tiptoed down the hall, stepping on the wooden boards that creaked the least. It took several long minutes, but it was well worth it when she made it to the surface without a problem.

The girl walked to the side of the ship. It was chilly, but nothing she wasn't used to. She placed the bag on the small boat one end, and began to climb over the side of the ship. She stood on it now with a triumphant grin and began to shift the ropes necessary to bring it down.

Penny looked forward and froze.

There, at the center of the deck stood a bot. Not the one she was on the lookout for, but one who could still make it or break her scheme. He bounced in place idly, a grin on his face. "Klafshgijnknalu?" Tick asked.

Penny held a finger to her lips and whispered. "Shhh...! Tick- Look. It's April Fools'! You can't expect me to hold still today."

"Spiwygdt? Ydeimwiwhbpa. Lwbikdya!" Tick frowned.

"I had to keep this under wraps, buddy!" Penny told him. "I would have told you, but this a big top secret project, I promise! Next time, I'll bring you along, but I need you to just keep it on the downlow, can you do that for me?" She reasoned with him.

"...Skjshfkulinbanieu," Tick said. "Lempikenlochopak."

"A month?" Penny rolled her eyes. "Fine! But I'm not gonna cover your tab anytime soon pal!" She stuck her tongue out.

"Sjsjkfjkti." Tick grinned and hopped away.

Even with the drawback of extra chores for a month (overpriced favor!), Penny smiled again. She looked out the water. That little exchange may have set her back some minutes, but she could still make due time. She lowered the boat carefully into the water. The rope went up, and she floated atop the water.

She shoved her boots on. She took off her beanie. The finishing touch to her ensemble was a Jester's Hat. Just for the occasion.

Penny began to row to the mainland of the Park.

°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°

The first place hit was the Junkyard. When they opened that day, everything seemed okay.

Pam had left some projects on the worktable the night before, so after breakfast she opened her toolbox and grabbed a hammer. Wait. It felt... light. She was strong for sure, but hammers usually had some weight to it.

With a strange look and unadulterated confusion, Pam hit the tool against the table. Squeak! "What in the..?"

Pam looked at her box, her tools. She grabbed and lifted it. Light as a feather. She turned the box upside down to dump out the contents of fake tools, but dozens of nuts and bolts fell out as well with a loud clatter. "Ugh!" Pam exclaimed.

Wait another pickin' minute. Today was a certain day, wasn't it? That day.

Jessie poked her head in through the door. "Are you okay, Mom?"

"It wasn't you who did this, was it Jessie?" Pam asked. For her sake, it better not have been.

"Um, no?" She said, walking in. She poked at one of the tools with her foot and giggled at its squeak. She stopped when she realized her mom was only frowning.

Pam believed her. She raised her so Jessie would know better than to lie. "Nani!" She called, annoyed as she kicked at the inflatable tools. "Come here!"

The robot entered with a smile. "Yes? What is it?" She asked.

"Go through Peep's archives. See if he filmed the troublemaker responsible for this prank."

"Okay." She responded dearly, sending a signal to her analog. The hovering bot zipped in, circling the room once before landing in Nani's hands.

Near instantly, fast moving scenes of the night before began flashing on Nani's screen. Dinnertime, preparing for bed, scouting the halls.

At one point, there seemed to be a flash of a silhouette with dark shades of purple and green present, but Peep's screen was suddenly shot with something that obscured his vision. He started the self cleaning process, but by the time it was done and he was ready to record again, whoever it was vanished. Everything seemed unchanged, so Peep went on his way.

"Crafty little.. bugger." Pam said, minding her language in front of her daughter. She sighed.

"Sorry," Nani said, her eye returning onscreen.

"Ehh, it ain't your fault. I'm more ticked at whoever's done this." Pam assured her. "I guess I'll continue later- well I'm expecting whoever it was to return or something. I'll raise hell if I don't get my tools back."

Jessie stayed quiet, the scene made her vaguely recall something that morning...

The more she thought about it, the more she could swear she recalled being woken up briefly by a bit of clattering outside. She sat up sleepily and looked out her window, where she saw a figure stumbled over a pile of junk outside.

She looked around and hastily ducked out of sight somewhere out of view, not noticing Jessie at all, it seemed.

Whoever it was, had short pink hair.

After that single observation, Jessie fell back tiredly and slept soundly once more.

'Penny?' Jessie wondered now. 'It makes sense too.. she loves every holiday.' The young redhead smiled to herself, a plan of her own beginning to form.

°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°

Tara meditated, facing the sun and feeling the warm glow graze her face. This was how she greeted every day. Reflection was essential. Taking time to be at peace with one's self, and the world around them was a daily task for her.

She inhaled, and kept her breath.

Somewhere inside, Sandy was drowsily walking along. He mumbled sleepily at Gene's garbled good morning.... and stepped on the rug placed in the living room. As soon as he placed weight on his foot, the bubble wrap underneath popped and he jolted, startled.

Sandy hopped forward to escape the noise, but only managed to set off more of the wrap. This went on for another couple of dance-like steps before an eye slipped open and he looked down at the carpet. "..."

He sidestepped and continued on his way to the bathroom, pretending nothing happened even as Gene laughed. He was fully awake now (as awake as Sandy could be that is.)

Tara exhaled evenly, but her eye was closed in a smile.

Yes, she did know. Nothing could escape her- not even a mischievous little jester... but that didn't mean she was obligated to warn everyone else here.

She laughed quietly in her mystic chorus of voices as she thought about the other little noisy traps set throughout the house.

'Like those cheap party poppers attatched to nearly every door,' Tara mused, hearing the tell-tale sound of the first one going off.

°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°

It was always a dilemma, practically ritual by now.

He took off the hat, and considered how he looked. He put it on, striking a different pose in front of the mirror. Then off again, and he worked on his hair with a hum.

Chittering from his Bats right outside his door made Mortis glance over. "What is it, my pretties?" He called, then mumbled absent mindedly as he continued to preen. "I'm trying to look pretty."

They started to scratch at the door. Mortis sighed, placed the top hat on his head, gave a "hmm," and tossed it to his bed to go and open the door.

His cloud of Bats flew in overhead, and Mortis ducked partway. "What? What is-?" He looked up at them, and his mouth opened slightly in a shocked, confused expression.

"Why are you all... festive?!" Tiny, colorful party hats and bow ties adorned a good number of the colony- Who... and how...when...?

He made it out of his room and darted to the dining room but Frank and Emz weren't there. He looked out the window, and was even more distressed.

The outside looked like....!

Mortis ran outside, his cape trailing behind him. He kicked the front door open, where there they were- His niece and Frank.

The scenery was bright and colorful- looking like someone's birthday party. Balloons littered the place, and there were streamers all along the house.

Frank was looking around, scratching his head.

Emz was flashing pictures. "You know, I'd thought this place needed a splash of color. And look at that, I was right!"

"This is a graveyard!" Mortis exclaimed. "It's supposed to be dreary!"

"Yea, I guess." Emz rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying, geez." She fixed her hair, and turned so the balloons would show up in her background.

Frank had walked to the side upon noticing a shining sheen of paint high above on the house. He grunted at the two to call them over.

It was a sparkly portrait of a unicorn gracefully mid-run. Pastel spray paint which likely had glitter in the mix. (It was washable, but the Spooky Triad didn't know this yet.)

"Who even had the time for all of this??" Mortis asked, hands in his hair and truly bewildered. "My Bats, the balloons, THIS!"

"Do your Bats look this cute too?" Emz asked, taking a whole new photoshoot with this backdrop too.

"Yes, the most precious things you'll see in your life, ever! But that's not the point here!" Mortis said in distress.

Frank laughed. He knew one thing. He wasn't going to help clean this up.

°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°

A tropical setting at the Snowtel, complete with coconut halves instead of paper snowcones for Lou.

'Please Use Other Door' signs were posted on every door in the Gift Shop... inside and out.

Sticky notes scrawled with 'out of order' was on everything in Bea and Rosa's Lab. Yes, everything. The computer, plants, Sprout, the desk, every single pen and pencil...

Bull's Diner... was now Bull-erina's. Instead of the cool and retro vibe the Gang was proud of, you guessed it. It was now a ballet dance studio-themed diner.

And so on and so forth with pranks along these veins at each of the sections. It was mayhem in Starr Park. The wild lass actually did it.

°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°

Penny yawned as she rowed back to Darryl's ship. Her bag was empty. Everyone would be discussing this until next April. And nobody caught her! All in a night's/morning's work.

The prankster climbed over the railing of the ship. She felt great.

One thing left, she tilted her near empty bag and scattered countless marbles on the floor.

And then, she headed back to her room to snooze for as long as possible.

It was a long night, so took her hat off, changed into some comfy PJs, and threw herself back onto her bed. She closed her eyes with a smile before hearing a faint beeping.

Penny opened her eyes in time to see a hatch on her ceiling open and a pie fall out.

The attack was direct on its target. Her face. Cherry Bomb...

The girl sat up, wiping off the fruits and crust as best she could to at least be able to see. Ugh..! Was this Tick? That little rat! She trusted him!

Penny stood and headed to her bathroom. She may as well take a shower. She's been up all night and then this. Afterward, she could sleep.

As she showered, the cherry smell never went away. She'll just deal with it later, she supposed. However, as she was drying off, she finally realized it. Her skin wasn't clean- she was sticky.

°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°•○●○•°

"...And as I was walking here, I saw a whole bunch of other places she hit already. So you'll be hearing from them if anyone pinpoints the pranks to her like I did." Jessie explained, popping a cherry Jolly Rancher in her mouth as she talked to Darryl at their table. "Thanks again for letting me put that motion sensor above her bed."

The Captain nodded. "If she dishes out pranks, she should expect them too."

They then began to chat about other things, how work was, the weather, and more.

Tick listened in and snickered at the turnout for the day. He went to the deck and slipped on some marbles. "Ogjwbrqltbbsheka!" He cried out.

#Penny #Brawl Stars #Writings #Pirate Trio #Jessie #Oneshot #Others #slight Jessie/Penny if you squint #I can go either way on them tbh #April Fools'#Holiday

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dhwty-writes · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6 - Stories, Smiles and Secrets

So, I have been informed that the last chapter was sad. I'm sorry (I'm not). As compensation there is- uh... 'checks notes* fluff? It's that what you call it? Yes, there's fluff in this chapter! Enjoy! Thanks @persony-pepper for betaing this chapter!

Summary: The poacher is found and Jaskier does what he does best: telling stories.

Read on AO3

Part 1 | Part 6 | Part 8

Jaskier almost fell out of his bed when the doors burst open without any warning. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurred, trying to regain his balance as well as his dignity.

"I have come to tell you, brother," Janina announced and cruelly ripped the curtains open to reveal bright sunlight, "that Cousin Fiona and I have just led a delightful conversation over the breakfast table. While you were," she raked her eyes over him and wrinkled her nose in disgust, "still sleeping, great gods above and below, the sun rose half an hour ago!"

He suppressed a groan and swung his naked legs over the edge of his bed, ignoring Janina's shriek: "Good gods, I did not need to see that."

He rolled his eyes at her and dragged himself to a standing position. "Be glad I'm wearing a shirt at all," he grumbled, not even attempting to smooth out his appearance. There was no way he'd be able to match Janina's impeccable countenance in these early hours. "From the top," he demanded as he pulled on a dark green silk robe, one of his most prized possessions, "you had what with the girl?"

"A conversation," she said smugly and sat down on the chair he normally deposited his dirty laundry on. 'Serves her right,' he thought smugly. "Ten whole minutes."

"That's impressive." Were it any other hour, he would be howling with laughter. "You do realise that I had plenty of those, right?"

"She didn't say a single swear word."

He raised his eyebrows. "That's not really what I call 'in her good graces'," he grumbled, unwilling to admit that it was far more than he had to show for it.

"It's progress," Janina insisted stubbornly.

"Well, congratulations to you, dear sister." He winced. "Coax a smile out of her next and you have won." Jaskier clamped his mouth shut. 'Why the fuck did I say that?' he asked himself, 'Why the fuck don't I ever think before I talk?'

The smile on Janina's face told him that she had hoped for an outcome like that. "I'll hold you to your word," she purred and spun to leave.

"Fuck," he whispered, his brain working hard to catch up with what was going on. She was already out the door when he finally got his mouth to work again: "Janina!"

She peered back into his room. "Yes?" When she was batting her eyelashes like that, she looked almost adorable.

"Don't you dare threaten my witcher again," he hissed. "Or Fiona, for that matter."

"I-"

"No, Janina," he interrupted her harshly, "one misspoken word and never seeing the inside of this castle will be the least of your worries." He stood, throwing all he had picked up on by observing Geralt into looking as menacing as possible. "Never forget, sister, in here our power might match but you don't want to face me out there. A word from me and you can forget about your precious reputation. Is that understood?"

It was impressive how she took it all with a straight face. "Quite, my lord," she answered coldly, the slightest quiver in her voice betraying what went on inside her head. "May I go, Lord Pankratz?"

"You may."

She spared him a long calculating glance. "Just so you know it," she whispered, "you are turning into father. You even look like him."

Jaskier was glad that the slam of the door drowned out his shocked gasp as he staggered backwards, his knees growing weak. 'Sweet Melitele,' he prayed silently as he flopped down on his bed again, 'anything but that.'

'Surely it can't be that bad,' he thought, but when he tried to think back on his behaviour in the past few days, it made him sick.

"Fuck," he cursed again. 'No wonder the princess doesn't like me. I wouldn't like myself either.'

For the second time that week he was already dressed when Jakub came to collect him and quickly sent him away with the food he had brought. The words of his sister weighed heavily on his mind and stomach, and he found himself entirely incapable of eating anything as the words of his letters blurred before his eyes.

There were a lot of invitations from his varying neighbours he had to decline, feigning excuses about his father's recent death while they really were about hiding Cirilla and Geralt. 'I've got to do something to make her descent less obvious.' Hiding her in plain sight hadn't been his worst idea so far, still the possibility that some nobles had been to Cintra in the last few years and had caught a glimpse of the princess. But there still was a month to figure that particular obstacle out.

Midday was approaching rapidly when a knock on his door announced a visitor. "My lord," Borys, one of his guards, greeted him with a bow when he stepped inside. "We have found the poacher."

Jaskier raised his gaze expectantly from the letter he was penning. "Well," he looked around. "Where is he?"

As answer, there was the sound of commotion rising to his study and he rushed to the window to see a scrawny lad kicking and screaming, straining against the iron grip two of his other guards had on him. Marin was shouting orders and gesticulating wildly while the culprit drew quite the crowd. There were stable boys hooting and hollering, not quite obvious who they were cheering for and one of them seemed to shout something bad enough to earn him a clout on the ear from Wiktor. Geralt ushered Cirilla to the side – they had just been training – and pressed the two wooden swords into her hands while exchanging a few words. With a sharp nod the princess sprinted across the courtyard, disappearing from his line of sight – into the armoury probably.

Then, Geralt stepped out of the shadows and his demeanour changed to what Jaskier called the Scary Face. From up here it looked almost a bit like a bird ruffling up its feathers. The thought made him smile benignly. The boy stopped struggling as soon as he saw the witcher looming above him.

Jaskier turned away. He had seen enough. "Have him brought into the hall," he ordered and went back to his desk to at least close his inkwell – no need to waste the good ink by having it dry up.

By the time he got to the hall, his captive was already there, kneeling before the dais surrounded by no less than four guardsmen and a witcher. Jaskier clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Now that won't be necessary, I think," he decreed. "Leave us, please."

"My lord," Marin began warily, "talking to him alone would be highly inadvisable, in my opinion."

"Right," he answered as he took his place standing before the dais and placed his hands on his hips. "Which is why the witcher stays. The rest of you leave."

There was a fair share of reluctance on all parts but most of all on Geralt's: "I am not some common guard, my lord," he growled.

"Indeed, you aren't," Jaskier answered as soon as the three of them were alone in the room. "I just think the lad might appreciate a more private environment."

The kid laughed, high and clear. "For what exactly, my lord?"

"Ah," he said and leaned back against the dais, looking his captive over. "Not a lad at all, it seems. I am impressed, little girl. Do you have a name?"

"Alina," she answered. "And I am not little."

He raised one of his eyebrows. "How old are you, Alina?"

She raised her chin defiantly. "Sixteen."

"Right," Jaskier snorted. "How old are you?" he asked again.

There was hesitancy in her eyes before she cast them down and mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What was that?"

"She said she'll be fourteen in a moon's turn," Geralt answered for her. "My lord."

His eyebrows shot up. "Now I'm even more impressed. Cut her loose, witcher, Alina and I will have a nice conversation about how she learned to hunt."

The witcher grunted something Jaskier had long learned to interpret as surprise, but did as he was told all the same before retreating to one of the mighty columns that supported the ceiling. Alina rubbed her wrists slightly, obviously torn between looking at Jaskier in confusion and not wanting to anger him by doing so. "Get comfortable," he prompted and waited until she sat before him with crossed legs before he continued: "Who taught you how to hunt? I've seen your traps, they're wonderfully crafted."

She scoffed. "As if I'm going to tell you that."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he tried to assure her, "I'd have already done that if I wanted to. So? Any other master huntsmen or -women I need to know about?"

"Just me," she answered. "Now."

"And your father died when...?"

She flinched visibly. 'Ah.' He was onto something there. "My mother," she said after a while, "died a year ago. She's the one who taught me."

"I am sorry for your loss. Your father?"

"Ask yours," she shot back.

"Then I am doubly sorry that my family has caused you pain. Do you have any siblings?"

"Two," she admitted. "They're both younger than me."

"And there's no one left in Lettenhove to take care of you? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins? Maybe in some other town?"

She shook her head and there was the tiniest of sniffles.

"Oh dear," Jaskier said softly, fighting the urge to wrap her into a tight embrace. "I am so very sorry." He sighed heavily. "Go to the kitchens, Alina. You will receive a warm meal and food to share with your siblings. You will be taken care of for the winter."

She blinked in surprise. "Aren't- aren't you going to punish me, my lord?"

"I do not appreciate it when my game is being killed without my consent, that is true," he amended. "Therefore, you will come back in spring. I believe my huntsman is looking for a new apprentice."

She could do nothing but stare at him, her mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

Jaskier waved his hand at her. "Go now. You must be hungry." Still at a loss for words the young girl scrambled to her feet and rushed out of the room.

"Why'd you do that?" To his shame Jaskier gave a start, Geralt's voice much closer to his ear than he expected. "My lord?"

He turned to the witcher who stood barely two paces away from him and quirked his eyebrow. "Why did I do what?" he inquired.

Geralt gave a non-committal shrug Jaskier usually translated as 'whatever', but to his surprise he even elaborated: "Send her off with food. Promise to train her. Not punish her."

"She was hungry," he explained, "with no hopes of earning money. And she was scared."

"She could have lied," he suggested.

"Why should she?" Jaskier responded without hesitation. "I firmly believe that accused are innocent until proven guilty."

"To escape her rightful punishment? To steal from you?"

"I have plenty to share, it is no trouble at all." He fiddled with his signet ring, waiting for a response. It didn't take long for Geralt's silence to wear his patience thin: "Well, has she?"

"What?" Amusement made the lines around his eyes crinkle.

"Lied, I mean."

For that Jaskier was even rewarded with a tiny smile. "No, my lord. Not as far as I could tell."

"Good." Honest relief flooded through him. 'How terribly embarrassing it would have been,' he thought, 'to discover that my judge of character has betrayed me now.' Then, another thought appeared in his mind: "Do you think cousin Fiona is well enough to go riding with me today?"

"Hmm," Geralt made, thinking about it for a while. "I guess. Give me... give me an hour with her, my lord. I'll bring her to you."

He clasped his hands behind his back and nodded curtly. "I'm looking forward to it."

Geralt was a man of his word and not one hour later there was a timid knock on the door to his study and Cirilla entered, her eyes cast downwards. "Lord Julian?" she said so quietly he almost couldn't hear it. "I wanted to apologise. For disappointing you."

He smiled widely. "Oh, you mustn't. There is nothing to apologise for. The gods know I wouldn't look forward to spending all my time with old fools such as myself or our resident witcher."

She tilted her head, apparently unsure how to respond to that.

"Can I maybe tempt you to go for a ride with me now?"

She nodded eagerly. "I would like to."

"Good!" Jaskier leapt out of his chair and skidded over to her, offering her his hand to take, which she respectfully declined. That was just as well for him, same as the stoic silence she offered in response to his incessant babbling on their way to the stables. Geralt had to have alerted the stable hands, for they were already waiting there with Dancer and Dreamer, the two beautiful mares his sisters called their own. Both had recently received new saddles—he had discovered that, while saddles couldn't be embroidered once they were done, they could be branded, so now he had a saddle with buttercups and Cirilla one with little lions.

They rode out the gates at a leisurely pace, much slower than the breakneck speed Jaskier had grown fond of. But this ride wasn't solely for him; rather it was for the information Geralt had revealed to him on the previous day: Charming Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra with pretty gifts, was a futile attempt. The reason why he couldn't get her to like him was that she thought he didn't like Geralt. 'And that I am a total ass to everyone,' his brain added helpfully.

They had long left castle and village behind when he tried again: "Would you like to hear a story, cousin Fiona?"

"I would prefer not to,” she answered coolly.

"It's a good story, I promise." She scowled at him. "And I am sure you have heard it before, though surely not from a raconteur as skilled as I am. Let's see, what do we need? Right, a stage: imagine the most beautiful place in the world. There are miles upon miles of fields with flowers, in every colour of the rainbow. Can you see it?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Good. Now, the actors. We have a Hero, of course, because every story needs one. Large and fearsome with a mighty sword and a mightier shield he uses to protect the Innocent. Ah, there's another character. The Innocent, who ask the Hero to save them from the Villain. There's a Devil in this story, and a King. And... well, there's also me."

"You?" she asked sceptically. "Why are you there?"

"No reason in particular," he smiled at her. "I am just... the Narrator, if you will, the most unimportant character there is. The story would have transpired just the same." His smile grew sad. "There just wouldn't have been anyone to tell it after. But let's not think of that." He cracked his knuckles drumming out a rapid rhythm on the horn of his saddle in lack of a lute to play. "Once upon a time in the late summer of 1247, there was a mighty Hero in a town at the edge of the world. A beautiful year that was, and there were many beautiful places, though none quite as beautiful as where we set our stage. And I was just- I was travelling the continent, looking for a story to tell. Not necessarily mine, just any, really. That's what the Narrator does, right?"

Cirilla didn't answer.

"I was in a beautiful little town, singing not quite so beautiful little songs, when it happened: the Innocents cried out to the Hero. The Hero accepted, of course. He set out to slay the Devil. And I followed him. Always in search of a story to tell, just as I told you. The Hero didn't want me there, of course; he was, hm, a lone wolf, if you will." He quietly laughed at his own joke. "Did I listen? Of course not."

"That's stupid," the princess interrupted him. "And you're telling the story wrong."

Jaskier smiled. 'Finally.' He knew his talent hadn't abandoned him. "Is it? Why so?"

"You're not the Narrator! You're just another Innocent, and the Hero is trying to protect you!"

"Am I? I'm not sure. You are never just one thing, clever girl. A hero in one story is a villain in another."

She scowled. "Well, then what is the truth?"

"The truth?" He contemplated that question for a while. "Why, my dear Cirilla, I believe the truth in this story is completely inconsequential. As is in most stories."

"That doesn't make any sense," she huffed in annoyance.

"Let's see if I can make it make sense." Jaskier thought about it for a little while. "It doesn't matter if the story I tell you is true or if I have made it up," he said finally. "Truth is not what stories are for."

There was a sparkle in her eye, akin to what he'd call curiosity. "Well, then what are they for?" He felt himself reminded of his days as guest lecturer in Oxenfurt. She wasn't even that much younger than the youngest of his students, although he'd always preferred to teach the older classes.

"That is the question every master poet asks themselves," he gave the same answer as always, "Why do we tell stories? Why do we listen to stories? What makes a good story? I fear I cannot give you one true answer as little as I can give you one true story. I can, however, give you the answer that is true for me."

He took the lack of an answer as an invitation to continue: "Stories are for emotions. They are to make you weep and laugh, to make you shout in anger and yelp in surprise. To make you feel wonder and terror and hate. And love. Above all, stories are there to make you fall in love. With the world, with the future, with the past. Love for the villains and the innocents. And for the heroes, of course."

Cirilla grunted, obviously displeased with the answer. Jaskier almost gave up when she didn't offer another reply. But then, to his surprise she asked: "How does the story continue?"

That put a smile on his face as he urged the horse up another path to extend their ride. That would take a while. He continued to give another rendition of his and Geralt's first meeting, a bit truer to the actual events than what he relayed in his first famous ballad. But with her he didn't have to fear that any harm would come to the elves of Dol Blathanna.

Once he had finished, she was silent for a long while. Then she said: "The Hero is Geralt." It was not a question.

"He is."

"Then the story is not a good one," Cirilla said decisively. "I know the ending and it is not a happy one. You hate each other."

Jaskier smiled softly. "Oh, my dear princess. That is exactly why I told you this story. I know this might look like a grim ending but I promise you, it is not. If there had ever been a time to hate him it was there in that shitty tavern in Posada, when he was the Butcher of Blaviken. Before I came with him. Before I had made him the White Wolf. Before I had spent half my life in service to him and his heroics."

"What did he even do to make him hate you so?"

Jaskier flinched at the wording of that. 'I don't hate him,' he wanted to say. 'Not for a long stretch.' Instead he asked: "Shouldn't you ask him that?"

"I did!" Cirilla insisted. "And he tried to explain. But I don't think he even knows what he did wrong."

His heart clenched painfully and suddenly he had the pressing desire to weep. 'You lying bastard, as if you don't know' he thought and felt the anger flare up again. "Then it is not my place to tell you."

"But he hurt you?" Jaskier turned, surprised at the genuine concern in her voice. 'Maybe she doesn't take that much after Geralt after all.'

"Yes."

"A lot?" She blinked at him with large puppy eyes and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and embrace her.

"Yes."

"As much as my grandmother when she-" Cirilla's voice broke and she gulped.

"Oh my," Jaskier breathed. "Oh, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to remind you of that, dear girl, I-"

"It's alright," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "But it's nice to know that we have something in common."

Jaskier winced. "No, it probably hasn't hurt quite that much. But very nearly."

"Why?" she asked agonisingly. "How?"

"Sometimes the people we love most are the ones to hurt us most," he answered honestly.

She stared down at the reins she clutched tightly in her hands. "I still think it's a sad story."

"Oh, but you're seeing it wrong. We are not done yet; look around you." He spread his arms. "All the players are on the stage again! I think we are merely entering the second act. And I believe we might live to our happy ending yet."

She grunted and rolled her eyes, the spitting image of Geralt.

Jaskier couldn't help but laugh. The sound seemed to startle her. Did all sounds startle her or did he just laugh that little? "I see you are taking after our resident witcher."

"And that is a bad thing," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Not necessarily, no." He granted her a quick smile. "He's got a lot of good qualities. "

More silence followed as they ducked beneath the branches of a tree. Soon after Cirilla remarked: "You never say his name."

'She's very perceptive, that one.' Now it was him who stared at his hands, twirling his thumbs idly. "I suppose I do not."

"Why?"

He sighed heavily. How could he even begin to explain that? "I have shouted his name to every corner of the continent," he said thoughtfully. "The one you know and half a hundred others you surely will have heard. All to erase one unsavoury moniker. And it hasn't gotten me anything but rejection. I guess he has to earn it again."

They rode in silence for a while. To his surprise it was Cirilla again who spoke up first: "So you love each other?"

"I wouldn't know about him. But I guess I do."

"You don't kiss."

That startled Jaskier and Dancer snuffled when he pulled on the reins too harshly. "No, we don't. Never have."

"My grandmother and grandfather used to kiss all the time," she said with the innocence only a child could possess.

"I fear I cannot imagine that."

"It was gross."

He laughed. "That I can imagine. How about a faster pace?" he asked when they left the hill trail they had been on. When the princess nodded her assent, he pressed his heels into Dancer's sides, prompting her into a slow trot, not so fast that Cirilla couldn't follow. To his surprise she quickly sped past him and it was on him to catch up to her again, cursing and panting when he did.

"Cousin?" she asked, her voice lighter than ever before. "What about your name?"

"What about it?" he asked surprised.

"He said you forbade him to say it."

'Ah. That.' That truly wasn't his proudest moment. "I did."

"Why?"

"In part just because I was angry. In the beginning also, because I thought I could soothe my pain like that. I am no longer who I was with him and I can never be again."

"And now?"

"Now it's just fun to look at him trying to avoid saying it." He winked.

There was a smile tugging at Cirilla's lips. And then, for the first time since her arrival she laughed. It was a glorious sound, sweeter than any music he'd ever heard, as if sent from Melitele herself – he swore he would treasure it for the rest of his life. "You're mean!"

"Only a little," Jaskier replied and laughed, too. It was the first true laugh that had passed his lips since- since the Dragon Hunt truth be told. "But don't tell him, I want to see him dance around it for a little longer."

She drew her fingers over her lips, signifying her silence. Then, she asked: "What about me?"

"What about you, dear child?"

"What should I call you?"

"You, my dear, may call me whatever you like." He smiled brightly. "Though I think I'd like it best if you called me Jaskier."

"Jaskier," she said, tasting the sound of the name on her tongue. "I like that. It sounds pretty."

"I was very pretty when I chose it."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed it with all those wrinkles."

Jaskier placed his palm on his chest, gasping in mock-hurt. ‘She and Yennefer would be a great fit,’ he caught himself thinking. "Now who's the mean one?" To his never-ending amazement Cirilla laughed again. "What about your name. What should I call you?"

"Ciri. It's what everyone calls me."

"And you would like me to belong to that chosen few?" he teased.

"Yes, Jaskier," she answered. "I would like that very much."

"You know what I would like?"

"Hm?"

He leaned over to her so he could whisper in her ear even though they were still a few good paces away from the gatehouse. "Sneak in the kitchen and steal baked apples."

Ciri gasped a little. "We can do that?"

"Pfft," he answered and sat upright again, "who's going to stop us? The lord?"

"Isn't your cook going to be angry?"

"That, my dear," he tapped her on the nose, "is half the fun." He swung from his saddle and extended his arms to help her down. "Come with me?" he asked and this time when he extended his hand, she took it.

Once they had raided the kitchen for baked apples and other sweets – very unsuccessful in their attempt not to get caught – he led her to the North Wing, past Armoury and Dining Room and Study, to the floor where his personal quarters were along with two other bedrooms. He pushed the door to the smallest of the three open and Ciri nearly dropped the plate she was carrying.

"What is this room?" she asked in wonderment as she stepped inside. There was a narrow bed on the other end as well as a desk, but above all it was littered with toys – dolls and tin soldiers, a rocking horse and several toy swords, stuffed animals and balls and drums and everything a child could wish for. "Jaskier?"

"It's, um-" He cleared his throat. "It's my room. It was, rather. Until I was your age. A bit older maybe. I couldn't move you in here for propriety's sake, I'd never hear the end of it but you are welcome to come here anytime you like. Or the four bedrooms above, they're my sisters'. I'm sure they have more dolls and suchlike if you'd prefer tha- oof."

The air was pressed out of his lungs when Ciri hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered quietly and he gently stroked her head. "Can we stay for a while?"

He gulped. "Of course, little one. As long as you like." He sat down on the thick rug in front of the fireplace and watched the little princess flit around, seemingly eager to try out each and every one of the toys while he helped himself to the sweets they had abducted. Despite the host of toys in this room, he didn't have a lot of happy memories connected to this place. 'Maybe it's time to make new ones,' he thought.

"What are those?" Ciri shrieked in delight and showed a box to him.

"Oh!" he answered gleefully as he gingerly accepted the chest. "My puppets!" He had almost forgotten about them. "I invented my first stories with those."

"Can you tell me one? Or two?" she asked eagerly as she sat down.

"As many as you want. Let's see, I guess I'm a bit out of practice, but-" He dug through the chest, searching for the right puppet. "Once upon a time," he said impassioned as he tugged two of them free, "there was a Prince living in a tower. It was guarded by a fearsome Dragon..."

After no less than five of his earliest inventions his throat was sore from all the talking – how had he been able to sing for hours, gods, what had his life turned into? – and begged for mercy. Ciri, ever the lenient princess, granted it to him, moving the puppets about by herself for a while. Oh, what would he give to hear the story that bloomed in her head, a story about a knight with a fool's hat riding a kelpie with a prince no less?

"Jaskier?" she asked, hugging the prince close to her chest.

"Yes, Ciri?"

"What about the Narrator?"

"What about him?"

"In your stories," she explained, "everyone deserves to be loved. Even the villains. What about the Narrator?"

"I told you, my darling," he said softly, "his fate is inconsequential to the story. It doesn't matter whether he is loved or not."

"That's not true," Ciri whispered and for a moment he feared she would begin to cry, "Without him there would be no story at all. No happy ending." She hugged the prince closer. "And... it matters to me."

"Oh, my sweet darling girl," it was all he could do not to burst into tears, "the world doesn't deserve you." She looked very confused at that, so Jaskier offered: "Would you like another story?"

It was already getting late, Ciri was bedding her head on an embroidered pillow hugging a toy emperor tightly, and Jaskier could scarcely speak anymore when a quiet knock at the door announced Geralt. Ciri blinked sleepily up at him and Jaskier nodded curtly.

"I take it you had a pleasant afternoon?" the witcher asked. “And evening.”

"Very," Ciri answered and yawned as he leaned down to brush the hair from her face. "I like Jaskier."

Geralt gaped, though Jaskier could not say whether it was for the statement or the name.

He smiled contently and stood, walking over to the door.

Geralt cleared his throat. "You do not need to leave, my lord."

"I know," he said softly. "But I believe you have a lot to talk about." He hesitated at the door and looked back over his shoulder. "Sweet dreams, Ciri. Goodnight, Geralt." The look he got from both of them was priceless.

#my writing #of witchers bards and broken hearts #OWBABH #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla #geraskier fanfiction

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whitewitchdani · 4 years

Text

Laters, Baby: Chapter 6

Read Chapter 5 Here

Word Count: 2084

Pairing: Winchester!Sister x Lucifer

Warnings: angst, language

A/N: Chapter 6! I really like this chapter and I hope y’all like it too! :) let me know what you think or if you’d like to be tagged!

Laters, Baby Masterlist

Sam stood and began pacing the motel room, stopping to look out the window. The sun was up. Y/N had been gone for a couple of hours now and they still hadn’t heard anything from her. If Cas hadn’t flown out to check on her, he for damn sure would not be in this motel room just waiting.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. She looked so distraught when she left. He just wanted to talk to her to make sure she knew that Dean’s confession changed nothing. He and Y/N were still twins; peas in a pod, two sides to the same coin and any other expression he could think of. They’d been inseparable since he could remember and he did not want that to change. She was his best friend and he wouldn’t know what to do without her.

Sam was shaken from his internal struggle by the sound of the motel room door slamming. “She’s still not back yet??” Dean asked while setting coffee and breakfast on the table.

“No and I’m starting to get worried. She’s been gone for a while and Cas left an hour ago to check on her and I haven’t heard from him either. Should we go look for them?”

Dean sighed and took a long drink from his coffee. “Let’s eat first, give her some more time if she’s still just processing. If they’re still not back when we’re done, we’ll go look for them.”

Sam nodded at his brother as they both sat down at the table to eat. He went to take a bite of his food when Castiel burst through the door of the motel room. Sam looked the angel up and down; he looked like crap. Shit. This could not be good.

“Cas what the hell happened, man? You look like you got your ass kicked.” Dean got up to examine the cut on the angel’s forehead and looked behind him to the open motel door expecting Y/N to walk in next. “Where’s Y/N Cas?”

Cas took a deep breath, “She’s gone, Dean.”

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE?!” Dean bellowed in the angel’s face.

“I tried to save her Dean. We were talking in the park, I believe I was successful in helping her feel better regarding her situation, when demons appeared. Originally it was only Meg,” Dean cursed and Sam ran a hand down his face at the demons name. Would they ever be rid of her? “But then two more arrived to assist her. The two attacked me while Meg went after Y/N. She held her own but by the time I dealt with the two demons and tried to help her, Meg had rendered her unconscious and blinked away with Y/N in her arms. Most likely to Hell as I could not follow wherever it was they went.”

Sam jumped up from the table with wide eyes, “Meg works for Lucifer, Cas. Basically his right hand since he’s been topside. Dean, if Meg has her...”

“She took her straight to Lucifer. Dammit!” Dean punched the wall in frustration.

“Calm down! We need a plan. Lucifer is most likely in Hell; if we’re going to get Y/N out we’re going to need to find a way in. That means we need to call someone with direct access to Hell...”

“You don’t mean?” Dean asked Sam incredulously. Sam nodded sadly.

Dean sighed and wiped his hand down his face. With a punch downward, the eldest Winchester yelled, “FUCK!”

The first thing you noticed when you started to regain consciousness was the ache in the left side of your head/face. Your mouth was also extremely dry; when you went to lick your lips, you winced as your tongue grazed your split lip. Fucking demons. You went to rub the side of your head and found you couldn’t move your hands. You looked up and saw them chained above you.

“Owwwwww. Fucking demons, man.” As soon as you moved your head the pounding worsened. You pulled on your restraints with no luck; they were completely secure. All of the movement was causing your head to pound even more. “Fucking fuck. Fucking demon bitch.”

A chuckle came from the darkness in front of you, “You have quite the mouth on you little Winchester. Don’t worry though, I kinda like it.”

You looked ahead and saw two eyes flash red. Of course it was Lucifer, should you have expected anything less? “Lucifer. Wish I could say it’s good to see you, but I’ve tried to cut down on lying through my teeth.”

The devil chuckled once more, “Like I said, doll, quite the mouth.” The devil emerged from the darkness and came to stand right in front of you. His blue eyes met yours as he moved forward and cupped your face, running his thumb over the split in your lip. He tsked, “I told them to go easy, precious cargo and all. You must’ve really pissed Meg off.”

“I may have called her ugly, and told her to tell you to shove it up your ass. And then I broke her vessels nose.” You shrugged your shoulders as best you could with your arms strung up above you.

Lucifer laughed again. Odd, he sure does laugh a lot for being the freaking devil. “Feisty, I like it. You seem much less afraid of me than before. Have you warmed to me baby Winchester?” He asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, which made you wince; your head really did hurt. “I have a name you know? And I wasn’t scared of you last time necessarily. Just kinda shocked, I guess? Not everyday the devil shows up and says ‘I’m your soulmate!’ It was half shock and half thinking you were most likely full of shit.”

He looked at you and put two fingers to his chin, “And now? Do you still think I’m full of shit?”

You sighed, “No. I know you were telling the truth. We’re really soulmates.”

His eyes went wide but the ever-present smirk remained, “Really? I’m assuming you didn’t just take me at my word, I am the devil after all.”

“Well duh. Told my brothers and Castiel what you told me, and then I got to have Cas shove his arm up my ribcage so he could touch my soul. You know the fun, excruciatingly painful stuff.”

Lucifer’s face fell; he honestly looked upset. Did you say something wrong already? “You’re telling me my brother touched your soul?”

“Yes? He said it was the only way we could be absolutely sure. He touched it and said he could feel a connection to yours, meaning you were actually my soulmate. It’s been an interesting 12 hours let me tell you.” It hit you just how long this night had actually been. You were going on over 36 hours without sleep and were pretty sure Meg had given you a minor concussion when she knocked you out.

Lucifer noticed that the woman in front of him was struggling to keep her eyes open. “We’ll come back to that, what in Dad’s name is wrong with you?”

You rolled your eyes for at least the hundredth time that night. “Well Lucifer, where should I start? I’m strung up by my arms in what I’m assuming is Hell, correct?” Lucifer nodded. “Your demon bitch split my lip and gave me a concussion; I haven’t slept in over 36 hours; I’m starving; oh, and tonight I’ve found out that not only is the devil my soulmate, but that my brothers aren’t even really my brothers! Yep my birth mom just ditched me on a motel doorstep. John and Dean lied to me and Sam for years.” You let out a breathy laugh and let your head loll down. You were so tired, mentally and physically.

Lucifer tilted his head at you. That certainly explained a lot. Something odd was happening though, he was feeling something for you. He felt... bad? He had the desire to comfort you and to try to make things better. What the fuck, Lucifer? She’s a human. He internally scolded himself but his new feelings won out. He sighed, “If I take you down you have to promise to behave.”

You looked up at him incredulously, “What would I do, Lucifer? I’m half unconscious and you’re a friggin’ archangel, I think I’m a bit outgunned here.”

Lucifer snorted, “Touché, baby Winchester.” He snapped his fingers and the chains disappeared, causing you to fall to the cold, stone ground with a yelp.

“Ow,” you rubbed your head and then your wrists before standing up, “And are you going to keep calling me that? I have an actual name.”

“I enjoy it, but since you aren’t technically a Winchester it isn’t as fun anymore. What’s your name again?”

“Y/N. And I’m still a Winchester Lucifer, just not by blood. Speaking of blood, I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but can I ask you a favor?”

Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up and he grinned, “So eager to make a deal with the devil already Y/N?”

“No, no deals, just consolation for kidnapping me and for Meg beating the crap out of me. Can you please heal me? I’m assuming you’re going to want me conscious for whatever it is you have planned and with the concussion and lack of sleep that will be an issue very soon.”

Lucifer placed a finger to his chin as he contemplated your request. “I suppose you make a good point.” He removed his finger from his chin and placed two to your forehead.

When he touched you, you felt the familiar soulmate connection spark through you. It was followed by the cooling sensation of his grace, its flowing tendrils moving to each part of your body to heal the wounds left behind by Meg. “There. Happy now?”

“Thank you, Lucifer. While I could still go for four hours and a sandwich, I feel better.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. He should just kill you and get this over with. If the soulmate connection was allowed to blossom and eventually be consummated, you would be a weakness. But he couldn’t, and he was cursing his father for it. “Come with me.”

You raised an eyebrow but followed Lucifer as he exited the room and turned left into the corridor. As you followed, demons bowed to Lucifer as he passed but brought their heads up in time to glare at you. The devil bringing a human woman into Hell, a Winchester at that, was probably not an everyday occurrence.

He stopped at an ornate door isolated at the end of a corridor, Lucifer turning to you with a smirk on his face. “This is yours. You will stay in this room when you are not with me, I certainly don’t need a Winchester running loose through Hell. Everything you will need is in here.”

You looked at him dumbfounded as he pushed the door open. The inside looked like a nice one-bedroom apartment that you’d find in a city somewhere, not deep in the bowels of Hell. As you stepped inside you entered a living area with a large couch and television along with a massive bookshelf on the wall completely filled. As you trailed your fingers along the spines you noticed they were some of your favorites: a mix of classics and new fiction. You went deeper into the apartment, passing through the exquisite kitchen and into the bedroom. In there, a king size bed sat in the middle of the room clad in red.

“Red, Lucifer? Really? Isn’t that a bit too on the nose?”

“I’m nothing if not one for the classics.” He smirked and sat down on the edge, “There will be a demon posted outside this door at all times, the only person allowed in and out is me. If you need anything, just tell them. I have some Hell business to attend to; if I knew this place became so bureaucratic and paperwork-centric while I was away, I may have just let Crowley keep it.”

With that, Lucifer stood and exited your new, what was this place even, chambers? Upscale prison cell? You didn’t know. All you knew was that you were stuck in Hell at Lucifer’s beck and call, and that it most likely was not going to end well.

You missed Sam and Dean.

Read Chapter 7 Here

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@lovesamwinchester @tomhiddleston-is-mischief @loco-latte @stuckinsaudi1

#laters baby #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fandom #supernatural x reader #SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfic #spn x reader #dean winchester #dean x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #Sam Winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #castiel #lucifer #lucifer x reader

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micahscowgirl · 4 years

Text

Bite Me ~ Chapter 1

Micah Bell x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Cussing

Word Count: 2802

This is my first post and my first story. I know it’s not the best ever and I know that there are mistakes, but I enjoyed writing it and I hope that y’all enjoy reading it. Sorry in advance... Micah has my heart on a rope dragging behind him.

Chapter 1

You have been with the Dutch Van der Linde gang for just over two months. You hooked up with them in Blackwater after a run-in with Dutch himself. He saw your life for what it was: pointless. You were working as a "waitress" in a saloon. Bossed around by the owners and your pleasure-seeking customers. Life wasn't so great for you. Dutch pulled you out of it and gave you a new one.

It had only been a month since you had joined your new family when everything went south for the gang. A heist went sour. Everyone was frantic, packing the camp and running around like ants in their tunnels. Everyone seemed so accustomed to it, but it was all happening so fast, you had to step away to breathe. It startled you when Dutch put his hand on your shoulder and, in all this madness, he smiled. "Y/N, I know this is all happening very fast and you haven't been with us for very long, but we would all be grateful for you to join us on our journey."

You had become quite fond of your new friends, but Blackwater is where you spent your entire life. You were born there, raised there, abandoned by your parents, abused, worked as a whore, taken advantaged up, spent too many nights crying, sore, and broke... It wasn't as hard as a decision as you had thought it would be.

"Of course I will join you and your Family, Dutch. I am a part of this now, too. This has become my battle."

He smiled. "I was hoping you would say that." He stood and began to walk off. A few steps away, he stopped and turned to face you. "Y/N,"

"Yes, Dutch?"

"This isn't just 'our' family, it's your family now, too." He turned back and walked away.

~~~~~~

It was a month now since the gang left Blackwater. Unlike the other women of the camp, you were treated differently. They all knew you were stronger, tougher than the others. Dutch saw it, Hosea saw it, and even Arthur saw it. After the terrible start of spring in Colter, they saw your talents. You had signs of a leader in you, but also a beast that would fight and steal and, overall, make the gang a whole lot of money.

That is why you are where you are now: sitting at a bar in Strawberry, drinking whiskey, and working with--or more like babysitting--the biggest asshole you know. Micah Bell. He is an overall twisted person, always picking and prying at people's skins, trying to dig out the worst in them. He was one of the few people in the gang that you didn't get along with--Pearson and Molly O'Shea being the other two. He would spend evenings stirring and twisting people up, trying to catch them on fire. He must get off on the idea of someone's brain completely blocked out by rage, almost to the breaking point.

At the moment, he was playing cards with a few guys. No one at that table seemed to be enjoying themselves. They could've been shoveling cow shit and have been a little more enthused. Wearing frowns on all of their faces and fashioning cigarettes and shot glasses either in their hands or in arms reach. No easy conversations, just harsh glares. They're only playing for money, not for sport.

After your second beer and third shot, you felt drunk enough to get a good night's rest in an unfamiliar bed. You paid for your drinks and room and made your way up the stairs. After pulling off your hat, shirt, holster, boots, and riding pants, it didn't take long for you to fall asleep when your head hit the pillow.

You were woken up just under an hour later by the sound of glass breaking and guns firing. Jumping out of bed, you grabbed your pistol and crouched on the side of the bed opposite the door, pointing it and waiting. After waiting what felt like forever, you could hear lawmen bringing the commotion to a halt. You stayed in your position a few minutes after the saloon had become quiet again, before standing up and sliding back in under the covers. You had seen your fair share of bar fights: fists, knives, and guns, and you knew the best way to handle them was to just stay out of the way but also remain alert. Keeping your gun closer this time, you managed to fall back asleep very quickly. If you dreamed, you didn't remember them.

~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning to a beautiful stream of sunlight making its way into the room. After getting up and stretching, you slide back into your clothes and head out back to the outhouse. After relieving yourself, you made your way around the saloon to your horse. "Hey girl, how was your night?" you say, pulling an apple out of your bag and feeding it to your horse. You pull out your horse brush and begin to wipe away the past days’ grime from its brown fur. After making your way around to the other side, you see him. Baylock, Micah's horse, but instead of being hitched with yours like it was the previous evening, it was standing in front of the town's jail.

"You stupid son of a bitch." You say to yourself. As your brain starts to wash away the sleep and alcohol, you realize that he must've been part of the commotion in the saloon that past night. You mount your horse and begin to trot closer. You see two lawmen standing outside of the door.

"The man in green," --an O'Driscoll, you know-- "said the other guy wasn't in town alone." You freeze. "Says there was a woman with him. Or a girl. She was at that age it was hard to tell." You bow your hat and direct your horse in a different direction. As soon as you passed sight of the town, you kicked your feet and rushed your way back to Horseshoe Lookout. Thinking of your failed mission to find a lead, you realize that Micah has yet again found a way to make your skin burn and your fists tighten. He just had that special talent.

~~~~~~

It was a few days later when you heard that Arthur had broken Micah out, making quite a mess in the process. It was early morning, and you were helping Mary-Beth wash some clothes in a nearby stream when she told you what had happened.

"Micah just had to get his guns from some poor fool in town. Arthur says that Micah shot the guy immediately and then started shooting every lawman and even a few people who tried to get in the way of his escape." She chuckled. "I can't believe Dutch keeps Micah around. Nothing but trouble that bastard is."

"Yeah, and poor Arthur is always picking up his messes it seems." You say just as Arthur starts to walk up.

"Speak of the devil," Mary-Beth says. "We were just talking about how much trouble you are, cowboy." She has always had a thing for Arthur. You wouldn't be surprised if they'd hooked up in the past after a drunken night. If it hasn't happened yet, it was sure to one day.

"You know me, ladies, always picking fights and firing people up. I can't keep my guns holstered for two seconds without getting bored. Oh wait, that's Micah, the asshole that almost got me killed."

"How did that go, by the way?"

"Well, Y/N, I busted him out, broke the damn bars outside his cell, should've been able to get out with minimal casualties, but then our dear pal just had to retrieve his precious guns. We ended up shooting the whole damn town. Barely made it out of there alive. After we got out, he told me that he was going to hang back and try to get something to bring to camp. He called it a 'peace offering'."

"Sounds about right," Mary-Beth says as she drops the shirt she was working on into the basket with the rest of the cleaned clothes. You follow suit and stand, picking up the basket.

"Here, let me grab that for you," Arthur grabs the basket from under your arm. "Don't need y'all doing all the work." He says with a wink. Mary-Beth giggles, you smile. "Y/N, Dutch wants you to head over to his tent. I think he might have a lead for you. Mary-Beth, I can help you hang these up." She happily skips off with him, turning her head to you to shoot you a smile.

Dutch is standing with Hosea in his tent. "If you could, Hosea, meet with Arthur later and discuss our next move. Speak with Bill as well, and I heard Uncle might have a lead, too."

"Will do, Dutch." He turns to leave, nodding at you as he passes. "Miss."

You return the gesture and walk up to Dutch. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think I got a lead for you if you're not busy that is. A stagecoach hit, near Strawberry. I know you just returned from your trip there, but I think this will be a perfect job for you since you're so good at playing the part." He's referencing your innocent damsel in distress act. It's a classic, works every time.

"I'm not busy, wouldn't mind some fresh air away from the camp, that's for sure. Washing and mending clothes isn't really my thing."

"Then it's settled." He pulls out his map and tells you his plan. Payroll coach--should be easy enough.

As soon as Dutch is done, you say your goodbyes and head to your horse.

~~~~~~~

It was mid-afternoon when you arrived at the spot Dutch told you. You hitched your horse in the woods nearby and found a tree to sit next to while you waited. It would still be over an hour before it arrived so you figured you'd get comfortable.

It had been about 40 minutes according to your pocket watch, the sun starting to go behind some hills in the distance. It was still early spring, so the sun set earlier than you liked. Keeping yourself occupied, you picked at the grass around you, pushed your boots around in the dirt, and watched some birds building a nest in a nearby tree. The tree started hurting your back, so you had scooted to sit criss-cross instead, imagining the native Americans sitting around their fires, beating drums, and dancing. They always seemed so happy, so at peace. So lost in thought, you didn't notice the steps behind you, snapping branches and dragging the dirt. It wasn't until you felt a presence inches from your back that your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't react in time; an arm grabbed your torso, locking your arms to your body. A hand covered your mouth. Your heart was racing, your body shifted, trying to loosen yourself, but the grip was too strong, your eyes began to water in terror.

"Aren't you a little far from home, dollface?" the voice was deep, coming from lips right next to your ear, touching just barely. You shiver, chills running down your entire body. "A damsel like yourself shouldn't be out by herself, there are sick people out there that would just love to take advantage of such a tight, young body." The hold tightens, the strength is unreal, your body crumbles, moving closer to the ground. The weight on your back is too much. You feel tears running down your face.

You try to say "Please. Leave me be." but all that comes out is a muffled noise coming from your throat.

The voice becomes lighter and immediately more familiar. "What was that, Y/N? I can't hear you. And are you crying?" He chuckles.

It's Micah, that asshole. He loses his grip on you, letting you fall forward onto the ground, right into the dirt you were digging at what felt like decades ago.

"Micah... you bastard!" you wheeze. You gather the strength to push yourself from the ground. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"I should be asking you the same question. You shouldn't be out here by yourself. Especially if you're going to be stealing someone else's lead."

You looked up at him, the tears had drawn lines in the dirt on your cheeks. "You can have the damn coach. And you better not try to pull any shit like that ever again. Not with me, or anyone else." You get back on your horse and begin to ride away. "Fuck you, Micah."

"I'll consider your offer." He says as you trot away. You feel heat return to your face, and your eyes begin to water once more.

~~~~~~

The next evening is when Micah made his return. The take must have been huge because everyone was celebrating, and most of them didn't like Micah just like yourself. Although, everyone always happily invites a reason to drink and pretend that everything in the world is good. While most of the camp gathered around the fire, you stood from a distance and watched with a beer in hand. Javier was playing his guitar and Uncle was leading the others in song. Micah sat with Dutch's arm around his shoulder, holding a conversation with him and Arthur. Arthur hated Micah about as much as you did, but the fact that he was keeping himself in the conversation for as long as he was, let you know just how great that stagecoach ended up being. That should've been your prize.

Working on your second beer, your mind started to turn. You wanted revenge on him. There was one thing you could think of that would really make him pissed, and that was confusing him, playing with his head. Turning his own tricks against him.

After everyone had started to head to their tents, you knew that soon Micah would head out. He didn't have a tent, mainly because he suffered from insomnia, but also because Miss Grimshaw refused to make him one. The fire was getting dim now, but you could still make out his figure. Once he turned to walk into the trees, you followed. He claimed a tree to lean on about 50 paces away from camp. He was facing away, so you quietly made your way up behind him, stopping about five feet behind him. He lit a cigarette and started to smoke.

"Where's my cut?" You say, making him jump, turning to face you.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N! You shouldn't go sneaking up on people like that!"

"You're one to talk." You walk a little closer to him. "Once again, where's my cut, Micah?"

"You don't get one, you didn't earn it."

"You might see it that way, but I think I did my part. I let Dutch know what happened to you. Although, thinking back, I believe I might have left out a part." He frowns. "Yeah, that's right! I left out the part where you were playing cards with a couple of O'Driscoll boys. Maybe I should fill Dutch in on the whole story." You smirk.

Micah laughs nervously, kicking at the ground. "You know Y/N," he starts moving closer, but you hold your ground. "you really are a little twisted 'damsel in distress', aren't you?"

"Why indeed I am." He's moved so close to you, you feel his heat and smell the whiskey on his breath. His blue eyes are looking straight into your soul, but you don't let him see it."Now, my cut?"

He sticks his cigarette in between his lips and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out 50 dollars and hands it to you. "There, for all of your hard work."

You count it. Slowly. Twisting his nerves. "Hmm... I think this is a little short." You look up at him and he snarls. You reach up and take the cigarette out of his mouth and place it in your own, taking a long draw. You release the smoke directly into his face. "There, that covers it." You pat his cheek. All he does is glare at you, hard. His chest is rising and lowering faster than normal.

"Fuck you, Y/N."

"I'll consider your offer." You say with a smile and walk away. You feel his eyes on you, but you continue to walk. Out of everything that has happened, there is one thought that surfaces above the rest. When taking the cigarette from his lips, you noticed how surprisingly soft they were. You shake the thought away, and head back to your tent to rest, a smile staying strong on your face.

#micah bell smut #micah bell x reader #micah bell #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #smut #rdr2 fanfic

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impala-dreamer · 4 years

Text

King Midas

SPN FanFic

~Dean gets hit with a curse and Y/N makes an unloseable bet.~

Dean x Reader, Sam

1,815 Words

Warnings: CRACK! It's just Crack, little smut chatter. Nothing too bad.

A/N: Sometimes you just need something ridiculous... Do hope you enjoy... ;)

Feedback is Gold ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon

Bright light settled into a golden glow that pulsed around the room. Glass peppered the Oriental rug like shards of deadly confetti and a cold breeze blew through the now open windows; all shattered by the witch’s blast.

“Ya know!” Y/N’s voice rang through the room, annoyance clear in her yell.

A big hand reached for her and she took it, allowing Sam to help her to her feet. “You OK?” he asked gently, hazel eyes brown in the gilded light that set around the edges of the disheveled room.

Y/N looked up and sighed, squinting up at him, aggravated. “Do you have any idea how many curses were flung at me before I met you two dumbasses?”

Dean laughed from the floor across from them and popped up on one elbow. “A few, I’m guessing.”

“None!” she yelled back, pulling a long piece of glass from her hair. “None.”

Sam held in a laugh, knowing she would calm down soon. She often called them dumbasses when she was annoyed and tired. It was like a pet name. A really rude, insulting pet name.

“Sorry, Y/N/N.” Sam swiped his hand across her shoulder and shooed away some dust and glass. “You cut anywhere?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nah, I’m fine. Just tired of getting knocked out by random colorful blasts. How come every witch we meet has the super rainbow explosion power?”

He shrugged and laughed under his breath. “I wish I knew.”

From the floor, Dean cleared his throat. “At least you didn’t take the rainbow bomb in the chest.”

“Oh shit, Dean,” Y/N cringed. “Are you alright?”

He waved a dismissive hand and then flipped over onto his stomach, pushing up on his hands and knees. “I’m fine. Can’t keep me down.” As he spoke, his lower back twitched painfully and he bowed, belly headed back towards the floor. “Gah!”

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Sam sniggered.

Dean grit his teeth and pushed hard on his hands, splaying his palms out flat on the rug. “Shut up, Sam!” A hot tingle spread down Dean’s right arm, starting at the shoulder and pushing down like warm syrup into his fingers and out the tips. “Oh…” Dean looked down and watched as the warmth left his hand and pulsed against the floor, fibers of the carpet heating up beneath his touch. “What the-”

“Dean?”

He turned to see Y/N’s annoyance gone, replaced with concern. Her eyes were big, her brow creased with worry. He shot up quickly, immediately forgetting the weird tingle.

“I’m good,” he said, shooting her a smile. “You guys hungry? I’m hungry.” He adjusted his collar and pushed passed them both, nearly knocking Y/N over as he headed for the door. “Saw a diner down the block. Daddy needs bacon.”

He may have needed bacon, but actually eating it didn’t seem like it was going to happen.

As soon as they left the witch’s house it started to happen; her curse taking on its form, showing off for the trio.

It started with the door knob but it was harder to notice since it was already metal. He lingered there, turning the knob in his hands as he waited for Sam and Y/N, and the tingle returned to his body.

Next was the iron railing coming down the front steps. They stood on the porch for a moment recounting some random information about the case, Dean leaning on his hand against the cold black metal. Again, the tingle flowed from his shoulder straight down until it left his hand.

If Dean had bothered to say something or hang out for a few more seconds, he would have seen what the warmth was doing. But as it was, he was hungry and failed to see that the things he touched turn to gold in his wake.

When shining gold began to overtake the weathered leather of the steering wheel, the Impala swerved dangerously on the country road and Dean screamed, driving off into the shoulder to park and panic.

“What the fuck!” Dean’s hands flew up and away from the wheel, his precious car becoming a victim of some quick working alchemy as he watched on in horror. He braced himself against the back of the seat, tingling beginning again as he clutched the upholstery.

“Well, that’s new…” Sam said curiously, leaning over the bench seat to look at the wheel.

The backseat squeaked as Y/N moved forward, looking over Dean’s heaving chest to see the gilded circle. It looked as if he had gold-leafed a perfect handprint on the leather.

“Whelp, guess we know what the curse was,” she said with a small laugh, sitting back and crossing her arms.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Dean’s head spun to look at her over his shoulder, brows creased, lips in a pout. “What!”

“You got the Midas Touch, my friend,” she said, nodding to the hand still clutching the back of his seat.

Sure enough, below his hand was a hard patch of pure gold.

Dean made a dying bleat noise and pulled his palm away from the seat. “Son of a bitch! My car!” Instinctively, he rubbed at his cheek, forgetting or perhaps not realizing what the strange tingling in his forearm foretold.

“Dean!” Sam barked, slapping Dean’s hand away from his face.

“What?” Dean looked from Sam to his own palm and then to the newly golden interior and his gears turned. “Oh, fuck me…”

“Not until this curse is over, Big Guy,” Y/N laughed, clicking her tongue.

Dean cast an annoyed glance in her direction. “This isn’t funny, Y/N!”

“Kinda is…”

“Is not!”

“OK, both of you shut up!” Sam commanded and the Impala fell silent. “Let’s just deal with this logically.”

Dean looked back at Sam like a boy who just found out there’s no Santa Clause. “How, Sam? How? How am I gonna eat? I need to eat.”

Y/N bit her tongue to stifle a laugh but couldn’t help making a comment. “He’s worried about food,” she said under her breath. “Wait till he has to take a piss…”

Dean found a bit of comfort in the old diner, hiding away in a booth in the back, old red vinyl seat molding to his tired ass as he sat there, forlorn and helpless. Every so often, Y/N would take pity on him and lift his burger to his lips, doing her best to feed the poor soul and not laugh in his face.

“So, it looks like the curse will wear off in twenty-four hours…” Sam swiped through the lore book on his laptop and shrugged. “Not too bad.”

Absentmindedly, Dean picked at a piece of bacon on his plate, jaw dropping as Sam seemed to brush off his predicament. “No big deal? Sam...I’m dying here. I’m gonna have to wear mittens to bed.”

Y/N shook her head. “Wouldn’t the mittens just turn to gold?”

Dean rolled his eyes at her. “Why are you so nasty this week?”

She sneered. “I don’t know. Just tired of witches and their bullshit.”

“Same,” Dean agreed with a sigh and lifted the bacon to his lips. He took a bite and immediately spit it back out. “Oh, come on! Not the bacon!”

“Everything you touch, Dean. Bacon, the car, your shirt, you! Everything.” Sam over enunciated the last word just to drive the point into his brother’s head, but Dean just slumped in his seat and pouted some more.

“This blows.”

Y/N grinned and looked at Sam. “Twenty bucks says he’s got golden junk by morning.”

Dean sat straight up and gasped. “Excuse me! I can control myself for twenty-four hours!”

“No, Dean,” she laughed. “You can’t.”

Dean lounged on the bed, fully clothed atop the comforter, propped up by pillows. He sat with his palms up, hands resting on his thighs. He was exhausted.

“Pssst!”

Sam looked up from his laptop slowly, distracted by Dean’s less than quiet call. “What?”

“What if…” He paused, looking towards the bathroom door behind which, Y/N was changing for bed. “What if I accidentally like grab her boobs while I’m sleeping?”

Sam laughed, head shaking as he wondered why Dean was such an idiot sometimes. “Just don’t touch her.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean whispered loudly, “what if I do?”

“Then that would suck,” Sam said simply. “So don’t.”

Another look at the bathroom door and Dean groaned pathetically. “Can I sleep with you?”

Sam scoffed. “What? No!”

Dean growled and pouted. “You suck.”

“Ready for bed?” Y/N appeared in the doorway, night shirt loose around her thighs but tight across her chest.

Dean drooled. “Uh, yeah.”

She hopped into the bed beside him and pecked his cheek sweetly. “No touchy.”

Her smile was both enticing and mocking, but Dean couldn’t decide which was more appealing. The idea of not being able to touch her all night was driving him mad.

“No touchy,” he echoed, silently praying that his hands would just fall off.

“Night, Sam!” Y/N called over Dean’s chest.

“Night,” Sam murmured back.

“Great,” Dean sighed as Y/N lay down and snuggled up against his side, her plump ass warm against his leg. “Just...great.”

“Oh, fuck…”

A moan tickled Y/N’s ear and she stirred.

“Goddamn, baby...mhm… just like that.”

Sam’s dream began to fade.

“Oh, shit. Shit. Shit!”

A scream woke them both and Sam jumped from his bed to bang on the bathroom door, Dean’s frantic yell making his heart race. Y/N bolted up out of bed too, right behind Sam, her breath short with worry.

“Dean!” Sam banged again, giant fist rattling the entire door. “What’s going on?”

The noise died down and the door opened up, bright white light spilling into the dark room.

Dean stood in the bathroom, his face twisted with guilt and pain, his shorts tented boldly. Y/N looked down to the fabric pop-up and saw a hint of gold glinting from the flap.

Sam saw it too and shook his head. “Dean… no.”

Y/N rubbed her tired eyes and turned away, headed back to bed. “I called it!” She shook her head and plopped back down into bed, gathering up her pillow and closing her eyes. “I fucking called it.”

Sam looked down at Dean and sighed. “One night, man. One.”

Dean shrugged innocently and laughed at himself. “I… I couldn’t help it. I’m a man. I have urges, Sam.”

“Yeah, well now you got a golden dick!” Y/N called from the bed.

“This sucks.” Dean’s shoulders fell and he looked down at his 24 carat cock.

“Hey,” Sam said, trying to make him feel a little better, “at least you didn’t grab her boobs…”

Dean grunted and pushed passed his brother to go lay down. “Yeah… shut up, Sammy.”

2019 Forever Tags:

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#spn fanfic #dean x reader #crack #one shot

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