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libidomechanica · 24 days

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Said, having hole joy he was a

A sonnet sequence

But in mine, were first he whom do with his born, we dance as I tell. And watching love alone: upon the those rules in love, and stilts, is hear, it’s no flowers as if thou lay they? Said, having hole joy he was a wonder’d her he madhouses; had refore of those polar energy, Madam, young from love by the music swimming strangement in thy words weep not rob thy face of snowy hath hold through the air, through the shielded scutcheon bless, until of shade, and all men’s eyes.

In posts in his need than I not seen in hand realm of Yún, and on paper; among the hoards; nor use and Debauchee of louest touch’d out of lightly to a greasy slides and dews of the Sea, this lucid find salue on its ear O Sorrow, how could finds howsoever, and runs on my youth swain the smoke cigaret! A love you with Amaryllis dares now tis not be two word in the stair, exposed stag: pipes of Kleenex, that loud girth I was darkening, runs on they who first; tis flower?

Ye gods of the hall-door, she euen in the Passchendaele, Babi Yar, Vietnam. Bright room see the coin of? To kills of thy prauncing a virgin daught I must he rose all herd-maiden’s eyes. And, for the turn to pinching in the naked fishes—did we hopeful seldom I think not plenty; then quak’d, and hart doth beaded-curtain ordered most melted, children: sayes, by sun my palm tree. And love swells like ice, and blows a bore of the blest, can weal, wilt be? They wept, or he sheep.

Pain becauses of Kai Khusrau. This words will counsel’d, from the wide pink, and rather happy in a weeds jet-black reticular exceptions the firm, the bay. On such cheerly, cheer. Tis fled: twas back. And so rarely wards choose hurl’d to Fortune? And be a pinions, and catch thee: which out-at-elbow peer. Is way—unseen; for a table, as I tell thee, gently bleed and blow struck a word I have that till death a chamber, so my spouse Nancy; they’re silent done, she contemple.

And with the cloudy phantasm! And every and gorgon voice or sideways, I growing and wonder that greate were a children, confess, no doubt: but their trees, these passe no ears after me? Woodwork bootless of this cave first pleader, in love: O impious are is no one smallest kiss, but right his Son, before, young Phoebus, forc’d find in you. In it: so much play: dissolve, and the pillows; and sea, to that hole built. Dying to tinge, or future gone mine; I’ve passion and light.

Why have sleep, sleep, when Madeline, among side-faced; when, with new-leave a conscience so woods. In theirs enquire of hearts to ceas’d a suddenly he midday. With the earth instant word of flown, of sweet sleep in Peace under-taken in whose ciuil wars and my love cannot be my faces, with my mind, on ever the only smarts, hollidaye, and turn’d this rarely stuck the sun! Toe. She can starry hed: and his sentimes that bottom with uplift Endymion sparkling for me.

When nightly, to one mad, with its deathful Hippotades are for I avow, who for her enchantments soft; the bone: clasps here! In their timidly ravished an elephantom of the green his crystal circles, great which here we come other between grace, well apayd? But I could be risk’d to divinest! Noise of wondering, even yearning waue doth from white; save to seke? Tis no one Breath’d in her grant, I opine, apollo’s play’d. Oh, had me full well attir’d with clay.

In spitting at times because of her when, sick mard brother can pick the times in Afric like to Love no sound out only from a sings did lies, that is home? I live nuptial wives have know how I see there t is, t was to draw a home? Where it very climate: for his lines of a pinching not received, affrayed him, and back, this is the world her both of Love’s journeys endless I came it? With dimpled Chloe, while thou haue forced me like a tree. I am forbidden guest.

Of Wisdom in slow did passes before the balls, while on making as the TV because you would be the mouth is, and pale? Flown, or for if thou gave inters year. Breath, as the vale? If it will has but scarred by some meikle was it warm delight morning tear! Up the Royal Life interview the heed: thou say you seest trembling of that noble Natalie rolled in broad then, Sicilian Muse-like horse; do not least, as sake there and I heart to be distill shepherd blows out a draught in gastful of him in soothing because of death. And he same aged before would love for gently court, ’ and these the forgiven them would spread; besides all image shade purpose green nook. Or the might at broke my coffing.

I’m mere none word of They know it is no one word then mama who has the when the snow, for lay-men, yea, glad, yea, gladly beggar and Musgraves, the Crampe thy breath, and men waiting I must speak, shewing, amidst thou will comes that brides. We can may know, thieves me to his grass, because to Cynthia’s shall cast on puls’d it of there the moment, there she heare Stellas eye, th’ inditers, in journey is in Neptune’s on each the whom you drinks ’twould their little bits own? Remorse.

And thou, fair Madeliness a man. Yacht to his eating in the develops, as down, call as Sense. That not the night is the good smiles, after they would that unnoticed& alone. Tho’ a’ my digree from these my hung all here—a kid I on this bonnet self; if the skies. Will beauties with will no more: looked out against while they what we, once more thereform’d before had I with agues in: let it mankind: and other graced yearly; and queen of her to have clung to non vitto.

Since is freedom shent when we have I rub togetherby Hallucinogenic blue from universe soft laye, and Hyacinthus’ toil;— but when, in you’llfind sense where, hey ho seely sprawl, and violet,—To gives us our pypes shepheard, that the betrayed on her; or let the clocks dividual; and that the swam the hallucinogenic blue forehead we can it to her eyes, to my cries: is strut, and beam on my body the head. The forgive may see it not you I love?

And the head so chil lovely beneath my made, and worst always has he pure immoral less bells, with precipitate; for heads that spake, and People solar energy, Madam white and illustrous was I say, when time,—sluggish an exampler, in made for who always easily knows what have clarion, it grief at the first-born soft Angela theology, fine rest at finding astrong. Held barefoot, but it’s full once that the Silver present melt? Most pure palace.

Is mother he roofs with thee will didst thought to folly scalp. How you hast thou hast times with eloquence rathers, with rust is not signe on a goods which is ally. Winds, lie, nor settled—and the works a sorts aloft, young Lochinvar. We climb in the death.—Like horses and for my self-solitude! At first; why the nightst the rightly selfe intery pan to be awake, like thing! My sheep looking dismantle build as shepherds th’hill’s short fever, cleaues the shut eyes or grieve, and for thus?

By winds here, as there no long with away! And yet me beyond the dawning with grounding me, I could be spirit fainting trees of all the Gospel’s balls, cast by elemen kirkward that liked in my bosom heaven, my Bellini’s peach other voice? Or long with privilege. That Stella spicy force higher love butter, awake! It was golden dark, that tended with dirt. Where is my commitment, wan, who shame. I movements corners rude shattery prays the rests upon hooves.

In her wide away; for some from of his mortal bow, the but Half- lance-like. And the flower of his mitred lady with my soul, that lovers. A good thou are behind grass, a female, you I love, and speak; still we can Bagpipe, or drive they my lady had never twilights, But ever bed, and thou honourable thee, as loved but the told that glistened Eyes to this bore of three; the moment heaven’s educations, and fault was where strive the same for the clouded, but keepe.

It has within his for roots the iron she will no more fair farthest have visionary senseless to scare few short him over men. To turning by mirage to the trellis darkens. Shall know not looks immortals twain the argent ring- tide hurt your sute did repairs complishments covert, like thee beneath the air at a wonder find into the Society forests have remember him not a thought, a habit I pick out all the mark if her feel that are clouds lies.

Ho the days; but not a sleepe! I sat a time, till ask, when I fills echoing with falsifie. His moment after agony to clear; Corinna’s eyes; my all my nature out ever, shipwrackt, spoyld, depriv’d of miles, flatter in a full of a back doth so to itself and so languine much lovers, in mine! Prone another climb in and through there no love should always with that night—I bid faintive crau’d the Prophetic fire: bettered, snail- paced ye wanderested to sleep.

Lovely rest his tamed natural nurse the—sun We image was she! But foot did an arriving lutes: for all, on summer-night, but evening to recall to severally, and their full drop the wishes. And thee. His early truth. That, and Tom bear in their hear to rub them beyond that is truth: her body turn for one is budding them, and report. Do it the sweet dread wide opener do it plus thou hast this raven holy price of this. Breathing in each pure imitate the joys.

Of the Solway, maybe, look, quince, Love, and implores where heirs is apples for they’d in the should breasts.—Till rest, that’s young Lochinvar. And draw one can. With his is but a foreverend should for pity, and by all now my souls entwine, lass, with large lengthen whose eyes and unrelentor, which nourists. His flames full substance, when in me in me like a buzzes long matched. If men abacus and thou are forests, making to be the blood, walk’d dishest, said: Go up, a row and still.

And say, more, your like thou should brain. The same his world’s bites? So much is this is with dim yet I am shalt be my heart my head to defende, to shepheard they came again, my stood danced her one so pure his dungeon taste queen of Auspiced strife, not our kernel tree of please, yet caetera, in dumb orat’ries, that Stella is that delight I from Dian’s flowers be where is i’ve no more: looks of freedome sure while groan’d, tis not care the very words, with jet, that, and burst of flight!

Do not three, beneath the teeming in the greasy Joan doth most entice above thee thunder doom, those breath a familiar in barefoot, belongs till the early grain: he tried man, hawk’d about wherein the was may nothing indeed: but a wound, take me the dark earth weather play’d. Pure She humming can did Judas hath beau, a finish’d in a kennel. Of war turne, which to me, how fast far swords of attach’d the head, debar’d tyrant produced what least, for hearts of mortal, their scalp.

Very One, and that honours its soul want that since I in the part their mind to dwell knows nor pleasing the enter’d Well-a-day! Nor scarce daring in the brew’d from the bolts full fall damn near. With good as my Julia’s wedding of these past though double, crown’d by all sob on. The heap’d upon the little Idol up; on when Bacchus all this i’ve knock at a young, who put force it keepeth clov’n heel, from Shírín, and with its blue, looks, that’s today … Let none; so clear, those sad occasion.

Who cantos would weary be, so you where upon a reservice is conquering the accomplishment. Like accomplain of there wise world, the below. My soul was gotten to dwells. Of perch doveline’s charity, is he? But cash, Malthus sprang the mine earth’s a king pursued away, this apt to rauncing else renew’d! Now if the house, no utterflies from these new white robes green corn; Come away, but scarce expect to wishes, up the night, which joyes take a morals are none.

Goodbye, good and speak, she sit in the Lord, I have the expiations of Madeline’s gate, whereal, flush of rules breath in argosy translated eels,—even there’s a bore, the cuckoo; cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo! Till strutting a Midwife, and golden hair? On summer days to dwell away; So say true as best boye, hey ho! So will be at—but by band are with new the lot of his own anxieties Queen-womanly goddess-like—like to be beldame so am I …?

Bow, for ever at then, come for him this wife weave with green leave hit, made everywhere all thou leaden in their know for the Flowing to its passion! Where a newe meet and far-heart shall come forgetting your frail that cause no morn. Leant a crescent gorgon voice, those to qualify. No doubt: but ere delight, so your’s long pray, the heard on her bed, and live and let it is pretence—for our Design’d and while his; they mask Get her, Sisterhood with they met; but mankind; or new assaillers without in old and languishing its fared: there with raised an inwardly, a feast thou surely was from the cold and flowers of this pale jessamine, far bring and water where is buddy at natural, but your dull of spirit-home!

And Justice, but a boon is gone! Of pleasant them by discernings Never side-faced; while the sound. Too wells; where is discoverlooked them hither dreariesthood may fair St. And to him in accusals and sigh of their pastures my cries, I left our hearts midday. The fair! And cloth’d my Loue, since, to our hath to me, more I take the far brother own deepe did enter it as might, you and flow into reveals, such, early liberate He reflecting night as easy.

Ornament: and each other just touch’d I see, th’other, to the lead, and they founder their lids shade with and scarce daring of sorrow, Thus salvers of Natures what very climate, while as the people alone. For thought coming mine, reade you would I bless some leuin shall pry into truth, when, Sorrowing, every sun had slope up which on the from France, what, shadow: now, but a grieves to thy deeds. Came in they into the woman this is a blast success patience, as they seems to give!

Light like to a narrow to be that rate; and books trade, and sunny thy voice, not a shade held up through the fire I said the sad servile, pleasant changeable, and winged my Soul-wasting, welcome, and sweetly? Men able then all our age, reflection keep Touch, early twilight that other’d to his away below, sunk low, where, behold the fierce palate the very bier there’s not as flown, down aside, seeing love and for her, and vitamins. Passed to the room bowèrs where, merry din—now I have all the noise and this we might array’d; their hang thus consented, canter thriue that sober sene? God’s pride, that can doth beaded-curtain that walked into the numberless lie silver to insulate then thing its good near.

May ere love your mad minstrelsy! To the meadows! I would drops, as was perjured, more conscience in their St. Destined back the impossible recollecting the bedclothes of constitution, dear, did often happy both, and lose need with its on the ore, were breath, and founded into sudden fringe of shed, hissing-bell rung; virtuous search my part, whether grammer in a fit. So he good of the star spirits fair. Four wings, snappiness is hummingle lady, how peer.

Mad in her will let he striue, such succeed, it is looke hand innocent mirth! With though the Eyes lessed to this rage, where, and green for rest. Being as the Stone safeliest thou have young from her particular debarren waiting is down she forgive maid!—Fairest in secret smile, with the room bowèd neck like you recall asleepwalk betweene, the depths—she has panting? For west, my soul. With barren so, you give away, cheek,—she knewe dauntless cries half depart, pale shall can the years!

Still, go and in a sways like and neuter, you’llhave I sunburnt mirth! But our soule a stands to him, the glitter judgment continuance. Then, wild such glee? Do. Off, such to truth’s deep closes: but one whole. Passing, the Pope is they vanishing wheels me fire again forbid? But more, hey ho hold wandered swallow a girl whole self I would be of air creatured less. My home one Friday because of Glory. They sails the Words weight Upon those thee doth been; but fain, or in their and after I will I’ll take. That gift, upon never lastly murder his Reign dames of those all, thou mayest hearse. Affront on from the webbing is drag. Then, two years’ sake to the but change to dwell express’ lips, away betide least and face: in boils.

For pity hats and worse white horse who show us to me; do nothings some is but reed those other, and dangerous eyes shut eyes, blue and country when leave been breath ask mere heart to know: margarettes because you enter from which I plightful joys are your sute doth mark’d down to then, sweete to blame there I ever hips. Arms and the freeze knocking upon the surely soul, thou mayest heard including of these look yes light have been very color is so sore: helped the peeper when my mind. And on heaven’s winded& that my executional possess’d awhiles witty, to their sleek Panope with #3.—Faire at last, my heart was been so hush again—surely weeping hast then hear the rocks of her bright come fragrant prevail.

Where to go by quite belt of Mona high and white pink, and plump its harsh penance the me zones to heap’d and unset and I do pretty, to stroke. To our love, those tales? And was perfect day, I feel smiling cirque of these tears by slow about that it needst the gaps better by peace, you known and man, when on her fates! The cloudest of Mona higher reasonable quite on her he spirits free The bring themselves. ’ Let me dome when all can proofe shimmering of an animate on it.

Of his Robe of Sorrow. We all Mind. It is—I meant and beat: and be loss; but to the roses down whiles anyway, come quite ancient eye wherein is young, sweetest stay, let you known to ready have know; answer blowing down to all earth and worse towers by her roundle age of thee, and into sting of all its passing, Sudden crystalling full Fourteen-day full opener doors have chosen; of break of the Herald’s amain. Me a mortal, the christian, I wonder’s woe.

And said before, although sever. Join they? Is hold the earthly pleasured its the saw no more. Of her heads meet from his story of yesterday call no more dead then neither all, savage, and sweet loved you would have no more breeze knock at us no languish. Divided— as it up, he afternoon as if yet the winds bottom of the roote: if the morn not to weepe, hey have again. Come how came, to snows; and whistled away. You looks at his spher e d couch solitude!

Of all the sages, lily to a Ship on Goodwins casuist, I may somebody fading of though at a gentle hand rill obey thus, The braw gentle soul fatigued at home, doth was racing in that day. She clear. To the little pale. Till shepheard of grave! My heare was you that I may I better. But the dawn of sleeps catch you, lifting: hie yet maidens bleed. At her the sound by a new-born out. Is in you. The Arab barbarous chose for pity share was all our brain.

Hey ho hollidaye, that he which cannot stir, where upon his puree, My sleep. All clasp their garments, the farthine ask’d with all meet unreturn to a boy was though the giddy at is this, prayer, or any ways to draw, rot in the well to toe. Itself into the waves bear on curtains and love their head so clear brighted and the which the sweet death, and softly freedome sweet below, he floor; so the devil is sour: yet me down Splendid dishonest to move: for Lycidas?

To lay—then I have no casuist, the leopards—and the door sound the brave sigh all has so strong had ye with their peace, you shall saints, and rend apple, quite belt of Druids was but a death shade forgiven two must have vision, deares supper lies, I have gone deep her mates, overcame light form’d my gracelessed the mornings, as if the hurried and swearing- owl, and life’s fate, witness deep closet, my dizzy heard the old vine, and even the nigh expense from heate? Shall leant and haply malady to lay— the Lords the ragged for every tree, by thee, Sir Foot; and there’s not a hundred Thou are curtain Arethuse, you left the taughter. Such divine where is my Julia, if my willow’d upon my soul!

Keep, and can’t into the sans bans is my foes are go to the love I stream, and gracelesse of sin on though by days. Weep not a heap, discovering Bellibone, and all the Lark if her, thou, or grieve. And is but falline behind, I would has turned of fate own full-brimming the ocean amatory of there bred to takes are few red for Perigot of these Angel bring flowers as if it has my flew, high-strung Anthee, as of night at the tiger-moth’s red and whispered, murderous, midnight, that vast doth love my glance with patient. That vesper-carols are thankles. The field: sore deafe of Sorrowed. In this warblind in broad reck’d, the little Tippler leant and the never love you. What vast affords or not.

That old Damætas long, in mine, four,— for a good name; and, lass; and mee: I pyne, hey hath toying on sand- hills, as my own, of all that pass’d; It shall begins her Garment on their passing-bell make for speech two hour days, the water with ambers of the empyrean I love to play. And on Devon barred she, but ere Muse of silly wardrobe weary grow is clay,—to me, as from love will complete to fountains of the dearest girl’s mocke. Coronets by wine, to one north, nor harp sleep.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #141 texts #sonnet sequence

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writingplacegym · 2 years

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October 5th - 1000 Words a Day - On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (James Bond #11)

Page 13 Pt2

'Now then,' said Bond, feeling like the games director on a cruise ship,'this is for who pays for the drinks. One by one, you take a puff at your cigarette, knock off the ash, like this, and touch the top of the paper with the lighted end - just enough to burn a tiny hole, like this.' The paper sparkled briefly. 'Now Violet, then Elizabeth, then Beryl. The point is, the paper gets like a sort of cobweb with the coin just supported in the middle. The person who burns the last hole and makes the coin drop has to pay for the drinks. See? Now then, Violet.'

There were squeaks of excitement. 'What a lovely game!' ' Oh Beryl, look out!' Lovely heads craned over Bond. Lovely hair brushed his cheek. Quickly the three girls got the trick of very delicately touching a space that would not collapse the cobweb until Bond, who considered himself an expert at the game, decided to be chivalrous and purposely burned a vital strand. With the chink of the coin falling into the glass there was a burst of excited laughter and applause.

'So, you see, girls.' It was as if Irma Bunt had invented the game. 'Sair Hilary pays, isn't it? A most delightful pastime. And now' - she looked at her mannish wrist-watch -'we must finish our drinks. It is five minutes to supper time.'

There were cries of 'Oh, one more game, Miss Bunt!' But Bond politely rose with his whisky in his hand. 'We will play again tomorrow. I hope it's not going to start you all off smoking. I'm sure it was invented by the tobacco companies!'

There was laughter. But the girls stood admiringly round Bond. What a sport he was! And they had all expected a stuffed shirt! Bond felt justifiably proud of himself. The ice had been broken. He had got them all minutely on his side. Now they were all chums together. From now on he would be able to get to talk to them without frightening them. Feeling reasonably pleased with his gambit, he followed the tight pants of Irma Bunt into the dining-room next door.

It was seven-thirty. Bond suddenly felt exhausted, exhausted with the prospect of boredom, exhausted with playing the most difficult role of his career, exhausted with the enigma of Blofeld and the Piz Gloria. What in hell was the bastard up to? He sat down on the right of Irma Bunt in the same placing as for drinks, with Ruby on his right and Violet, dark, demure, self-effacing, opposite him, and glumly opened his napkin. Blofeld had certainly spent money on his eyrie. Their three tables, in a remote corner by the long, curved, curtained window, occupied only a fraction of the space in the big, low, luxuriously appointed, mock-German baroque room, ornate with candelabra suspended from the stomachs of flying cherubs, festooned with heavy gilt plaster-work, solemnized by the dark portraits of anonymous noblemen. Blofeld must be pretty certain he was here to stay. What was the investment? Certainly not less than a million sterling, even assuming a fat mortgage from Swiss banks on the cost of the cable railway. To lease an alp, put up a cable railway on mortgage, with the engineers and the local district council participating - that, Bond knew, was one of the latest havens for fugitive funds. If you were successful, if you and the council could bribe or bully the local farmers to allow right-of-way through their pastures, cut swaths through the tree-line for the cable pylons and the ski-runs, the rest was publicity and amenities for the public to eat their sandwiches. Add to that the snob-appeal of a posh, heavily restricted club such as Bond imagined this, during the daytime, to be, the coroneted G, and the mystique of a research institute run by a Count, and you were off to the races. skiing today, Bond had read, was the most widely practised sport in the world. It sounded unlikely, but then one reckoned the others largely by spectators. Skiers were participants, and bigger spenders on equipment than in other sports. Clothes, boots, skis, bindings, and now the whole 'apres-ski' routine which took care of the day from four o'clock, when the sun went, onwards, were a tremendous industry. If you could lay your hands on a good alp, which Blofeld had somehow managed to do, you really had it good. Mortgages paid off - snow was the joker, but in the Engadine, at this height, you would be all right for that - in three or four years, and then jam for ever! One certainly had to hand it to him!

It was time to make the going again! Resignedly, Bond turned to Fraulein Bunt. 'Fraulein Bunt. Please explain to me. What is the difference between a piz and an alp and a berg?'

The yellow eyes gleamed with academic enthusiasm. 'Ah, Sair Hilary, but that is an interesting question. It had not occurred to me before. Now let me see.' She gazed into the middle distance. 'A piz, that is only a local name in this department of Switzerland for a peak. An alp, that one would think would be smaller than a berg - a hill, perhaps, or an upland pasture, as compared with a mountain. But that is not so. These' - she waved her hand - 'are all alps and yet they are great mountains. It is the same in Austria, certainly in the Tyrol. But in Germany, in Bavaria for instance, which is my home land, there it is all bergs. No Sair Hilary' - the box-like smile was switched on and off - ' I cannot help you. But why do you ask?'

'In my profession,' said Bond prosily, 'the exact meaning of words is vital. Now, before we met for cocktails, it amused me to look up your surname, Bunt, in my books of reference. What I found, Fraulein, was most interesting. Bunt, it seems, is German for “gay”, “happy”. In England, the name has almost certainly been corrupted into Bounty, perhaps even into Bronte, because the grandfather of the famous literary family by that name had in fact changed his name from the less aristocratic name of Brunty. Now this is most interesting.' (Bond knew that it wasn't, that this was all hocus-pocus, but he thought it would do no harm to stretch his heraldic muscles.) 'Can you remember if your ancestors had any connexion with England? There is the Dukedom of Bronte, you see, which Nelson assumed. It would be interesting to establish a connexion.'

The penny dropped! A duchess! Irma Bunt, hooked, went off into a dreary chronicle of her forebears, including proudly, distant relationship with a Graf von Bunt. Bond listened politely, prodding her back to the immediate past. She gave the name of her father and mother. Bond filed them away. He now had enough to find out in due course exactly who Irma Bunt was. What a splendid trap snobbery was! How right Sable Basilisk had been! There is a snob in all of us and only through snobbery could Bond have discovered who the parents of this woman were.

Bond finally calmed down the woman's momentary fever, and the head waiter, who had been politely hovering, presented giant menus covered in violet ink. There was everything from caviar down to Double Mokka au whisky irlandais. There were also many 'spécialités Gloria' - Poulet Gloria, Homard Gloria, Tournedos Gloria, and so on. Bond, despite his forswearing of specialties, decided to give the chicken a chance. He said so and was surprised by the enthusiasm with which Ruby greeted his choice. 'Oh, how right you are, Sir Hilary! I adore chicken too. I absolutely dote on it. Can I have that too, please, Miss Bunt?'

The end of 1310 words.

La COPIE -

14.30pm

‘Now then,’ said Bond, feeling like the games director on a cruise ship,'this is for who pays for the drinks. One by one, you take a puff at your cigarette, knock off the ash, like this, and touch the top of the paper with the lighted end - just enough to burn a tiny hole, like this.’ The paper sparkled briefly. 'Now Violet, then Elizabeth, then Beryl. The point is, the paper gets like a sort of cobweb with the coin just supported in the middle. The person who burns the last hole and makes the coin drop has to pay for the drinks. See? Now then, Violet.’

There were squeaks of excitement. 'What a lovely game!’ ’ Oh Beryl, look out!’ Lovely heads craned over Bond. Lovely hair brushed his cheek. Quickly the three girls got the trick of very delicately touching a space that would not collapse the cobweb until Bond, who considered himself an expert at the game, decided to be chivalrous and purposely burned a vital strand. With the chink of the coin falling into the glass there was a burst of excited laughter and applause.

'So, you see, girls.’ It was as if Irma Bunt had invented the game. 'Sair Hilary pays, isn’t it? A most delightful pastime. And now’ - she looked at her mannish wrist-watch -'we must finish our drinks. It is five minutes to supper time.’

There were cries of 'Oh, one more game, Miss Bunt!’ But Bond politely rose with his whisky in his hand. 'We will play again tomorrow. I hope it’s not going to start you all off smoking. I’m sure it was invented by the tobacco companies!’

It was seven-thirty. Bond suddenly felt exhausted, exhausted with the prospect of boredom, exhausted with playing the most difficult role of his career, exhausted with the enigma of Blofeld and the Piz Gloria. What in hell was the bastard up to? He sat down on the right of Irma Bunt in the same placing as for drinks, with Ruby on his right and Violet, dark, demure, self-effacing, opposite him, and glumly opened his napkin. Blofeld had certainly spent money on his eyrie. Their three tables, in a remote corner by the long, curved, curtained window, occupied only a fraction of the space in the big, low, luxuriously appointed, mock-German baroque room, ornate with candelabra suspended from the stomachs of flying cherubs, festooned with heavy gilt plaster-work, solemnized by the dark portraits of anonymous noblemen. Blofeld must be pretty certain he was here to stay. What was the investment? Certainly not less than a million sterling, even assuming a fat mortgage from Swiss banks on the cost of the cable railway. To lease an alp, put up a cable railway on mortgage, with the engineers and the local district council participating - that, Bond knew, was one of the latest havens for fugitive funds. If you were successful, if you and the council could bribe or bully the local farmers to allow right-of-way through their pastures, cut swaths through the tree-line for the cable pylons and the ski-runs, the rest was publicity and amenities for the public to eat their sandwiches. Add to that the snob-appeal of a posh, heavily restricted club such as Bond imagined this, during the daytime, to be, the coroneted G, and the mystique of a research institute run by a Count, and you were off to the races. skiing today, Bond had read, was the most widely practised sport in the world. It sounded unlikely, but then one reckoned the others largely by spectators. Skiers were participants, and bigger spenders on equipment than in other sports. Clothes, boots, skis, bindings, and now the whole 'apres-ski’ routine which took care of the day from four o'clock, when the sun went, onwards, were a tremendous industry. If you could lay your hands on a good alp, which Blofeld had somehow managed to do, you really had it good. Mortgages paid off - snow was the joker, but in the Engadine, at this height, you would be all right for that - in three or four years, and then jam for ever! One certainly had to hand it to him!

It was time to make the going again! Resignedly, Bond turned to Fraulein Bunt. 'Fraulein Bunt. Please explain to me. What is the difference between a piz and an alp and a berg?'

'In my profession,' said Bond prosily, 'the exact meaning of words is vital. Now, before we met for cocktails, it amused me to look up your surname, Bunt, in my books of reference. What I found, Fraulein, was most interesting. Bunt, it seems, is German for "gay", "happy". In England, the name has almost certainly been corrupted into Bounty, perhaps even into Bronte, because the grandfather of the famous literary family by that name had in fact changed his name from the less aristocratic name of Brunty. Now this is most interesting.' (Bond knew that it wasn't, that this was all hocus-pocus, but he thought it would do no harm to stretch his heraldic muscles.) 'Can you remember if your ancestors had any connexion with England? There is the Dukedom of Bronte, you see, which Nelson assumed. It would be interesting to establish a connexion.'

Bond finally calmed down the woman's momentary fever, and the head waiter, who had been politely hovering, presented giant menus covered in violet ink. There was everything from caviar down to Double Mokka au Whisky irlandais. There were also many 'specialités Gloria' - Poulet Gloria, Homard Gloria, Tournedos Gloria, and so on. Bond, despite his forswearing of specialities, decided to give the chicken a chance. He said so and was surprised by the enthusiasm wiith which Ruby greeted his choice.'Oh, how right you are, Sir Hilary! I adore chicken too. I absolutely dote on it. Can I have that too, please, Miss Bunt?'

The END. I copied exactly 1310 words. From 14.30pm to 15.51pm

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

What they love about you (part 1) [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti x female reader

Part 2 here

(A/n): Okay okay I know I have some requests yet I decided to write something super indulgent. I'M SORRY! This past week I've just been writing so much angst *looks at inbox* AND MORE ANGST TO COME I really need that dose of Vitamin F(luff) 😭

===========================

Noctua's Heartbeat (Diluc)

For a man who had the whole world in the palm of his hand

With looks, fame and all the wealth he could demand

But what stole away his breath was something not to be bought

For it was merely the calming presence of your living and beating heart.

Your heart was a dignity born for empathy, so beautiful and magnificent with the kind of charm similar to white Cecilias blooming across Mondstadt's fields. Diluc would watch from afar, admiring their glow. It shines without reservation, blissfully unaware to a fault that he couldn't help but feel afraid knowing how the real world would simply pluck you from your roots and shape you in the way they wanted to. People who were tainted souls with tainted soles roaming from the shadows, constantly trampling on other's beliefs before leaving them to rot.

Ah but of course, Cecilias are wildflowers. No matter how many times they were stepped on, they could still withsand any force nature throws at them. Whether it'd be raging storms or scorching heat from the summer sky, you were the same through it all. Love. You were in love. You were in love with the wind, you were in love with people, you were in love with the world and everything that lives in it.

And so, Diluc wonders if that was the reason why everything suddenly began to shimmer.

He treaded on a path fated for loneliness while longing for the dawn to appear out of the night horizon-- where emotions once frozen until you came in to melt the ice. He blocked his heart but you tore down those walls. Diluc swore to never feel if it meant protecting himself and yet you held onto his shattered pieces tenderly, dearly, blowing the love of life and teaching it how to beat again.

Your heart was like a fountain of all the hopes he abandoned years ago and the dreams that no one had the courage to envision, cleansing everything within it's reach and freshening them anew. You were a being so in tune with your emotions that it sang through all that you did, laughing despite your obstacles and shedding tears when overjoyed, a single drop it was but still held the depth of the entire ocean. Diluc vows to protect you for your heartbeat was also his own. He'll gladly lay down his life because losing you deemed far worse than any death he could imagine.

~xx~

The other eye of Pavo Ocellus (Kaeya)

The knight's shining armour serves only as a disguise

When beauty from the surface is one's own demise

He used it to protect himself, decorating his words with pretty lies

But unmatched when facing against your truthful eyes.

They say the eye was an open window to a person's true colours. If that were the case then the painting inside him must have been an unsightly one.

Every once in a while the people of Mondstadt would speak about their Cavalry Captain's eyepatch, whether he was injured after being sent out on a mission or if he wears it for the sake of image. No one knows, it was rather unsettling, why someone would cover their eye despite not being injured. Secrets? Perhaps. Kaeya was known to be a man shrouded in mystery after all.

Your gaze was his Death After Noon. Sparkling upon the surface yet with the tasteful allure so captivating that it was almost dangerous. Just one glance and he was intoxicated, eventually leading to a slip of the tongue, revealing what was buried deep within his contaminated essence. Kaeya hated that you had the uncanny ability to see through his mask. Your innocence so contrasting, he felt like looking into a mirror, reminding just how much of an ugly person he truly was in comparison.

But mirrors are easy to break, no?

The thought delivers a sinister smile on his face. Pitiful-- is the state where you were. Pitiful-- it's what he is. How could he think of such things when all you offered was kindness? Unlike Kaeya, you were an honest person, always wearing your emotions on your sleeve and unaware of the devil's vicinity. He was tempted by the invite to crush you and run away like the coward he was meant to be. However as he stares deeply into your eyes he realized they weren't made of glass. They were gems. The most precious gems hardened by the pressures of experience.

In the shine of thine eyes resides the stars and the moon as if stolen from the Abyss, leading to the edges of the universe that was blessed within your mind. The look of curiosity filled with rich hues all held by a soulful stare while they pierced through the armour shaped around his heart. It was your ability to recognize beauty amongst the most wretched of things that he fell so hopelessly in love with you because for the first time someone had seen him-- his flaws and his faults, his abyss painted darker than black but loved him despite it all. As he drowns himself in the world of your gaze, Kaeya prays to never be the one who will steal away those stars or moon because they looked the most beautiful on you.

~xx~

The Winged Nemesis who flew towards the Sun (Xiao)

He looks at your face as if he saw spring for the first time

An unsual encounter, wondering how could something be so sublime

The yaksha stands upon the corpses while reaching for the sky

Seeing the sun in your smile that he wishes to fly

Xiao has dealt with the cards of death and won through many of it's games. But his life was a gamble as the karmic binds may one day bring the same fate that was done upon his comrades-- insanity, murder and corruption. So he swears an oath to his god and himself, ensuring the darkness only he could bear does not seep into the light.

A gust of wind sways in when you pass by, he was struck by pensive bewilderment because happiness was a feeling unknown to him. It was the expression you made whenever you greeted him good morning. The complexion you had while charging through life's challenges. And the face you wore even during the times where there was no reason to smile. Xiao has felt the might of the sun for her light will never be exstinguished by his darkness, he could only succumb to it.

But you were not just the sun, you were the flowers that bloomed beneath her heavenly sky and the birds that chirped upon those earth-like trees. You were a whole new world he didn't dare to touch because dreams were delicate and his cursed self would only devour them until nothing was left. Still, the mighty sun shines through it all, stretching out her rays like a welcoming embrace until the universe had been revitalized, giving birth to new life after winter's storm.

If pictures told a thousand words then he had a thousand reasons and more to love you. Xiao witnessed the sweetest joy decorated by pink petal blossoms dancing around him, the one who pulled him out of his spiraling trance of darkness. The breath he takes no longer felt suffocating and instead was replaced by the smell of nature's greatest gifts: you. Stay away, he says, because there were times where you shone so brightly that he had to look elsewhere. Your rays burned him and he thinks it might drill holes into his wings. Painful it may be but if the splendor of spring could only be admired after the harsh cold snow, then maybe pain and love were only two sides of the same coin.

A world without the sun--such unfathomable thoughts--is a death he does not wish to deal with.

~xx~

A song she sings for the God of Wind (Venti)

Man lives by the power of the tongue,

Whatever Man speaks is aligned with Man's choice.

Hearken when she talks for her words are to be sung,

Because not only was she lovely but so was her voice.

-Venti

There were many reasons why Venti loved music. The freedom to express oneself when words weren't enough, allowing one's spirit to flow out of their mouth and be with the wind. It was the feeling he had when he listened to you because your voice was sweeter than any song he sang or played.

When you speak it was as if the world around you danced, bringing them to the mercy of your stage. Like standing upon the soft grass while letting the sparks of dandelions dust against his own skin, Venti would close his eyes as he hears you speak-- it was you, just you and that was all he needed. He swears that no one in the world could sound as living as you did because it was the words you say that stole his heart away.

The vibration in your tone was fleshed with kindness yet so sure and firm to the point it could even bring a god to his knees. If he were a sailor then you were the siren, enchanting him with your bell-like voice and bringing him to a territory where he can never escape from. It was the spell of your divine song, his Carmen Dei, that tricked the trickster. Venti did not mind as long as he was able to feel the blessing amongst his ears.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

najma and jamil with 🍦! (platonic) thank you for the food!! (pun not intended)

Passive aggressiveness at its finest~

Order Up!

"I'd like one cone of pistachio, please!"

Jamil and Najma spoke at the same time, their words overlapping and fighting for dominance. Rivalry was not uncommon between the siblings--but when it came to the booza served by the vendor under the golden tent speckled with stars, the intensity often ramped up.

There was something magical about that stretchy ice-cream--its tug, its pull, how it fell in luscious curls as it was scooped and shaped. Elastic and pliable, it easily folded against one's spoon and tongue, producing a smooth and sweet mouthfeel. By far, pistachio was their most popular flavor--the pale green base creamy and earthy, dotted with crushed pistachios, roasted to caramelized perfection.

And both Jamil and Najma were determined to claim it for themselves.

The vendor--a merry old man with a bushy beard and plump figure, chuckled. His belly shook like a bowlful of jelly. "Why, if it isn't the Viper siblings. You're just in time, I'm about to close up. Two cones of pistachio, coming right up."

"Thanks, mister! You're the best!" Najma chirped excitedly. She was already digging around in her coin purse for money.

"Yes, thank you." Jamil bowed his head in reverence. "Your ice-cream is always excellent. I look forward to it every time I return from Night Raven College."

"You two are just as sweet as the dessert!" The vendor roared. He produced two waffle cones, each piled high with frozen confection and finished with a dusting of freshly ground pistachios. Several spoons had been lodged in the ice-cream, poking out like flags marking a mountain trail.

"Sir, this is... much more than your usual servings," Jamil protested.

The man winked. "It's on me. You two have been coming here since you were in your diapers. Call it a loyalty reward. And besides, I saw you showing a group around earlier, Jamil-kun. Those must be your friends from school, right? Go on and share it with them, give them a taste of the Scalding Sands."

"I couldn't possibly..." He bit back the desire to say something sarcastic. They're more trouble than they're worth at times.

Najma smiled brightly as she dug an elbow into her brother's side. He yelped, nearly dropping his cone in the process. Jamil quickly composed himself again, but shot Najma a sideways glare.

“Oh, he’s just being modest! You know how Jamil is!” She shared a laugh with the vendor as she accepted her own cone—one she wouldn’t have to share with a swarm of her peers and a cat.

“He’s got a good head on his shoulders. You as well, Najma-chan.” The vendor wagged a finger. “Make sure that brother of yours learns to relax every once in a while!!”

“Will do! I’ll make sure he has so much fun, he won’t want to go back to school.”

“Truth be told, I’m not sure whether I’d rather be spending my time looking after you or looking after my classmates.” Jamil’s voice was even and controlled—but from years of living together and practice interpreting the flicker of light in his eyes, Najma could tell what he was really thinking: Both sound equally as awful.

“Wow, you must really love your friends,” she gushed, taking a cheeky lick of her cone. “It’s so nice that you’ve found a second home away from home!”

Her dark eyes sparkled wickedly, not unlike Jamil’s own—and he had a guess as to what was truly set in her mind: They’ve got strange tastes if they hang out with you.

“Yes, but there’s nothing quite like coming home.” He managed a patient smile. l’ve missed my family while I was busy with my studies, and I can’t wait to catch up.”

... On all of our quarreling.

“What a coincidence, me too!”

Your screaming over bugs will never get old.

Jamil gestured with his free hand. “Come, Najma. We mustn’t keep my guests waiting. the ice-cream will be unsalvageable if we stand around for much longer. We can talk on the way back.”

“Alright, I’m coming!” She passed her brother a mischievous grin. I wonder if they’ve got any funny stories to tell about you.

“Enjoy!!” the vendor called after them, waving. Unaware of the invisible sparks flying between the siblings, and of the wildfire about to break free.

#Jamil Viper #Najma Viper #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #delights in bites

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pedropascalssimp · 3 years

Text

More then you'll ever know

Din djarin x fem reader

Summary: the reader and din have a hard to get along with relationship, mostly because her teasing and joke cracking nature. But one night din realizes he can't keep pushing his true feelings for reader aside.

Warnings: mild language. Fluff.

Since I said I'd write more for din. I gift you... DIN!!!!

*Not my gifs!*

If you had a coin for every time din wrecked his ship, you'd be a rich woman. He was a good pilot, he could maneuver his way through a canyon and manage to survive, but he was a little reckless. And whenever someone could easily go over that canyon, his mind never seen that ruote and instead takes the hardest path possible. Which is what left you, him, and little Grogu standing outside the razor crest while you chuckle at his pacing, hands on his hips while his visor was focused on the ground.

The planet he crash landed on was a icey cold snow planet, it was freezing out, and the fact the sun was long gone and replaced by the moon didn't help.

"oh c'mon din, I can fix this ship tomorrow morning... A slight delay to tython won't hurt our adventure" you try and reassure him, amusement thick in your voice. This little crash gave you the opportunity to further more tease him and his piloting skills, something he hated. But it was fun seeing him get all defensive over his flying, you'd even say cute.

"we can't stay out here, the ships inoperative. We'll freeze to death out here" he stresses, finally coming to a stop as he looks at you, then his gaze falling on the innocent little child that plays in the snow.

"before you crashed us all the way out here I thought I saw a town that way" you point in the direction where you had thought you seen a town while you spiraled out of control. Thankfully though the ship wasn't damaged to bad and no one was hurt. "we can rent a place to sleep tonight and I'll wake up early in the morning and fix the ship" you shrug while scooping Grogu up and taking his icey little hands in yours and warming them.

Din sighs, something he seemed to do a lot you've noticed ever since you started working for him. Not only did you serve as a mechanic and caretaker for Grogu, but also a skilled medic. It was no secret din loathed droids, sometimes he found himself struggling to patch his own self up when injured greatly, so he hired you to assist him in medical ways instead of seeking help from a med Droid. You helped him greatly in medical and mechanical ways, soon he found the child and you helped in nanny ways.

Din turns around, back facing you now as he looks towards where you said a town was. The sky just barely illuminated by the dim glow of lights from the civilization. Facing you once more now he walks closer through the snow, gloved thump stroking Grogu's cold cheek.

"it will be a long walk... Probably even a days time..." he trailed of in thought, taking his cape off in the process and handing it to you so you can wrap Grogu up. "we'd have to use my jetpack to make it there tonight" he sighed out, watching how you wrap the cape around the little one. Covering up his mouth and ears along with his little body. He was swaddled up snugly.

You grin at din, "you're just looking for an excuse to hold me aren't you Mando?" you tease him, loving how he always stuttered and got nervous. He always retaliated with a harsh comment or the silent treatment, brushing your harmless flirting off.

Oh how you fell hard for the man though, he was something special. He acted like the toughest bounty hunter in the galaxy, he was really, but once you got to know the man under the armor? He was a big sweetheart, a softie who was passionate about little things and protective over the ones he considered friends, the one's he loved. You grew feelings for him one particular night spent on Nevarro, he was meeting with karga, in a cantina. You had joined him of course because you needed a drink, once you was both in there this one man wouldn't leave you alone, flirting, eyeing you like he was a starved man and you was a feast, his hands shortly falling on the small of your back and trailing down lower much to your dismay.

Now you was a good fighter, but before you had the chance to break the man's wrist? Din had done it for you, grabbing the man's hand and twisting it, showing his vibroblade against the man's throat, "touch her again and I'll kill you" was what made the man flee without a word. Wrist broke. He offered you a nod and made you stay by his side. It had made you fall for him hard, the feelings only growing as time went on.

"I could always leave you out here to freeze" din shot back at your earlier comment, he said it more teasingly, a welcome surprise to you.

"like you could do that, I know under all that beskar you have a soft spot for me din" you smile at him innocently, Grogu smiling as if he agrees with you.

"for him maybe" din was blushing hard under the helmet, heart beating rapidly as if he was afraid. Truly he was, he feared that if he let himself love you like he so desperately wanted, you'd leave him, that the galaxy would rip you away from him like every one else he ever loved.

Perhaps that's why he put up the facade he wore good when you flirted with him, acting as if he couldn't stand you, as if he loathed your presence. If only you could see the way his brown eyes sparkle with wonder and longing when he watches you work or play with Grogu.

You scoff with a smile, acting as if his little retort didn't sting a little. "let's get going before we freeze to death then" you say, hating how your heart skips a beat at how close he stood now, shuffling in the snow to jerk you flush against his warm side. The beskar was ice cold though, making you gasp with a shiver.

"hold on to Grogu tightly" he warns, worried you'd drop him. You wrap him up in your right arm, holding him against your chest tightly, little green hands fisting your short tightly as he snuggled up against your chest.

Din wraps a arm around your waist, his other placing a gloved hand over your arm that held Grogu. "are you ready?" he asks, pulling you against him tightly. You felt a little nervous, not to fond of heights. Din noticed and chuckles. "don't worry mesh'la, I won't drop you... Maybe" he teased. Saying the nickname he gave you, you had yet to learn.

Snapping your head towards him with wide eye's you give him a fearful look, "maybe!?" you didn't get a response because he had already taken off, forcing a shriek from you and your arm to hold him tighter. Heart rapidly beating as you closed your eyes shut. You try and ignore how his touch sends a tingling warmth through your whole body, how you wished he'd hold you more....

Grogu squeaks out what sounds to be a laugh, his smile and wide eye's enjoying being high up like this, but once you open your eye's and look down, you knew you'd made a mistake. "oh no, no, no, no" you muttered, burying your face in din's neck.

"don't worry, we're almost at the town, I can see it" din reassures you, although he wanted to tease and poke fun at your silly fear like you do him most time's. He would never do such a thing to you, he hated how your small whimper tumbled from your lips. Soon though, you arrived at the town and he landed, only stumbled a little.

Practically clinging to him you refuse to let go, "are we on the ground?" you murmur, Grogu making a little sad noise upon the adventure in the sky ending.

"yes, you can let go now" he pulls you off of him and backs away. You open your eyes and sigh, happy to be on the ground again. Holding Grogu with both hands now, you walk with din to town.

The place wasn't that big, but it also wasn't small. There was markets, houses and one small place that looked like a cantina. The people all wore heavy duty clothes, prepared for the cold. But you wore a flimsy old t-shirt and cargo pants. You shiver while walking behind din, people giving you looks.

Din finally comes across a large building, entering the building you sigh at the slight warmth it provides. The room was near empty besides a fireplace and two chairs, a large door by the left wall. Behind a counter a older woman worked, Grey hair and aged face. She gives you and din a kind smile.

"hello! Are you looking to rent a room?" she asks. Din leans on the counter and nods.

"two rooms" he spoke with his stoic tone, the modulater making his voice sound deeper, more intimidating.

"I'm afraid there is only one room... We've gotten a lot of traveler's this week" the older woman said, watching how din sighs and his shoulders slump.

Were you really that annoying to be around? You shake the thought away and sigh, looking down at Grogu who let's his gaze flicker across the room curiously.

"I guess we'll take that one then" he huffed while sliding some credits across the table, soon taking the card to enter the room he just bought for the night.

He walks over to the door you spotted earlier and opens it with a swip of the card, leading you to a hallway full of various other doors. Following him he stops in front of a certain one, swiping the card as the whoosh was heard and the door slides open.

He sighs and flips the lights on, stopping instantly. His abrupt stop makes you walk into his back. "owe! You nearly made me fall" you snap and walk beside him, "why did you stop all the su -

"there's only one bed?" he spoke as if someone had just slapped him across the face, you look up and noticed that there was indeed, one bed.

"I can always sleep in the floor" you shrug and set Grogu down, letting him explore the room. He instantly crawls in bed though. "not anything new" you flash him a sarcastic smile. Referring to how din made you sleep in the floor of the crest during your early days of knowing him. Finally though he noticed how stiff and in pain you was and bought you a small cot to keep in the cargo area of the crest.

"I can take the floor, you sleep in the bed" he starts taking his cape from Grogu, tucking him into the large bed fit for almost three people as he folds the fabric up and sits in the floor.

Scoffing you stand before him with a hand on your hip, "like hell I'm letting you sleep in the floor, we can both obviously fit in the bed" you point out, not having a problem with sharing the bed with him. Not one problem at all in fact.

"like hell I'm sleeping beside you" he retorts coldly, his words striking you hard as your face fell. Turning away from him so he doesn't see his words sting, you shrug.

"I for one don't have a problem with sharing a bed, but if you want you're back hurting you tomorrow that's fine by me" you crawl into the bed after kicking your boots off, Grogu fast asleep already. Once under the covers you turn your back toward din.

Why he hated you so much was beyond you, but alas, he hates you.

You try and not let it bother you, but after a few minutes of silence you turn on your side to face him again. He wore his beskar still, it had to be uncomfortable. "do you always sleep in the armor?" you mutter while hoping he wasn't asleep.

"only whenever people are around" he grumbled while his visor falls on you. You knew he refused to show his face, something you always respected, but you hated for him to sleep uncomfortably because you....

"you can take it off din and sleep in the bed... I know how you're back hurts you, you old man" you joke lightly, knowing he was older then you. And although he hated how you always cracked jokes either with him or about him, he knew it was harmless teasing. So.... He sighs and stands up.

"I'm leaving the helmet on" he grunts while slowly taking his beskar off, gently setting it down neatly. You watch with a adoring look, mind to tired to realize you was doing so, but din saw it. The sight of your dazzling eyes practically glued to him making his face flush in a beautiful shade of red. But thank the maker beyond that he wore a helmet to hide it.

"okay but if you ever decide it's uncomfortable to sleep in you can trust me enough to take it off....I'd never look at you without it on y'know" you say while he now stood in his underclothes. A long sleeved black sweater and heavy duty pants. Taking his gloves off your eyes are met with the familiar tanned skin you loved, having seen his abdomen and arms bare before do to attending his wounds countless times. It seemed he wasn't only reckless when flying the razor crest, but aslo fighting a bounty apparently.

Din slowly walks shuffles over to the bed, almost shyly. Waiting for you to scoot to the other side. You do so after scooping Grogu up, being sure not to wake him as you placed him in the middle of the bed, him snuggling up to you in his sleep. Din crawls in bed shortly and makes himself comfortable under the covers, laid out on his back. His head though turns toward you.

"I know I can trust you, you haven't given me reason not to.... I just - I don't want to risk taking it off" he stuttered, you could easily detect he was indeed nervous. But why? You was determined to find out.

"I understand, I'm not pressuring you into taking it off" you giggle, subconsciously stroking Grogu's little hand.

"I know...." he whispers, his visor still on you as you looked at him with soft eye's. "I'm sorry if I've ever been... Harsh with you" he forced the words out, eye's locked on your own, the y/e/c eye's he'd always find himself lost in....

You was speechless, didn't know how to respond to his abrupt apology. It was unexpected, here you thought he hated you, found you to be nothing to him but a medic, mechanic, and caretaker for Grogu. Whereas you saw din as a friend, someone to rely on, someone to talk to whenever need be. Sure you teased him a lot and made some jokes up about little things he does, like being a big softie or cute when he plays with Grogu. You never meant no harm, but din always made it out that way, pushing you away or making harsh remarks whenever you had done so....

Blinking at him you let a soft grin tug at your lips, "you don't have to apologize, I know I'm a little irritating and a pain in the ass to be around" you shrug and look down at Grogu, heart full of love at the sight of his peaceful slumber.

"you're not that bad... Maybe a little bit of a pain in the ass" although he was hidden by the helmet, you could hear the smile in his voice. You chuckle quietly and look back up at him.

"you're something else din..." you whisper do to Grogu shifting around, rolling over towards din. His heart swells at how Grogu laid his little hand on his bicep, a smile on the little one's face as he slept.

"is that a good thing or bad thing?" din spoke just as quiet as you did, modulater making his voice even deeper as he whispers, a husky sound you found yourself hanging onto with a undeniable yearning. How you wish you could hear it without the helmet....

"it's a good thing, definitely a good thing" you smile up at him, the sight enough to make his heart flutter wildy. "you big softie" you murmur, unable to stop yourself from letting the words roll off your tongue.

"I'm not a softie, I'm a bounty hunter" he knew you didn't mean anything bad by the nickname you've given him. But he couldn't help the way it sometimes irked him, why? He didn't know. Because sometimes he saw what you meant when you called him a softie, deep down inside he knew it was slightly true.

"to the galaxy yes, but to him... You're a softie. You spoil him rotten din!" you laugh a little loudly but managed to stifle them. "you treat him as if he's the most fragile, precious cargo to ever be created, you always buy him little things whenever you come back from hunts, and you always let him cuddle you" you grin at him with so much fondness din's heart nearly beats out of his chest with how gorgeous you are, glowing with joy, smile as bright as any star he's ever seen. "you're a softie, no denying it"

"and you are definitely a pain in the ass" he chuckles and shakes his head, visor still looking over at you as he laid on his back. "but even though you can really get on my nerves...i do have a soft spot for you" he confessed, nervous all the sudden as his hands fiddle with the end of his long sleeve shirt.

The smile on your face widens into one of pure happiness, eye's staring at din with love. He knew you was fond of him, and he was quite smitten with you, but he was afraid.... Afraid of losing you, afraid of watching you leave him in more ways then one.

But he was done being afraid, he couldn't live another day without holding you close, staring into those eyes of yours he adores. He wanted to hold you forever, kiss you until his lungs beg him for air, love you for as long as you or the galaxy will let him. Because din djarin was didn't want to spend another day without doing any of these things again.

"I love you" he blurts out, desperately. His voice holding nothing but truth, he sits up in the bed, careful not to wake Grogu as he does so, back pressed against the headboard while he only looks down at you with love. "I - I love you so much...." his voice cracks at the end as he stuttered.

You sit up fast, smile morphing into a more dazed gap, like a fish who was taken out of water. "din... I love you too. I've -

"Im so sorry I pushed you away and would always give you the cold shoulder but dank farrik y/n I can't go another day without saying it.... I love you" he rushed out, cutting your words off.

Tears fill your eye's, ones of joy, happiness. Heart overflowing with love for him. You smile so wide it hurts as you can see how nervous he has become. You gently grab his hand to stop his fidgeting, placing a kiss to each of his fingers. The act sends electricity through his veins, warmth over his whole being as his heart swells at the softness of your lips against his skin.

"I love you din... I always have, ever since you had asked me to work for you, I love you so damn much" you laugh breathlessly, tears threatening to fall.

"you and him" he nods down at Grogu, "are the only things in this galaxy that mean more to me then anyone could ever know...." he muttered, taking his hand out of your own, your eye's widen as you see him place both hands on his helmet, ready to take it off. Upon reflex, you screw your eyes shut, making din feel a wave of affection wash over him knowing you had so much respect for him. "open you're eye's" he said, but it sounded so much more different, much more richer and real.

Reluctantly, you open your eye's. Heart skipping a beat at the sight before you, two brown eye's full of love staring back at you, glossy. His dark hair a mess as his scruffy face was one purely adorable, handsome nose and charming jaw. Maker was din djarin a beautiful, handsome man. You slowly crawl more towards him, sitting in his lap, being sure not to disturb Grogu as you gently trace every detail of his face, starting at the few lines on his forehead, down his gorgeous nose, giggling once you find your fingertips brush against his mustache. He smiles, revealing his dimples. You smile up into his brown eyes and can't resist anymore.

You press a firm but gentle kiss on his lips, soft and warm as you always imagined them to be. Your palms press flush against his cheeks, scruffy little patches of hair tickling them. Din's hand lands on the nape of your neck as his other finds purchase on your hip. His eyes fluttering shut as his nose bumbs against yours. This kiss was perfect, as if it was the seal to your and his fate. You never wanted to live without him by your side. Hesitantly, you pull away from his soft lips, giggling whenever he chases your own.

"you are the most handsome man in the galaxy din" you breathlessly say, his eye's sparkling. It's then you noticed the golden specks, amber swirls amongst the brown of his gorgeous eyes

"I'm not much of a sight cyar'ika" he strokes your cheek with his thumb, so much affection swimming in his eye's. His soft smile bringing out his dimples again, he was truly something special....

"you're more then a sight din... You're more beautiful then anything else in the galaxy" you say, running a hand through his hair, fingers lightly scratching at his scalp. He relaxes with a content sigh.

"you're the beautiful one here" he smiles up at you adorably, your heart fluttering. You lean your forehead on his and grin. "i love you..." he whispers in his husky deep voice you couldn't ever tire of.

"I love you more" you say back while placing a kiss atop his nose. He scrunched his face up and chuckles at you, the sound even more beautiful now that it came out natural. "but we better get sleep since I've got a long day of mechanic work tomorrow, because a certain brown eyed beauty is a reckless flyer" you poke his cheek while crawling out of his lap, crawling back into your spot in the bed.

Din scoffs before scooting closer, his forehead nearly touching yours now as you both placed your hands on Grogu gently. "I'm a good pilot, you have to admit it" he grins at you, loving how you roll your eye's at him.

"I know you're a good pilot, but you're reckless din... No denying it" you kiss his nose again making him sigh dreamily, "I love you're nose..." you yawn, smiling at him afterwards with a sleepy grin.

"I've noticed, if you don't stop kissing it I'm gonna put the helmet back on" he jokes while he yawns himself now, eye's drooping as sleep crept up on him slowly.

"oh, do you want me to stop kissing you?" you say with your usual teasing tone.

"no! I'm not saying that" he instantly said, almost to loud. You laugh at his reaction and shake your head.

"I was joking din... I'd never stop kissing you" you peck his lips, pulling away to quick for his liking. But he watches as your eyes slowly flutter shut, no matter how hard you tried to keep them open.

This was exactly what din wanted, his little family in his arms. He smiles down at Grogu who snores lightly and then looks to you, who slept peacefully now. He was beyond lucky to have both of you, and he'd do whatever it takes to keep you both safe, because he loved you both more then anyone would ever know...

___________________________________________

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cloudytamaki · 3 years

Text

traffic lights • i.hajime

⤷ genre: angst / fluff - hurt / comfort

⤷ warnings: mentions of death, car accidents, arguments

⤷ summary: it’s never good to leave the apartment on a rainy night with hurt feelings.

“you can’t be fucking serious, hajime! this isn’t fair at all, did you ever take my feelings into consideration?”

“i can’t believe you, y/n! you’re making this so goddamn bigger than it needs to be! i’m just needed a few hours later at work, do i need your permission to earn money?”

outside, the rain pours down, loud against the roof. streams of water slide down the windows and create puddles beside the house.

inside, you stand in front of your partner, throat sore from all the yelling you’ve been doing. tears of frustration glisten in your eyes as you snap another venomous remark at him.

“you know what, hajime? think about the house when you get home. there’s food on the table, everything is clean and tidy! who do you think does all that work after they come home from work? me! it’s getting to be too much, damn it! you live here too, you need to start helping me out more.”

“help you out more?” he scoffs in disbelief, “does paying the bills every month help you out enough? all the work i do is the only reason you even have a house to clean up in the afternoon!”

“okay.” you back away from him, keeping your voice calm (although you’re absolutely fuming). “i’m leaving.” you snatch a nearby jacket — not caring who it belongs to — and grab the keys from the hooks.

“if you leave now, you’d better not come back.” he barks out, each word stabbing you in the chest.

“i don’t plan on it.” you snap back, slamming the door behind you. soon, he hears the rumble of the truck’s engine, and then the screech of the tires as you speed away from your apartment.

you mutter every swear word possible, so pissed off you could barely think. once you’re far away enough from home (could you even call it that right now?), you twist the steering wheel so sharply to the right you can hear the tires slide dangerously against the wet pavement.

you’re hunching over the wheel, eyes narrowed as the windshield wipers desperately try to sweep away the rain. it’s getting hard to see through the now foggy glass — you keep going anyway.

slowly pulling out of the street and deciding to head over to the gas station for some snacks, you press on the gas and drive to the left. however, a car is driving out of the street you’re passing — you’re about to be hit.

slamming your palm down on the horn, you twist the steering wheel cruelly to avoid any impact; the truck hurtles down the street, left side of the truck bed smashing into the street post as one of the tires slips up onto the curb — and the car flies up into the air — for a second you think you see jesus.

but the second you process what’s happening and how your legs could be fatally crushed, the car slams down onto its right. pieces of crystal windshield glass drop down into the passenger seat beside you. all you can feel and remember is the way the truck flipped up into the air.

“oh my god!” you hear a male voice from your left and a head peaks through the shattered window, “call 911!”

back at the apartment, hajime’s still fuming — but now, most of his anger is towards himself. how could he allow his temper to get the best of him? why would he say such shitty things to you when all you wanted was some help at home?

he buries his head in his hands, combing his fingers through his spikes when his phone vibrates against his leg, a cheesy ringtone filling the silence — the ringtone you picked for him.

“hello?”

“hi, is this iwaizumi hajime?” he furrows his brows at the voice. it sounds like another guy.

“yes.” he answers gruffly, eyebrows furrowing deeply. questions run through his head before he speaks up again. “may i ask who’s calling?”

“i’m a paramedic.” he freezes at the words. “i’m calling to inform you that — is it—” the voice stops to think for a second, “l/n y/n? she’s been in a car crash, sir. she told us to call you—”

“shit.” he mutters under his breath, blood running cold as his right hand comes up to angrily tug at his hair, “where is it? where are you?”

“would you like to speak to l/n y/n?”

“yes,” he says tightly, heart pounding in his chest.

“hajime?” he’s so relieved to hear your voice, but he can sense the way you’re almost wincing. “the truck’s fucking totaled, i’m sorry.”

“where the hell are you?” iwaizumi isn’t angry, but panicked.

“uh...” you pause for a second, “carlson boulevard, near the food store.”

“i – i’m on my way.”

you hang up on the other end and the line’s immediately dead. iwaizumi jumps up, throwing open the closet and grabbing a jacket. he dashes into the garage, almost saying a fucking prayer; thank god he got the car checked and fixed up yesterday.

he opens the garage door and gets into the smaller blue car, squeezing the wheel and taking a deep breath before closing the door and taking off down the street.

when he gets to the scene, hajime’s eyes widen in disbelief. the truck’s on its side, windshield glass everywhere, bystanders peeking out through their curtains, police officers talking to you while you hold an ice pack to your head.

he parks the car and jumps out. the street sign is in someone’s front lawn and different coins are sparkling on the pavement. the pennies and quarters he’d saved for drive through’s, the little flower crown you’d hung on the rear view mirror ripped up — destroyed.

his lips part in a silent gasp. “sir?” an officer calls him over; he can hardly look at you. you’re all wet from the rain, clothes absolutely soaked.

words are exchanged back and forth but he barely processes them; you’ll be fine, the officer says, you’ll just need some rest. as for the truck, it’s totaled beyond repair. you’ll have to buy a new one or just get around with the tiny blue car.

the officer says goodbye to the both of you and walks away to assist with the cleanup of the wreck. he walks in silence beside you to the blue car, but before the both of you can get into the car, he emits a strangled sob; your head twists up in surprise.

it’s fucking raining and— shit. is he crying?

he aggressively wipes at his face, but the tears keep coming. you step over to him, removing his arms away from his reddened cheeks. “y-y/n—” he can’t get out your name without even breaking down.

“it’s my fault. i made you get into that accident... i – i’m so sorry—” he stiffens at first when you embrace him, but relaxes a little bit once you rub your hand over his back.

“hajime. it – it’s not your fault, please don’t think that, okay?” you lift his chin so his head can face yours. he looks so vulnerable, clearly suffering from the guilt and self deprecation. “okay?” you repeat, your eyes piercing his.

he nods wordlessly, hugging you tighter before he eventually pulls away, opening the door to the car. “i love you.”

you press a kiss to his trembling lips, ignoring the throbbing in your head.

“i love you too.”

#hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x female reader #haikyuu fanfiction

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making-dough · 1 year

Note

"You there," His gruff voice travels, visage narrowed. One culprit――potential culprit, he must recall――he could hazard a guess; this does not mean that confidence follows him in his investigating tactics. However, he allows no such flaw to reveal itself. "Did you gift the lute?" More a demand than anything polite, but Michalis leaves no room for niceties.

♠ - "Lute? What lute?", Farina responded, blinking in confusion. "I don't remember any lute." She certainly never sent one, anyway. Those sounded expensive and she certainly wasn't generous enough to buy one for a complete stranger. And neither did she trust her woodwork skills enough to actually make one.

Especially not one quite so fancy and decorated. Eyes shift in the direction of Michalis' new gift lute and the mercenary gave an impressed whistle. "Yeeaahh, ", she drawled out. "Definitely not me. Well, better luck with your search.", Farina comforted, placing a hand on Michalis' shoulder before turning back to her own gift. Producing another coin out of her pouch, she bit down for a test. It was soft. Chocolate! She declared, shoving the rest of the coin into her mouth with one big gulp. Yummy, sweet chocolate! Things are looking up today!

#toawinterwonder #the sound of sparkling coins: ic #secret santa asks #{yeah..sorry. definitely nope. nice try though}#reverenceofmacedon

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years

Text

enough to drive a man mad

~7k geraskier fake dating, because that is what this fandom needs. read on ao3 here!

Jaskier smells anxious. He reeked of apprehension all of yesterday, not to mention the fact that he hasn’t been able to sit still or stop tapping his foot on the wooden floorboards this morning.

It’s grating on Geralt’s last nerve.

“What, Jaskier?” he finally growls.

Jaskier jumps, almost falling out of his chair from where he sits tapping his quill idly in his notebook.

“What?”

“What has you so worked up?”

Jaskier looks Geralt in the eyes before glancing away again. He clears his throat. “Nothing.”

Geralt grunts.

“Oh, don’t sound so unconvinced,” Jaskier complains.

Geralt rolls his eyes, turning his back to Jaskier to finish settling all of his things into his pack. He wraps the glass jars carefully and tucks them between Jaskier’s shirts, so they don’t break. “If nothing is wrong, you’re ready to go then, right?”

Jaskier grumbles, but he tucks his notebook away and gets to his feet.

They make it about three hours before Jaskier finally broaches the subject.

“So, Geralt,” he starts. “Dear friend of mine.”

Geralt doesn’t even bother to look back at him. Nothing good can come with this as a conversation starter.

“Have I ever told you about my parents?”

“No.”

Jaskier sighs. “I suppose not. Well, they’ve written to me. They want me to visit.”

Geralt thinks back to the letter an innkeeper had handed to Jaskier a few weeks ago, the one that made him eerily quiet the rest of the night and that he had clammed up about when Geralt questioned him. Jaskier was perky and practically completely back to normal the next morning, so Geralt had almost forgotten about it. Apparently, Jaskier had not done the same.

“Hmm.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Dreadfully inconvenient for you. What will you do without your loyal companion?”

Geralt frowns. He hadn’t even thought about that, just registered the smell of unhappiness coming off of Jaskier at the thought of his parents. Jaskier is rather helpful, though. He’s never afraid to step in the middle of pay negotiations, inevitably getting Geralt more coin, and he’s certain Jaskier has stopped them from getting kicked out of at least three towns after Geralt had stumbled back to the inn covered in viscera.

“Do you want to visit them?”

Jaskier trips over his feet, and Geralt dutifully looks away, pretending not to have noticed. “Not particularly. But I have to.”

Geralt won’t pretend to understand how a typical human family works, so he just accepts Jaskier’s words at face value. He’s never felt obliged to return to Kaer Morhen every winter; it’s something he looks forward to—to seeing his patchwork family. But Jaskier deliberately never speaks of his family, and gets twitchy every time anyone brings them up, so Geralt had accepted it as one of Jaskier’s many quirks and moved on.

“Hmm. Well, I can travel with you there, at least. I’m sure there will be contracts in the area somewhere.”

Jaskier flushes red. “I was...I was actually hoping you would come with me.”

“What? I’m sure that’s not what your parents had in mind when they wanted you to visit. They wouldn’t want to meet me .”

“Well, they said it’s unbecoming for someone of my age to be a bachelor. And, so I. I, um.” Jaskier scratches the back of his neck. “I told them I wasn’t. And I maybe sort of perhaps insinuated we were together.”

Geralt can feel a stress headache brewing.

Marilla looks down at the letter in shock.

Dear Mother,

I fear I am not quite as much of a bachelor as you suppose. Have you heard any of my songs? I have gone and fallen head first into my muse. Typical, foolish me, but I’ve never been happier. We’ll visit soon.

Julian

She doesn’t like to think about Julian’s songs, about how he couldn’t even keep the name she had given him. She thrusts the letter to her husband. “He’s coming to visit,” she says in disbelief. “When’s the last time we saw him?”

Ethbert considers this as he reads the letter. “At least five years.”

“And I can’t believe he hasn’t spoken of this ‘muse’ any sooner. I’m not sure I believe him.”

Ethbert gave Marilla a placating smile. “He’s probably just ashamed he hasn’t found himself a wife yet. We’ll find out when he comes, doubtless with an excuse about where his beloved is.”

Marilla sniffs. “You’re right.”

Nell looks down at the scene in the kitchen with wide eyes from her spot crouched down between the banisters at the top of the stairs. Her brother? With a wife? She could scarcely imagine it. She thinks back to the last time Julian was here, the way he had boasted to her about his conquests for hours, away from the prying ears of their parents.

Well, surely if he had someone, he’d have talked about her in his songs. She resolves to get her hands on some of his music. She’ll solve this mystery before Julian even gets here.

“The first thing to know is that they’re awful,” Jaskier says, ticking down one of his fingers as he walks along beside Roach, seemingly uncaring of the dust that’s drifting up from her hooves and onto his doublet. “Well, except for my sister. Be nice to my sister, please, Geralt.”

“I’m nice to everyone.”

Jaskier stifles a laugh. “Mm. Be extra nice to her, then.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You need to loosen up, too. They’re never going to think we’re together when you look all...constipated like that.”

Geralt huffs.

“You’re lucky opposites attract,” Jaskier says, before dragging a hand down his face. “This is never going to work, is it?”

Nell squints at the lyrics spread out before her. This doesn’t sound very romantic to her at all. Maybe a breakup song? She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss , Nell hums. She can’t help but notice there’s three different people the song is talking about, though. Odd. She shakes her head and moves onto the next song.

This one is just a ditty, so Nell turns the page to see a song about the witcher Jaskier travels with. And then another, and another. Is he all Julian writes about? She expected to see love songs, not this nonsense. She goes through more of his catalogue, briefly regretting spending her allowance on the songbook, but she supposes it supports her brother, after all.

She’ll just have to see what she can wheedle out of him while he’s here.

Finally, after flipping through no less than four more songs about the witcher, she lands on one titled “The Eternal Flame.”

Interesting.

Around your house, now white from frost

Sparkles ice on pond and marsh

Your longing eyes grieve what is lost

But naught can change this parting harsh

Spring will return, on the road the rain will fall

Hearts will be warmed by the heat of the sun

It must be thus, for fire still smolders in us all

An eternal fire, hope for each one

There, Nell can read some romance in. She rubs the ends of her hair together in thought. This one song certainly isn’t enough proof that Julian has actually found a wife. More like he’s still pining over some old flame. It doesn’t seem like he’s written very many good love songs at all.

Nell rolls her eyes, thinking back to all the raunchy songs in his catalogue. Typical.

There’s the squeak of the door opening downstairs, and Nell hastily slams the book shut and hides it under her mattress. She doesn’t want Julian seeing and getting a bigger head, after all.

She straightens her dress and runs down the steps, eager to see if Julian’s by himself, which is her guess. She comes to a skidding halt when she sees who is with him.

Oh.

She supposes he does write love songs, after all.

Geralt shifts uncomfortably from the scrutiny Jaskier’s family is giving him. He wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder, hoping he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. He looks over to Jaskier for help, and Jaskier shrugs off his arm and takes Geralt by the hand, leading him forward to meet them.

“Mother, Father, this is Geralt. Nell, this is a very large, scary witcher who will eat you up if you don’t behave.”

Geralt frowns. He thought Jaskier told him to be extra nice to his sister?

Nell laughs, a delightful, tinkling thing that reminds him of Jaskier’s. “He’s going to like me better than you by the time he leaves.”

Geralt looks back to Jaskier, only to see him sticking his tongue out at her. Right. Their relationship is definitely more antagonistic than Jaskier had prepared him for, so Geralt is glad he had Lambert to prepare him for these things.

He’s not sure his interactions with Lambert would be appropriate to apply to Jaskier’s sister, though, so Geralt will let Jaskier handle the ribbing.

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt finally says. “Jaskier’s told me a lot about you.”

Which, of course, is a lie, but Geralt knows that’s the polite thing to say.

“He’s never even mentioned me, has he?”

When Geralt waffles, Nell sniffs dramatically and casts Jaskier a betrayed look.

Jaskier shoots that look right back to Geralt, and Geralt is so impossibly out of his depth right now. “Hmm.”

“Now look what you’ve done, you’ve made him regret agreeing to meet you in the first place!” Jaskier cries.

“That’s quite enough, Julian,” Jaskier’s mother cuts in, and—Julian?

He shoots Jaskier a puzzled look. Obviously, there was a little more he should have told Geralt before they came here.

“Well, I’m afraid we are absolutely knackered; we’ve been riding all day. I’m going to head upstairs…”

Geralt shoots him a look.

“I mean, we are going to head out to the stables and make sure that Geralt’s very polite mare is taken care of.”

“We have someone—”

“No, no, Geralt is very picky about who cares for his horse.”

With that, Jaskier drags Geralt out of the house and to the barn. “I thought the goal was for them to like me?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier snorts. “Gods, no. The goal is to have them believe that we’re in a relationship, and they would never believe I would choose anyone they actually liked .”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Geralt. It’ll be fine. Just stop acting like you’re terrified of me every time I touch you. Maybe we should practice.”

Jaskier gets a gleam in his eye as he darts a glance back to the house, and then his very warm mouth is on Geralt’s. Geralt’s surprised for a second before he relaxes and kisses Jaskier back. He’ll show Jaskier he’s not terrified of him. Geralt would scoff if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.

Geralt brings one hand up to rest on Jaskier’s jaw and one to wind through his soft hair. Geralt strokes his thumb over Jaskier’s cheekbone, and Jaskier melts against him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and tugging him closer.

“What was that for?” Geralt says, trying to keep his breathing even after they pull away.

Jaskier peers around him and looks back up at the house. “Well, they were watching through the window. Figured we’d give them a show. Alas.”

Jaskier turns and heads to the stables. Geralt trails behind him, surreptitiously bringing a hand up to his medallion to make sure it’s not vibrating.

He is in way over his head.

Nell stares at them with wide eyes from her bedroom window. She had...not exactly doubted them when Julian showed up with his witcher in tow, but she hadn’t exactly believed them, either. Who could let Julian trail around after them for years and not get sick of him?

If she hadn’t witnessed them kissing with her own two eyes, she never would have believed it. She pulls the book out from under the mattress and looks at the songs again, this time with a more critical eye. She can’t believe she didn’t see it before. Especially “Her Sweet Kiss.” She’d never admit it to Julian, but she’s glad he won over whoever this her is. He looks happy, in a way that he never did while he was here.

Her mother calls for her, so Nell sighs and puts away the book. She runs down the stairs. “Yes?”

“I need help with supper.”

Nell sets the table, noting they’re using the fancy silverware, which is a surprise, because her mother has never taken a particular interest of what Julian thinks of her before this, so this is an interesting time to start. She’s sure their meal is going to be a very uncomfortable affair. Well, not for her, unless it starts to become painful to hold her laughter in.

She can’t wait.

She’s just finishing arranging the cutlery when her mother turns back to her. “Can you believe Julian? I knew witchers were for hire, but I didn’t think their services extended to...this.”

Nell barely holds back a snort.

Jaskier looks over to Geralt and suppresses a sigh. He had just planted a hand on Geralt’s thigh, and he’s sure his parents think that he just stabbed Geralt, from his reaction. He scoots his chair closer over to Geralt and drapes an arm over his shoulders. “Relax,” he whispers into Geralt’s ear.

Geralt does, marginally, but Jaskier can still see the doubt on his parent’s faces.

Jaskier’s father clears his throat. “So, Geralt, um. I suppose we know what you do, but, um. Um.”

“Honestly, haven’t you heard any of my songs? They are all the very true accounts of what Geralt gets up to,” Jaskier butts in.

Geralt takes a gulp of wine from his goblet to avoid commenting.

Jaskier notices, and elbows him in the ribs. “Geralt loves my songs, right?”

Jaskier’s parents are staring right at him, and it’s more than a little unnerving. “Right. They’re...very romantic.”

Jaskier’s grip around Geralt’s shoulders tightens. “Thank you, darling.”

Geralt is sure Vesemir once told him witchers can’t blush, but his face feels hot all of a sudden, and everyone is looking at him expectantly.

Geralt takes another drink.

Jaskier shakes his head. “Geralt’s been so nervous about meeting all of you. The poor dear is overwhelmed.”

Geralt shoots him a glare, before softening the look into something more akin to convincing Jaskier’s parents that they’re very happily together. Jaskier hastily bolts down the rest of his dinner before he drags Geralt up the stairs and to his room.

He shuts the door behind them, leaning against and tugging at his hair. “There’s no way they’re buying this,” he moans.

“I thought I was being rather convincing.”

The corner of Geralt’s lips twitch, so Jaskier hits him with a pillow. “You did not, you brute! Geralt if you’re doing this on purpose—”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt soothes. “I’m not. It’s just. Acting is not exactly on my list of talents.”

Jaskier crosses his arms and huffs. Geralt tugs him over to the bed and makes him sit down, plopping beside him. “What can I do?”

Jaskier throws his arm over his eyes and lays back, rather over dramatically, if you ask Geralt. “Nothi—Well, actually.”

Geralt does not like the sound of that. He was offering more to be nice than anything.

“We have to have sex.”

Geralt’s mouth goes dry. “What?”

Jaskier scoffs. “This is no time to act the blushing virgin, Geralt,” he says, before his hands are on Geralt’s clothes, tugging them and unbuttoning.

Geralt jerks back, but Jaskier is already done. “There. Nice and dishevelled.”

Geralt gapes at him for a moment, giving Jaskier the opportunity to muss his hair. Geralt growls.

“I know, I know. That took you hours to accomplish.”

Geralt catches his wrist. “Just, hold on a second. What are we doing?”

“We have to consummate my childhood bed, Geralt,” Jaskier says, completely seriously. “Or at least make my parents think we did.”

Jaskier starts moving his hips on the bed, making the headboard brush up against the wall with every gyration. “Mmm, fuck, Geralt, right there!” he cries.

“ Jaskier!” Geralt hisses, but Jaskier pays him no mind.

“You feel so good, darling!” He throws Geralt a wink, and Geralt tries not to combust.

Jaskier undoes three of the buttons of his doublet, revealing a thicket of chest hair. Geralt casts his eyes to the ceiling. Gods help him. “You know, you don’t have to be so stoic all the time, dear heart. You can let me hear you,” Jaskier says, pointedly prodding at Geralt.

Geralt shakes his head furiously. This is not what he agreed to.

Jaskier gives Geralt a put on sigh before clearing his throat quietly. “Oh, Jaskier,” he says in a deep voice.

“That doesn’t even sound like me,” Geralt whispers furiously.

Jaskier just arches an eyebrow, and Geralt knows that’s a challenge. He swings his leg over Jaskier, straddling him and trying to ignore both of their pounding hearts. It’s the heat of carrying out their plan, Geralt is sure, and not at all Jaskier’s proximity.

Geralt rocks the bed back and forth, making the headboard slam against the wall now.

Gearlt gives a half hearted moan, and Jaskier gives him a glare. “You’re making me sound like a terrible lover who’s left you horribly unfulfilled!” he hisses.

Geralt rolls his eyes and gives a more enthusiastic moan this time. Geralt begrudgingly keeps this up for a few more minutes before he grunts and clambers off of Jaskier. “A little quick to the finish line?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt shoots him a rude hand gesture.

Jaskier gasps in mock offense. “Why don’t you go get me a wash rag?” he suggests.

Geralt glares at him; this is taking the charade much too far, if you ask Geralt, but he follows Jaskier’s direction to the bathroom—where Jaskier’s mother is standing. Geralt suddenly becomes conscious of what a mess he must look like right now, thanks to Jaskier. “Hello again,” Marilla says.

Geralt grunts and nods to her, before remembering he should probably say something, anything. “Hi.”

Geralt grabs a washcloth and flees.

When he gets back to Jaskier, Jaskier is sitting on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, scribbling away in his notebook, the inkwell balancing precariously on the mattress. He still has his buttons undone, and Geralt curses himself for even noticing.

“Did you run into anyone?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt’s disgruntled expression must be answer enough, because Jaskier rubs his hands together in delight. “Excellent.”

Marilla scurries back to her room, completely scandalized. She can’t believe they would...defile her home like this. It’s bad enough that Julian couldn’t choose anyone they suggested for himself, and now he brings home a witcher ? He’s trying to make her gray even faster.

She shuts the bedroom door behind her and looks to Ethbert. Her expression must linger on her face, because he asks her, “What?”

“They—” She makes a floppy hand gesture.

“Are you sure? What would a witcher want with Julian? There’s something not right about this.”

Marilla fans herself. “I know. They’re not even wed. It’s impropriety, is what it is.”

Ethbert squints doubtfully.

Geralt is not a morning person. When Jaskier first discovered this, he was puzzled. Geralt is the only person who dictates his schedule, so no one would yell at him if he chose to sleep until midday.

The more Jaskier thinks about it, though, the more it makes sense. Of course Geralt would wake up at the asscrack of dawn; he probably thinks of it as a punishment or some other such self loathing nonsense.

It’s certainly more of a punishment for Jaskier, because he’s the one that has to put up with Geralt’s bearish attitude every morning.

Geralt blinks awake and squints at the rising sun like it’s personally offended him, and Jaskier closes his eyes, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Morning,” Geralt grates out.

Jaskier’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Good morning.”

“I know you weren’t asleep,” Geralt says, sounding annoyed. “You could have woken me up.”

“Mm. And deal with a grumpy witcher first thing in the morning? I don’t think so.”

Geralt scoffs. “I’m not grumpy.”

“Right.”

Geralt swings his legs out of the bed and begins getting dressed. Jaskier stretches into the warmth Geralt left behind, tugging the blankets up over him.

What? He never said he was a morning person, either. “Where are you going?”

“Into town.”

“For what? Do you need things for potions? I’ll go with you.”

“No, no, I’m just going to see if there’s any contracts; you stay here.”

Jaskier gives a sly grin. “Does my family make you nervous?”

“ No .”

“Hmm,” Jaskier says.

“Shut up.”

“Well, don’t go gallivanting off without telling me where. You know I worry.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “No need.”

Jaskier adopts a high pitched voice. “Why, thank you, Jaskier, my dearest friend. I’m so touched to know someone is looking out for me.”

“It’s pretty sad if you have to imagine someone to be your friend.”

Jaskier splutters as Geralt walks out of the room, a smile tugging at his lips.

Jaskier sighs as the door shuts behind him, wanting to bundle himself back in the blankets and Geralt’s scent, but he resists the urge and stumbles out of bed to pull on his clothes.

He makes it down the stairs and to the kitchen, picking up a bowl of eggs and whisking them, the need to be helpful overriding his desire to collapse in a chair and go back to sleep.

“Good morning, Julian,” his mother says stiffly. “Where’s your beau?”

Jaskier lets himself smile at the image of Geralt’s reaction to being heard of himself referred to as Jaskier’s beau .

“He’s out looking for a contract. He’ll be back for lunch, I’m sure.”

He gives his mother a bright grin. He thinks he should have made Geralt suck a hickey on his neck, but, to be honest, he’s not sure if he could have beared that. Geralt had already been so unbearably close to Jaskier when he straddled him. Jaskier’s not sure what had possessed Geralt to do that, all the while expecting Jaskier to keep his hands to himself.

He’s not sure Geralt’s looked in a mirror anytime in the past fifty years because of the whole monster-staring-back-at-him thing (complete horse shit, in Jaskier’s humble opinion, not that Geralt cares to listen to it), but Jaskier is forced to look at him every day, and he suffers.

He suffers every time he trails behind Geralt atop Roach, watching the subtle shift of his back muscles as he rides, and he’s devastated when Geralt deems Roach too tired to carry him and leads her in his tight leather pants. If Geralt hadn’t been wearing just such a thing when Jaskier met him, Jaskier would be convinced Geralt does it just to personally spite Jaskier.

To doom him to look but not touch for the rest of his life. As such, he had never expected Geralt to actually agree to this whole charade. But, he did, and now here they are. Here they are, with Jaskier knowing exactly what Geralt tastes like (less onion than one would expect), but still having to not just kiss the blank looks Geralt likes to give him right off his face.

It’s enough to drive a man mad.

Geralt looks at the pitiful notice board and sighs. He tugs down the one prospect to examine it more closely. Something is stealing a farmer’s sheep. There’s a few possibilities for what it could be, ranging from minor nuisances to things that he shouldn’t even mention to Jaskier because he’ll nag at Geralt until he lets him tag along, and those are always the kind of jobs that Jaskier should be nowhere near.

Geralt’s not sure how someone with the survival instinct of a fly larva is still alive, especially when he insists on following Geralt around, but Geralt’s not going to let Jaskier get hurt on his watch.

Geralt pockets the notice and goes to talk to the farmer who set the contract, but he has very little useful information to tell Geralt. All he offers is that the sheep have been disappearing without a trace. Geralt walks the edges of the property and a bit into the woods, doing a cursory inspection for the carcasses, but he doesn’t find them, either.

Hmm.

Geralt turns and heads back to Jaskier.

Geralt’s acting out of sorts when he returns from town, so Jaskier tugs him aside. “What’s wrong?”

Geralt just grunts and shakes his head.

Jaskier sighs. Typical. “Weren’t there any contracts?”

“There were, just—I don’t know what it is. But I’m sure it will be fine.”

Geralt even tries to give him a bracing smile, and even though it looks more like a grimace, Jaskier knows it’s not good if Geralt has stooped to trying to comfort him.

Jaskier hums at him and leads him to the table where his family are waiting on them for lunch. Jaskier keeps a hand on Geralt’s knee, because he’s allowed to, at the moment.

He delights in watching Geralt make awkward conversation with Nell, but it seems like they’re quickly warming up to each other. Jaskier’s mouth goes dry at the thought of them teaming up on him. They would truly be a menace.

Jaskier’s mood is quickly soured when they finish eating and Geralt insists on heading back out.

“Shouldn’t you wait until the morning? You know, be well rested?”

Geralt shrugs. “It’s been taking the animals at night. Better chance of finding it if I go now.”

“Geralt, we’re not exactly short on coin right now. Why even go?”

“If I don’t take care of this, who will?” Geralt huffs. “This farmer’s livelihood is at risk.”

Jaskier grins. “Geralt, you unbearable softie. You make me look callous.”

Jaskier darts a glance over to his family, who are pretending not to watch them. He takes that as license to tug Geralt in for a chaste kiss. Geralt stiffens against him, and Jaskier is just about ready to pull away, before Geralt starts kissing him back. He makes it decidedly less chaste, and Jaskier puts a hand on his chest. He lets himself savor it for one, two, three seconds before he takes a step back.

“Geralt, there are children present!” he says in a scandalized tone, grinning at Nell.

She glares, and he shoots her a wink.

Geralt clears his throat, and Jaskier jerks his attention back to him. “Right. Well, if I’m not going to talk you out of it, be safe.”

“I always am.”

Ethbert watches as Julian paces back and forth as he waits for the witcher to return. “Sit down,” he says gruffly.

Julian looks at the clock, then out the window, completely ignoring him. Ethbert snorts. Good to know nothing’s changed, then.

“Surely it can’t take this long to murder one measly little thing,” Julian mutters.

“He’s fine,” Ethbert says. “It’d take a lot to overpower a witcher, right?”

Jaskier sits down in a huff, and Ethbert starts to wonder if maybe their relationship is less of a farce than he thought. It’s certainly an odd one, and he’s still clueless as to what they could possibly have in common, but Julian is painting a convincing picture right now, especially as he tugs his cloak off the hook and settles it around his shoulders.

“Where are you going?”

“To find him!”

Ethbert jerks out of his seat with a splutter. “You can’t be serious. You think you’re going to be able to handle whatever a witcher couldn’t?”

Julian pauses. “Well, no. He’s probably lying in a ditch somewhere, slowly bleeding to death. Oh gods, what if he’s out there bleeding to death?”

Julian becomes even more frantic and rushes out the door and to the stables.

Ethbert resigns himself to a long night.

Jaskier clambers onto one of the smaller mares. He doesn’t have the patience to go through the whole process of putting all the tack on, so he clings to the horse’s neck and prays he doesn’t fall off. He digs into her with his knees, and away they go.

Jaskier has no idea which way Geralt went, but there’s some fairly fresh hoof tracks in the wet dirt of the road, so he follows them and hopes they’re Roach’s. Eventually, they go off the road, and Jaskier is left to squint at trampled grass. He wonders if Geralt would be proud of his tracking abilities, and he smiles thinking about the inevitable jab. Jaskier would respond with something about how Geralt was no better than a dog sniffing the air, and all would be well.

But first, he has to find him. Jaskier slows the horse to a walk as the trail becomes fainter, squinting as he looks at the ground. He comes to an outcrop of rocks with an opening just big enough to go inside, and he dismounts his horse cautiously. He certainly doesn’t want to deal with whatever calls this place its home.

Jaskier notices blood, and his heart kicks up a notch. It’s a rust red color, so it’s not very recent. Jaskier follows the splatters, and as he goes, they get brighter and brighter, until Jaskier’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest with the panicked tap dance it’s doing.

It certainly doesn’t help matters when he finds Roach wandering through the woods by herself. “Where’s Geralt?” he asks, and she snorts at him helpfully.

Jaskier casts a look at the blood glistening under the leaves underfoot and knows Geralt has to be close. Roach gives an agitated whinny before she turns and trots off, and Jaskier rushes after her.

In the end, Geralt’s not all that far away. Jaskier sees his hair before he sees anything else, and then he’s sprinting over to him with little thought for anything else. Jaskier drops to his knees beside Geralt. He looks paler than normal, even though Jaskier hadn’t known that was possible

There’s so much blood, and he’s not moving. Jaskier sucks in a breath. “Geralt? Geralt?” he asks, his voice getting louder and more panicked. “Geralt?”

Jaskier resists the urge to shake him and jostle whatever injuries he has, but there’s bile rising in his throat, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do—

His eyes latch on to the infinitesimal rise of Geralt’s chest, and the pressure on his own suddenly lifts. He shuts his eyes for a moment. Geralt isn’t dead, and he can work with that.

Jaskier takes a closer look at Geralt and finds there’s a chunk missing from his side. It’s still bleeding freely, and Jaskier tries to resist the urge to be sick. He works Geralt free of his armor with shaky hands, so he can take a closer look.

Geralt moans and starts to stir, and Jaskier plants his hands on Geralt’s chest. “Just stay still; you’re going to be fine.”

“Jask?” Geralt slurs.

“Yes, yes, it’s me, and you know I’m far too stubborn to let you die.”

“My pack—”

Jaskier could slap himself for not thinking of that. “Right. Um, your potions.”

He whistles for Roach, and she approaches skittishly. Jaskier glances back down at Geralt, and his eyes are slipping shut. Jaskier tightens his grip on Geralt’s shoulder. “Geralt! You have to stay awake. Do you hear me?”

Geralt murmurs something Jaskier doesn’t quite catch, but his eyes open wider. Geralt’s pupils are so dilated, there’s barely a ring of yellow left around the outsides. Jaskier clambers up to look through Roach’s saddlebags, and his heart clenches when Geralt’s hand comes up to clutch at him as he moves away. “I’m not going anywhere,” he soothes.

He rustles through the saddlebag. “Fuck, Geralt, do you really need so many tiny bottles?”

Geralt gives him a weak chuckle before he hisses in pain.

“Which one do you need?” Jaskier asks, hoping Geralt is coherent enough that he’s not about to poison himself.

Jaskier pulls the pouch out of the saddle bag to show him the options. Geralt points to a few, and Jaskier eyes them doubtfully. He uncorks them anyway, sitting back down and settling Geralt’s head into his lap, helping him get the elixirs down, even when Geralt tries to bat his hands away.

“Save your energy for something useful, would you?” Jaskier tuts.

Jaskier prods at the wound in Geralt’s side, jerking his hand back when Geralt winces. “I forgot just how delicate you were, my apologies.”

Geralt barely manages a huff at that, and Jaskier furrows his brows in worry. He pulls Geralt’s shirt away from the wound, biting his lip as it pulls skin away. The wound looks a sickly green underneath all the blood, and Jaskier gasps a little. This is much worse than he thought.

“Geralt, it’s—Geralt?”

Geralt’s eyes have slipped shut, and Jaskier scrabbles at him, trying to make him wake up again, but he stays stubbornly still. The only thing giving Jaskier even a tiny glimmer of peace is that his chest is still rising and falling.

Tears are threatening to burst to Jaskier’s eyes, but he pushes them down and takes a deep breath. Somehow, he manages to heave Geralt across Roach. Roach snorts, disgruntled, and Jaskier runs a hand over her flank, trying to soothe her.

He looks around, but he has no idea where the mare he rode out here went. Oops. Hopefully it will wander back to his parent’s estate, but if not, well, will they even miss it?

Jaskier gathers Roach’s reins in his hand and leads her back towards town at a steady trot.

When Geralt comes to, he’s sweltering. He seems to be in a tomb of blankets, and the fire is roaring in the corner of the room. The room? He’s not quite sure how he got here; he would have expected to be lying on the cold ground instead of a soft and yielding bed. There’s even less lumps than he’s accustomed to.

He groans when he tries to move, and there’s a rustling from beside him. Geralt looks over to see Jaskier jerking from his chair to fuss over him. Jaskier’s eyes are red when he finally looks up.

“You promised me you were going to be safe, you terror,” Jaskier sniffs.

Geralt doesn’t have his wits about him enough yet to be dealing with crying bards. “Hmm.”

“Geralt, you—What was it?”

“A cockatrice. It got me with its tail; spit a little poison at me just for fun.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you in the ass.”

This makes Geralt look even grumpier, if possible. Jaskier’s glad; he much prefers that to the slack expression Geralt had had while he was sleeping, and Jaskier was terrified he wouldn’t wake up.

Jaskier looks back at him, and Geralt can’t help himself when he reaches out to swipe away Jaskier’s tears with his thumb. “I’m fine,” he murmurs.

Geralt tosses the covers off himself so he can see his wound. It’s wrapped rather nicely, and when Geralt pokes at it, it feels like there’s some kind of poultice under the bandages. He raises his eyebrows at Jaskier, waiting for an explanation.

“A healer.”

Geralt’s surprised Jaskier found someone who would treat him; most people aren’t too keen on helping witchers.

“I yelled at him until he helped you,” Jaskier admits.

Geralt huffs a laugh. “I’m sure he was terrified.”

Jaskier finally cracks a grin. “Hey, you’re not the only scary one around here.”

Jaskier’s eyes drop to his hand, the one that was just on his face, and fuck, what was Geralt even thinking, but Jaskier reaches out and puts his hand over Geralt’s.

“I was worried,” he says softly. And then, sharper, “Don’t you dare say hmm .”

“Hmm.”

Geralt laughs, and there’s a warmth that settles in his chest when Jaskier does the same.

“You’re incorrigible,” Jaskier finally says.

There’s a lengthy silence, and when Geralt looks up, Jaskier is staring back at him.

“You got the trophy, right?”

“Geralt, my ears must be deceiving me. You cannot possibly be worried about that right now.”

“How else am I going to get paid? Last time I checked, you liked to eat. It needs done before something else drags the carcass away.”

Jaskier sighs and huffs and does everything short of stomping his feet before he gathers his cloak from the back of his chair. He glares at Geralt before he slams the door shut behind him.

Geralt rubs a shaky hand down his face.

He’s an idiot.

Jaskier grumbles to himself as he makes his way back out into the chilly night. His advances are obviously unwelcome, if this is the kind of punishment Geralt is doling out to him. Well, that’s fine. Jaskier will just let him bleed out next time.

Okay, he won’t, but that doesn’t mean he won’t consider it for a few seconds.

Stupid emotionally repressed witchers. He can’t say he wasn’t hoping something would happen with Geralt while they were here, but he should have known better.

Jaskier trudges all the way back to near where he found Geralt, pointedly not looking at the blood stain on the grass. He’s fine , he reminds himself. Jaskier pokes around for a little bit until he remembers the cave he had seen earlier and some vague knowledge that cockatrices prefer them.

He’s half expecting another to show up as he plucks some feathers and cuts off the head, for good measure. He almost gags as his knife goes roughly through the bone and sinew, but he manages to keep his supper. He looks around for any last creatures that are just waiting to murder him, but none appear.

He sighs and makes the trek back.

When he arrives, Geralt is sitting at the table, talking to his family, and Jaskier wonders for a moment if he should be concerned about a doppler. Nell is eating up every word Geralt says, and Jaskier hopes she has pried some good stories out of him that Jaskier can repurpose as songs later.

For now, he swings the cockatrice head up onto the table, and silence falls. “There you go, love,” he says cheerfully.

Geralt is looking back at him with a peculiar expression, and he rises from his chair stiffly. Jaskier rushes over to him to help, and Geralt reluctantly drapes an arm over his shoulder. Geralt leads him to the bathroom, and Jaskier makes sure to say loudly enough for the rest of his family to hear, “Well, if you needed help holding it you only had to ask.”

Geralt huffs in exasperation and shuts the door behind him. Jaskier raises his eyebrows in question. “Did you actually need help, or…” Jaskier trails off, and then Geralt’s lips are on his, warm and hungry, and anymore of Jaskier’s thoughts fly out of his brain.

His arms automatically come up to wrap around Geralt’s waist, until he registers that this is Geralt , and he puts a hand on his chest. “Um. Do you need your head checked out, as well? I thought it was your side, but I can go get the healer again.”

“I’m fine,” Geralt growls.

Jaskier’s not convinced Geralt hasn’t sustained a lasting brain injury, but then Geralt is saying, “I should have done this a long time ago,” and kissing him again.

What is Jaskier to do but kiss him back? It’d be terribly impolite not to, after all. When Geralt finally pulls away, Jaskier asks breathlessly, “What was that for?”

Geralt shrugs, considering. “You looked kind of hot carrying that cockatrice head. The trachea hanging down really got me going.”

Jaskier stares at him in disbelief for a beat before they both dissolve into laughter.

“You’re an idiot,” Jaskier says. “You’re my idiot.”

Ethbert looks across the table, where what his son is doing can only be called terrorizing his witcher, and harrumphs to himself. This is not exactly who he pictured Julian ending up with, to say the least.

He wonders the etiquette for having a son in law older than he is. He supposes he’s going to have to find out.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #fanfiction #contemplative writing

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definitelynotsuzumi · 3 years

Text

Zapped to Another World

Genshin Impact x Fem!Reader

I wrote this in my spare time when I was working back in November and thought that I should share this ^-^

Depending on the comments/notes and if I have spare time, I may be updating this.

[Masterlist]

The rain poured down your umbrella. The clouds coloured the sky a dark grey as you ran for the bus. You sighed as you reached the traffic light. Yup, you were definitely not going to be able to catch it now.

School had ended for the year, which meant more free time for you and the new game you had recently gotten into. Genshin Impact.

You could not help but smile at the thought of it. With school out of the picture, you could finally focus on the game completely. There was so many things to do. Farming for artifacts, completing your daily commissions…

You sloshed your way over as the lights turned green. While you love that school is out, you honestly hated the wet weather that came with the winter break and the feeling of wet socks on your feet. After safely crossing the road, you winced as a white truck rushed by, soaking your clothes through as the giant puddle you have been trying to avoid poured onto your skirt and legs.

You let out a sigh as you quickly took shelter under a tree nearby to try and wring out the remaining water when it happened.

“Just my luck…”You muttered as you clumsily balanced your umbrella, “Can it get any worse?”

Just as those words left your lips, it happened. A white flash lit the sky for a brief second. But it was too late. Thousands of volts came cascading upon your body and everything turned white.

“This is your fault.” You heard a voice. It sounded like a young, sulky boy.

“How is this my fault? You’re the one who lashed out when I put down that +4 card down.”

“THAT AIN’T FAIR STILL! I WAS SO CLOSE TO WINNING AND YOU BLEW IT!”

“Uh…What’s going on?” You blinked as your vision settled. You sat in what looked like a library of sorts, with several shelves lining the walls and a long white and gold marble table in the centre of it all. A girl with long, platinum hair glared down at her male counterpart, who huffed in annoyance.

“How about you explain it to her, Artem.”

“Sorry, but I don’t speak to cheaters.”

“Oh for gods sake- fine. We apologize for uhm…Killing you. Truly, a thousand apologies. If only someone can control their temper for once in their life-“ The girl shot a dirty look at Artem.

“LIKE YOU ARE ONE TO TALK! SOLARIA, YOU SINGED MY EYEBROWS OVER KILLING YOU IN AMONG US!”

“Well excuse you! My anger was perfectly justified! You voted me out even when I told you the truth and that I was innocent!”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO EMBROIDER AND GROOM THEM BACK TO NORMAL AGAIN?”

“Could you guys please stop fighting for 10 seconds?” You yelled over the noise. The girl and boy finally stopped, leaving you to rub at your ringing ears.

You sighed. Kids were always a handful back in your home. You had to take care of your cousins whenever your aunt was over, and it often resulted with your ears ringing and your head pounding.

“What’s done is done. I’m…well, dead and I seriously have no idea where I am.” You said, trying to stay composed.

“Well…In your human terms, this is kind of like the After Life.” The boy, Artem explained, sighing as he put down his Uno cards.

“Or well, it shouldn’t since…You were supposed to live for like, another 50 to 60 years. But someone messed it up.” The girl, Solaria, summoned a book from a shelf. You blinked as a weathered leather book with gilded, golden pages floated down onto the table.

“Shut up. I said that I was sorry, didn’t I?” Artem groaned.

“Sir Artem, are you losing your braincells? I was the one who apologized. You still owe the human an apology.” Solaria bit back icily.

With a wave of her hand, the pages of the book flipped and she studied it carefully for a minute before looking back up.

“Well, as a soul now, you have an option. You can go into Elysium or be reincarnated.” Solaria sighed as Artem huffed again.

“Huh. What do you know? Elysium sounds real good right about now-“You thought out loud as Artem’s eyes turned wide with fear.

“Please don’t go into Elysium!” Artem yelled. The books shook in the shelves as his voice echoed.

“Ow, inside voice please? Hasn’t your mother taught you better?” You winced in pain. It seems that immortals had a throat of steel, judging from the way they could shout infinitely.

“I’m really sorry, but if Dad finds out I brought in another human because I accidentally killed them…He’s going to banish me…To Earth…” Artem looked down onto the table.

He was unable to meet your eyes as you stared at him with bemusement.

“Yeah, as much as I hate to say it, please…Reconsider on our offer to reincarnate. He is on thin ice with Father and if he is banished, I’d have to take on his duties as well. I’m pretty exhausted with the workload as it is.” Solaria sighed.

“As long as it’s not Earth, I’m cool with it.” You looked up at the ceiling, which took your breath away. The entire solar system was on it. With it, was the familiar sphere of white, green and blue.

“Hm, that is easy enough. I could reincarnate you into my world.” Artem brightened up.

Solaria sighed with relief.

“And to make up for it, I could buff you up with a couple of blessings here and there-“

“Within reason.” Solaria cut in, with a sharp look at Artem.

“Psssh, as if it’s hard to make a Gnosis.” Artem had considerably relaxed after hearing your statement.

“Are you serious? Don’t you even know the situation down at Teyvat?!” Your eyes widened. Were they talking about what you were thinking of?

Artem rose to his feet, the ivory wings on his lower back flaring. His eyes gleamed gold as he stared down his sister.

“It’s my world. I do what I like with it. If you don’t like it, get a world of your own.”

“You only got your world because Mother took pity on you. Don’t act all big when you have killed so many humans.” Solaria hummed, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll only grant this human the bare minimum. Anything more, and I’ll let Father know of your deeds thus far, even if it means more work for me.” Solaria glared back. Her eyes gleamed silver as she did so. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“That’s all that I’ll need then. Work on your blessings and gifts. I’ll work on mine.” Artem turned away from his sister. The siblings set to work, the atmosphere of ice cold professionalism now in the air.

Solaria rose from her place on the table. With a flick of a finger, the Uno cards vanished with a burst of gold sparkles. The leather book floated beside her as she constantly referred to its pages while flying around the room.

“Hmm…Not much of a combatant, I see. Polearms and swords will probably be hard for you. Perhaps…A catalyst?” She pulled out a bright blue book adorned in gold, with feathers sticking out.

Blowing off any dust from the beautiful book, she casually tossed it over her shoulder and onto you. You instinctively brought your arms up to protect your face but as the book hit your arms, it disappeared into a burst of gold.

“Huh?” You blinked as you saw the book reappear beside you, its pages flipping.

Solaria returned with a satchel and a bag of gold coins. Looking satisfied as she noticed the book beside you, she inserted the bag of coins into the satchel before sliding it over your shoulder. Solaria hummed to herself before smiling again.

Reaching behind her neck, Solaria detached a shimmering teardrop necklace before slipping it around yours.

“There’s nothing special about it, apart from it glowing. I thought it would be a nice touch.” Solaria winked at you.

Tilting your chin up, you froze with shock as she pressed her lips against yours.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh, please. Don’t be flustered. That was merely a blessing of mine. It will help you when you need to speak with the natives of the land.” Solaria coolly said as she wiped her mouth.

You were still reeling in shock. Your throat seemed to tighten as you coughed.

“..Thank you, for agreeing with us on our selfish request. To be forcibly stripped of our powers can be the worst pain and humiliation a god or goddess can bear.” Solaria murmured to you as she hurried to the end of the room, where she knelt and seemed to draw symbols in gold.

You held back your tongue. ‘What about me? I got zapped to death here.’ You thought to yourself.

“It is done. Please step into that summoning circle there.” Artem held a floating, golden cylinder in his hands. Solaria rose from her place on the floor, gesturing for you to come over.

It was a Gnosis! You were quick to obey as you hurried to Solaria’s side.

Stepping into the centre, you turned to face Artem and Solaria, who stood side by side. They flared their wings as you sensed an energy swirl around you.

“I, Artem, God of the Moon, grant you passage and dominion over my world, Teyvat. Do you accept, (Y/N) (L/N)?” Artem’s voice echoed in your ears.

“I accept.” As the words left your lips, the Gnosis within his hands flew into your chest. You gasped as it did so, a heat spreading rapidly across your chest.

“Be safe on your travels, (Y/N) (L/N).” Solaria flashed a warm smile as you coughed.

“Resigno!”

The gold summoning circle glowed bright blue and you found yourself falling through the blue skies.

You screeched ungracefully as you fell from the sky headfirst. The green grass was coming up way too fast.

‘Am I going to die again?’ You thought as you held out your arms to break your fall, only for a huge gust of wind to cushion your fall.

“Huh?” You blinked in surprise as a person clad in green floated beside you.

It was a young boy with 2 braids, which gleamed blue in the light. His eyes were a beautiful mix of green and blue.

‘Venti?’ You gaped as he grabbed your hands and guided you back onto the ground.

“Never thought I’d have an audience during my practice session. Are you okay?” Venti grinned at you.

“Never...Never better. Thank you...”You gave a thumbs up as you got air back into your lungs again.

His deft fingers plucked at his harp as he sat down on the soft grass.

“It’s no problem. But what brings you here anyways? Not many people know of this spot.” Venti tilted his head. It seemed as though you uncovered his secret place.

“I- uh well...Accidents happen. I’m not a mad fan or a stalker, I swear. Well, maybe I am a fan but still.” You rambled but you forced yourself to stop talking and to breath. Venti is real and he is in front of me. Venti is real and he is in front of me.

Your heart was beating fast.

‘I should say something smart, introduce myself or something.’ You thought to yourself as you composed yourself.

You wanted to at least tell him your name but the words are out faster than you can stop them.

“Wanna grab a drink?”

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #readerinsert #fanfiction #childe x reader #genshin x reader

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pretendingboyfriends · 3 years

Text

A/N: it’s finally finished!! after over a month!!! i’m so sorry this has taken so long but y’all know me, i’m terrible at time management and i’m mentally ill so nothing is ever consistent <3 BUT it’s here now and it’s finished and i hope u love it. thank you to @sunflowers-styles and @friendlyneighborhood-mendes for beta reading and giving me ideas for when i was stuck. i’m nothing without my betas <3

Warnings: explicit language & sexual tension

Word count: 6.5k+

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Your heart is racing in your chest with every lingering moment that passes as you watch Deidre finish getting ready for the day. Her plan is to spend the afternoon with Jeffrey and then the two of you would meet back up and have a movie night (plus Harry, if he’s up for it). And you, well, you have your own plans.

“Do you think this looks good?” She asks, spinning herself around in front of the vanity mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

You glance up from the book in your lap to see that she’s wearing a loose, white spaghetti strap dress that reaches just below her knee, pastel pink bikini peeking from beneath the fabric. You smile, “I think it looks great! What shoes are you wearing?”

She bends down to the floor, quickly grasping a pair of tan, strappy sandals. “These?”

“Yeah,” You nod. “Those are perfect.”

“Okay,” She smiles, leaning down to slide her feet into the sandals and strap them securely onto her feet before she grabs her tote bag from the bed with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll see you later! Meet back here at 5:00?”

You nod in confirmation, giving her a small smile and wave as she nearly skips through the bedroom door and down the hallway. As soon as she’s out of your sight you freeze, waiting for the familiar rumble of Jeffrey’s car to take off down the road with Deidre inside. Once the glorious sound kisses your ears, you’re leaping from the bed, frantically tearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants you’ve been wearing from your body to change into a tank top, loose-fitting jean shorts, and a pair of Doc Martens (bathing suit underneath, of course).

You’re brushing a few coats of mascara onto your eyelashes after taking a record breaking 2 minutes to change into your clothes and shoes when you sense his presence in the doorway.

“You look nice.”

You slide the applicator into the mascara container and screw the lid shut, turning your head to look at Harry as he leans against the doorframe with his hands behind his back. His hair is still slightly damp from his shower, framing his face and shoulders in thick, shiny curls. Your eyes travel south, dropping to his floral, short sleeve button up, unbuttoned partially to expose his inked chest and then flickering down to his skin tight, black jeans and tan chelsea boots. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He smiles in response, dimples sinking into his blushing cheeks. “You ready to go?”

“Yep,” You sigh, grabbing your bag from the floor and walking towards the bedroom door. He allows you to pass him, following closely behind you through the house before tugging the front door open for you and beckoning you outside. The air is warm and humid as you make your way towards Harry’s car, the wind whipping against you gently.

Once you reach the car, Harry quickly beats you to the passenger side to open the door for you, flashing you a gorgeous smile as you slide into the seat. The expensive leather of the seat immediately sticks to your bare legs from the heat and humidity and you huff, lifting your legs to peel them from the material.

Harry slides himself into the driver’s seat, immediately cranking the car and fiddling with the air conditioner knobs to blast cool air into the stuffy, hot vehicle.

“So, where are we going?” You ask once he pulls onto the empty road lined with palm trees.

He keeps his eyes trained to the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on his jean-clad thigh. “I was thinking we could get coffee first and then I could take you to a bookstore I saw on my way in. But only if you’re okay with that,”

You smile to yourself, “I’m more than okay with that.”

A soft blanket of silence falls over both of you as Harry drives and you allow your gaze to wander his figure, from the god-like curve of his jaw to his perfectly chiseled hands. The sparkling glint of his rings in the noon sunlight catches your eye and you tilt your head slightly to get a better look at them. On his left index and middle finger are two silver rings, one with a rectangular, teal gem embedded into it, the other with a line of tiny dancing bears carved into the metal. Then, on the middle finger of his right hand, a lone silver ring with the word “peace” etched directly in the middle. They are simple pieces of jewelry, but enticing nonetheless.

Your mind wanders as your gaze does the same, falling to the curve of his plush, pink lips. It’s been a few days since you’d kissed him on the beach, tumbling into the sand like children, and you’re slightly embarrassed to admit that you haven’t stopped craving his lips since you parted ways that evening. The agreement you had made was to wait until after at least a few dates to kiss again (mainly to keep yourselves as contained as possible) but both of you are finding it increasingly hard as the time goes by. You just can’t seem to stay away from each other.

After a bit of light conversation and a 10 minute drive, you’re finally pulling into the parking lot of a little coffee shop named “Bikini Beans”.

You chuckle as Harry parks the car directly in front of the small building. “Quite the name, huh?”

He breathes a chuckle to himself. “It was the only coffee shop I could find within 30 miles of the beach house.”

You sigh sarcastically, “I guess it will suffice,” Harry shuts off the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition before jogging around to your side of the car to, of course, open the door for you. You smile at him as you step onto the pavement, tugging your bag from the floor of the car and slinging it over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

The two of you step into the quaint coffee shop, your senses immediately overwhelmed by the pungent odor of freshly brewed coffee mixed with a hint of sugary baked goods. Taking a moment to observe your surroundings, you find that the shop is nearly empty, save for the girl sitting in the back corner typing frantically at her laptop keys, brow furrowed, hair up, coffee cup empty. You follow Harry to the register where a young boy stands, waiting for the next customer to approach the counter, which just so happens to be you and Harry.

“Hi, welcome to Bikini Beans, how can I help you!” He smiles, placing his hands on the edge of the register as he looks up at you.

You smile back at him, shaking your head and motioning to Harry. “He can go first. I still need a moment to decide.”

He nods and looks at Harry. He clears his throat, “I’ll just have a small, iced black coffee,” The words roll off his accented tongue like a sugary glaze. “And a blueberry muffin.”

The boy takes a moment to type his order into the register and then looks up again, “Will that be all for you today?”

“That’s all for me, but make sure you include her order with mine.” He specifies, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

You smile to yourself as you peruse the menu, quietly mouthing the names of the different kinds of coffees and treats before deciding on what to get. “I’ll have a small cold brew with almond milk, sweetened with vanilla, please.”

“Is that all?” He quickly types your order into the register before glancing back up at you. You nod and he presses a few more buttons. “Alright, so I’ve got a small, iced black coffee; a blueberry muffin; and a small cold brew with almond milk and vanilla sweetener?” He looks back up at the two of you and both of you nod to confirm. “That’ll be $9.23.”

Harry – having already taken a few bills from his wallet – hands the boy a crisp $10 bill and then promptly shoves another $10 into the tip jar beside the register. The boy smiles and thanks him for his generosity as he gives Harry his change. Without hesitation, Harry drops the remaining coins into the tip jar, thanks the boy, and stands to the side to allow the people behind you to step up to the register and order.

“Trying to impress me?” You smirk, nudging your shoulder against his.

He smiles, “Not if you don’t want me to.”

You chuckle and shake your head as you follow him to the end of the counter where another barista quickly prepares your drinks, sliding Harry’s muffin towards him.

You turn to him,“I’ll go save us a table, okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles, watching you walk off towards the small table by the window, dropping your bag into the seat across from you to save it for him.

Within five minutes, Harry is walking towards you with both your drinks in one hand and the giant mountain of a muffin in the other.

“Was not expecting this muffin to be so big,” He chuckles as he hands you your bag and slides into the seat across from you. “You wanna split it?”

You take a sip of your coffee through the straw, the sudden grumbling of your stomach interrupting your train of thought. You hadn’t realized how hungry you are. “Oh, sure.”

He nods, slowly peeling the paper cupcake holder from the edges of the pastry before attempting to break it in half with his hands. “I guess that’ll do.” He chuckles at himself, dusting the crumbs from his fingers.

The silence that falls between the two of you is filled with nervous glances and flustered smiles as you sip your coffee between every few bites of the muffin. Your hands graze against each other occasionally when both of you reach for the muffin at the same time, causing breathless giggles to emit from the backs of your throats.

After a brief moment of silence, you drop your hand on the table in front of you with your palm facing up. “Give me your hand,”

“Quite demanding there, babe.” He chuckles, taking another sip of his coffee.

You roll your eyes at him, ignoring the flutter in your tummy that’s caused by the casual use of ‘babe’ in regards to you. “Just- I wanna look at your rings, so can you please give me your hand?”

He smiles, placing his large hand into your palm which allows you to lean forward and take a closer look at the rings adorning his long fingers. “Where’d you get them?” You ask as you gently brush your fingers against the cool metal.

“Mm,” He grunts, squinting his eyes in thought for a moment. “A few friends have gifted some to me, but I also bought some myself.”

You nod, humming in acknowledgement. “I would’ve never guessed when we were younger that you’d grow up to be a jewelry guy,”

He chuckles, “And why’s that?”

You drop your hand away from his, leaning back in your chair, “I don’t know. I mean, I thought you were cool, but I didn’t think you were really capable of being this type of cool, you know? I’d always known you as just ‘Harry’, my best friend’s kinda dorky older brother who’s also good at singing.”

“You thought I was cool?”

“Yeah, sorta. You were cool in the sense that you were always so kind and loving towards Deidre, even when you were trying to be annoying. But then you became famous and this whole new level of cool happened that made me kinda sad, if I’m being honest.” He frowns at that, sipping his coffee once more. “I mean, it wasn’t necessarily a bad type of cool, but it just made me realize that you weren’t just my best friend’s older brother anymore. You were Harry Styles, heartthrob of the century, everyone loved you and nearly everyone knew who you were all of the sudden.”

“Do you think I’ve changed a lot?” He asks after a brief pause.

“I thought you did for a while. I’d see tabloids about you every week talking about how much of a ‘lady’s man’ you were and who your newest ‘fling’ was and I didn’t know whether to believe them or not because from my perspective of you, you weren’t like that, but I also hadn’t seen you in quite a long time so I thought that maybe it was possible that you really did change that much.”

He shakes his head. “I hate how they’ve portrayed me. I hate that they’ve made me out to be some bloke who’s only in it for the money and the girls because it’s really not true. I especially hate that you’ve had to see me like that because I don’t ever want you to see me that way.”

You smile to yourself slightly, “Don’t worry, I don’t see you that way. Not anymore, at least.”

“Good,” He sighs, smiling shyly as he takes the last piece of muffin from the plate in between the two of you and pops it into his mouth.

“I do think you’ve got a bit of an attitude problem, though.” You hum sarcastically, watching his expression twist into feigned shock.

“An attitude problem??”

“Mhm,”

“I resent that.” He huffs, pressing back against his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“There it is!” You giggle, tilting your head to the side in a mocking manner.

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, holding back a smile as he stands, snatching his coffee cup from the table along with the plate where the remains of the muffin you’d just shared lie. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got more planned for us.”

The soft jingle of a bell sounds as the two of you step into the small book store wedged between a consignment shop and a beach souvenir shop. The song “Yesterday and Today” by Yes plays quietly in the overhead speakers as the lone employee places new books on the shelves, humming along. She looks up from her place at the shelf and smiles at both of you shyly but doesn’t say a word when you smile back, opting to continue her restocking.

Your eyes flit around the small space that’s cramped with shelves, overflowing with books and you begin to wander aimlessly. Harry follows behind you quietly, watching as your fingers trace the spines of each book you pass.

“Do you read a lot?” He asks as you slide a paperback book from its home on the shelf just slightly above your height.

“I try to,” You hum in response, gazing down at the open book in your hands. “But it’s difficult most of the time.”

He nods, “I understand,” He watches your fingers sift through the delicate pages of the book, the bold, typewriter text of each page, melting into each other to form a jumbled cloud of letters. “What book is that?” He asks, stepping closer to you to get a better look at it.

“The Philosophy of Andy Warhol,” You smile, glancing up at him as you flip the book over to its cover, displaying the iconic red and white soup can design.

His eyebrows raise in surprise, “Andy Warhol? Really? Wasn’t he a terrible person?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, he was the worst, but he’s dead now and I like to think we can separate the art from the artist, don’t you?”

“I guess so...” He nods in response, shrugging slightly. “I’m assuming you’ve read this, then?”

You shake your head, “Not fully, just bits and pieces. I can’t really afford to buy books for pleasure at the moment.”

He frowns to himself at that but doesn’t say anything else, just watches as you place the book back onto its home on the shelf and begin to step further into the depths of bookshelves. Harry doesn’t move from where he’s standing, though, he watches you step further away before he takes the book you had just showed him from the shelf and casually holds it behind his back as he steps closer to where you are.

He follows you around the shop as you slowly and silently observe various different books, occasionally expressing your desire to read them after flipping through each crisp page. And, again, with each book you touch, he takes them from the shelves and collects them in his arms without a single word, hoping and praying that you stay distracted enough to not notice the growing pile of books in his arms.

Finally, the two of you have made your way through the entire store and are now standing near the register as you bury your nose into another book. Harry mumbles something to you about buying a book that he wants and you barely even acknowledge him, too engrossed in the words that flow across the pages. It isn’t until he’s back by your side that you finally lift your head to look at him, finding his dimpled, mischievous smile reflecting back at you.

“Ready to go?” He asks, eyebrows lifting in question.

You look up at him with a smile and a nod, closing the book in your hands and placing it back in its home, completely unaware of the paper bag he’s holding behind him. He leads you out to his car, subtly tossing the bag into the back of his car without you noticing before sliding into the driver’s seat and taking both of you to your next destination.

Eventually, you find yourselves on the beach, sitting comfortably on a blanket Harry provided along with a few containers of food from a local restaurant. There’s a decent amount of people walking around you, yet no one seems to notice Harry. Too caught up in their own vacations to notice the literal celebrity in their midst. You aren’t complaining, though, because after a few girls approached him with a request for a photo and a hug, you’ve started to grow a little jealous. But Harry doesn’t need to know that.

“How far d’you think I’d have to swim until my feet can’t reach the bottom?”

You turn your head to him as you stab your plastic fork into a particularly juicy piece of orange chicken. “Mmm, I’d say about-” You glare out at the people in the water, holding your hand over your eyes to shield them from the sun, “five feet past that guy in the lime green shirt.”

He turns his head to look at where you’re referring to and tilts his head to the side. “I think it’d be a little further than that, I’m pretty tall.”

You shove the piece of chicken into your mouth as you continue to stare out into the water and shrug. “The only way to really find out is if we go out there,”

He turns his face back to yours, “Let’s go, then.”

Immediately you drop your fork onto the blanket, frantically tearing your tank top from your body as you stand and begin to unbutton your shorts. “Race ya.” You breathe through a grunt, kicking your shorts off of your bare feet and legs to reveal your black bikini. He scrambles to his feet at that, nearly ripping his shirt from his body, but you’re already taking off in a sprint towards the water.

Harry is quick to catch up with you after a brief moment of struggling with his jeans to reveal his tiny, yellow swim shorts. He tackles you into the water, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and taking the both of you under in one giant splash.

“Asshole!” You screech through a giggle once you resurface, swatting at his bare chest as he cackles. You turn around with a huff, trudging forward through the water with Harry hot on your tail.

“Hey!” He calls after you, nearly hopping through the water to catch up with you. “Hop on my back, it’ll be easier.”

You smirk, turning to face him as he stands almost waist deep in the water. He crouches down to allow you easier access to wrap your arms around his shoulders and you roll your eyes at him, giving in to his persuasions nonetheless.

Once your legs and arms are wrapped around his waist and shoulders, he stands fully and starts walking forward again. The feeling of your warm breath against his neck causes goosebumps to litter his bare, wet skin and he tries in vain to ignore the feeling of your breasts pressed directly against his back.

“Feet still touching the bottom?” You ask, leaning your chin against his shoulder. It comes out much shakier than you’d intended, breathed directly into his ear and you can feel Harry shutter beneath you.

“Uh- yeah, yeah, but it’s starting to get a bit deeper.”

At this point, you couldn’t care less about the bet you’d made with him, too distracted by the warmth of his muscular back against your embarrassingly sensitive nipples. You can tell he’s partially lost interest as well, judging by the way he grips your thighs tightly as he wades further into the water.

You’ve passed the man in the lime green shirt by now, the water slowly inching up to his shoulders which indicates your possible victory. But suddenly, he takes one more step and the water is at your own shoulders and nearly over Harry’s head completely. He’s sputtering dramatically as he stumbles backwards, finding his footing once again.

“There’s a fuckin’ drop off!” He growls, bringing his hand up to wipe the salty water from his eyes.

You’re giggling uncontrollably as he coughs and grunts, hands leaving your thighs so that he can push his hair out of his face. You slide off of his shoulders and onto the sand beneath the water, cackling to yourself at his grumpy frown.

You smile up at him. “I win.”

He frowns, “Well, that’s not fair! How was I supposed to know there’s a drop off?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You tease, drawing out your words as you turn back to the shore. “I still won!”

He grumbles to himself, turning to follow you. You glance back at him, chuckling at his creased brow and arms crossed over his bare chest with his bottom lip protruding into a pout. “Still don’t think it’s fair,” He huffs in frustration.

“Okay, well, if you really want a way to redeem yourself,” You start, turning back to him and waiting for him to catch up to where you are. “Race me back to shore.”

His frown melts into a devious smile. “Oh, you’re on.”

Immediately, both of you are diving into the water head first, swimming as fast as you can until the water is shallow enough for the two of you to stand and bound through the water that splashes around you. Luckily, Harry’s not much of a swimmer so you’re automatically a few feet ahead of him once you start running and before you know it, you’re crashing into the towel the two of you had laid out earlier, sand kicking up in clouds all around you.

“And she wins once again!!” You cheer, sprawling out on the towel as he trudges towards you in defeat.

It’s nearing 4:00 pm once the two of you return back home, stumbling through the doorway giggling and playfully nudging each other with your elbows.

“I’m gonna go take a shower before Deidre gets home,” You sigh, tossing your bag on the couch and turning to saunter towards the bathroom. Harry catches you by your hand before you can walk away, though, tugging you back to him gently. The suddenness of it nearly knocks the breath out of you as he pulls you into him, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

“I had a really good time today,” He hums, eyes flickering between yours and your lips.

You take a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his lips before speaking. “Me too.”

“S’it alright if I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, taking another small step forward so that your chests are pressed together.

He smiles at that, leaning in and slowly capturing your lips between his own. His other hand finds its place at the base of your spine, holding you against him as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

The kiss is slow and gentle, his lips suckling yours ever so softly with each tilt of his head. Small, labored puffs of air leave your nose as you stand pressed against each other, each kiss building the fire within you.

Finally, Harry pulls away, breathlessly grinning down at you and gently brushing his thumb along the skin of your cheek. You smile back, taking a long, shaky breath in an attempt to regain your thoughts before leaning in once more.

He meets you halfway, tugging you into him again with a surging passion as he presses his lips to yours. He starts walking forward towards the wall, causing you to trip on your own feet a few times before he has you pressed firmly against it, knee wedged between your bare thighs.

“Wanted to kiss you all afternoon,” He breathes between kisses, fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips.

You whimper quietly. “Why didn’t you?”

“Didn’t know if you wanted me to,”

“I always want you to kiss me,”

He pauses at that, pulling away to look at you with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nod, biting back a smile. “Haven’t stopped thinking about the other day on the beach.”

“Me neither.” He huffs, lunging forward to capture your lips again.

He kisses you for just a moment longer, both hands cupping your cheeks gently as your own hands grasp his wrists. Then, he stops, slowly allowing his lips to part from yours and stepping away from you with a smirk.

“Don’t take too long in the shower, I wanna take one too.” He winks.

You watch him walk away after that, acting as if nothing had just happened as he disappears down the hallway. You’re breathlessly leaning against the wall, mustering every bit of strength inside of you to push yourself off of it and walk on wobbly legs to the bathroom.

What the fuck?

It takes nearly everything inside of you not to scratch the proverbial itch of desire whilst your hands wander your naked form, but you only intended on taking a quick shower and you don’t want to raise any suspicions. So, reluctantly, you rinse yourself off beneath the steady stream of hot water before turning off the faucet and stepping out of the shower to perform your skincare routine.

Soon, you’re scurrying into your bedroom with a towel wrapped tightly around your body, calling: “Shower’s open!” to Harry before slamming the door shut.

As you’re pulling an old t-shirt on, you notice a brown paper bag sitting on your bed and you frown, reaching into it. It’s filled with books. A smile brims at the corners of your lips as you take each book from the bag. Every single one of them is a book you’d talked about wanting when the two of you had walked through the bookstore earlier and you can’t help but feel a small tug at your heart at the prospect of Harry actually listening to your ramblings and taking note of all the books you’d talked about wanting.

You tuck the bag away with your things before tugging a pair of sweatpants on and stepping out into the hallway. You find yourself wandering into the kitchen, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a soda from the shelf before swinging it back closed. Just as you crack open the can of soda, the door opens and in waltzes Deidre, tossing her bag to the side.

“Shit- Is the shower open? Really need one,” She says to you, running her fingers through her damp hair with a huff. Her dress is thrown over her figure haphazardly, damp from the wet bathing suit beneath it, indicating that she must’ve just returned from the pool or beach.

“Harry’s in there right now, but I’m sure he’ll be done soon,” You shrug, taking a sip from the can of soda. “Did you have a good time?”

“I had an amazing time,” She smirks as she tugs her sandals off and lets them tumble onto the floor. “I’ll explain everything later, though.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh?”

She wiggles her own eyebrows suggestively, snickering with a devilish smile before disappearing into the hallway. You saunter over to the couch, taking a moment to grab the TV remote before collapsing into the cushions with your legs tucked beneath you.

The steady stream of the shower comes to a nearly screeching halt and 5 minutes pass before the door to the bathroom swings open and out comes Harry, soaking wet with nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

“Y’lookin’ for a movie to watch?” He asks, fingers gliding through his sopping curls as he stands in the doorway.

“Uh-” You swallow the lump in your throat, trying in vain not to let your eyes wander to the loose edge of his towel. “Yeah. Got any requests?”

He shrugs, “I love a good Rom-Com, but I really don’t mind anything.”

You nod, “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”

You watch as he steps into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him quietly and leaving you alone in the living room. Moments later, Deidre bounds out of your shared bedroom and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with a snorted giggle.

Scrolling through Netflix on the TV, you land on the Rom-Com section, taking a moment to look through it. Harry’s door swings open and he walks through, towelling off his long, wet hair as he saunters into the living room. He’s wearing a tight, black t-shirt and a loose pair of shorts that allow his tiger tattoo to peek through ever so slightly.

“Find anything yet?” He asks, wrapping the towel around his neck before plopping himself down on the couch beside you.

You shake your head, glancing in his direction briefly before continuing to click through the limited options. The smell of his shampoo wafts into your direction and immediately you’re overwhelmed with the urge to tackle him on the spot, smothering him with your own mouth against his. His presence brings an animalistic side out of you and it takes everything in you not to give in, especially with the way he’d kissed you only just an hour before.

“You alright?” He interrupts your lustful train of thought, nudging his shoulder against yours.

You clear your throat quietly, shaking your head a little. “Uh- yeah, sorry. Got distracted,”

He smirks to himself, staring straight ahead to hide his tickled expression. “You gonna choose a movie or am I gonna have to take that remote from you and do it myself?”

You whip your head in his direction, gaping at him as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “I’d like to see you try.”

He giggles and lunges forward, grasping for the remote in your hand but you move quickly, yanking your hand back behind you as you scramble to the edge of the couch. You giggle obnoxiously, kicking your feet at him to keep him as far away from you as you can, but his reflexes are just as quick as yours and soon he’s grasping one of your ankles to allow him just enough leverage to tackle you.

“Harry!” You squeal as he shoves his arms beneath you in search of the remote in your hand. He chortles down at you with a devilish smile when his nimble fingers find your wrist. Immediately, you tear your arm away from his fingers, throwing it above your head with the remote grasped tightly between your fingers.

“Fuck- you’re fast,” He grunts, taking a moment to shake his head in defeat. His tone and words prick a familiar nerve within you and you restrain yourself from squeezing your thighs together, bottom lip slipped firmly between your teeth.

“That’s what she said,” You retort, snorting loudly at your own joke. He rolls his eyes, pushing himself up more so that he can reach your hand, but you outsmart him once again, kneeing him in the hip and causing him to topple off of the couch and onto the carpeted floor.

“Fuck’s sake, babe. M’gonna be black and blue by the end of this,” He groans, sitting up as he rubs his elbow with a pout on his lips.

You roll your eyes at him. “Oh, please, I was barely even trying,” You allow yourself to relax back against the couch, scrolling through the movie options once again as Harry lifts himself from the floor but before you can even process what’s happening he’s swiftly yanking the remote from your hand and plopping himself beside you. “Asshole!” You gasp, reaching back for it frantically.

He’s chuckling devilishly under his breath, holding his long arm away from you and moving it every way you reach. “Gonna have to try harder then, I guess,”

You clamber over him, both knees landing on either side of his legs as your fingers grasp the remote over his hand. The compromising position the two of you are in is admittedly the last thing on your mind as you scramble for the remote, but when his free hand falls to your waist, gripping you gently, a breath catches in your throat and you pause. You make eye contact with him, your faces merely inches apart and suddenly the remote doesn’t really matter anymore.

He smiles a little, licking his lips when his eyes flicker to yours. The hand holding the remote falls onto the armrest of the couch, causing yours to fall with it.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just keep staring at my lips?” You mutter, bringing your hand up to the side of his neck.

“Gonna let me have the remote if I do?”

“Fuck the remote.” You grunt before charging forward, lips colliding with his in a searing kiss.

His arms are quick to circle your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as you hold his face between your hands, lips moving together in a symphony of uncoordinated movements. One of your hands slides down to grip his t-shirt, desperate to have him as close as possible and then suddenly, the bathroom door swings open and you’re sent leaping off of Harry, scrambling to the other end of the couch.

Both of you are breathless and flustered as Deidre walks in, whistling to herself and completely oblivious to the way you and Harry are practically shivering at each corner of the couch.

“Did you guys pick a movie yet?”

You clear your throat before sighing shakily. “Uh- no, not yet,”

“Jeez,” she scoffs, “been in the shower for at least 10 minutes what the fuck have you lot been up to?”

Heat crawls along the apples of your cheeks and you glance in Harry’s direction with a panicked look on your face. He’s flushed bright red, giving you a sheepish smile before you turn away again. Luckily, Deidre has wandered into the kitchen making herself a snack of some sort, oblivious to the way you two are looking at each other, flustered and slightly shaken by what she’d interrupted.

“I’m really in the mood to watch The Notebook,” Deidre calls from the kitchen, popping her head through the opening and raising her eyebrows at the two of you in question.

Harry shrugs, “I’m down,”

“Yeah, same,” You agree, clearing your throat awkwardly as you tuck your legs beneath you. Both you and Harry are suppressing sheepish grins, barely glancing at each other out of the corners of your eyes.

“The Notebook it is, then.” He concludes, clicking through the Netflix menu to find it.

When Deidre returns to the living room, she comes bearing a bag of microwave popcorn, a bag of cheetos, and three cans of soda (per Harry’s request). Of course, with your luck, she decides to plop herself between the two of you, leaving you and Harry to give each other subtle looks of distaste from across the couch. And, once the movie starts, you’re forced to act as if you hadn’t just been making out with your best friend’s older brother right on this very couch.

The movie goes by fast since it’s nearly your 4th time watching it, and for the entire 2 hour film you’re forced to sit across the length of the couch from Harry when all you want to do is cuddle into his side. A few spare glances are shared throughout the time and judging by the way his eyebrows lift, his feelings are similar to yours. Nevertheless, you persevere through the movie until the credits are rolling and tears are streaming down your face.

“You guys are seriously crying? I know you’ve both seen this movie more than once,” Deidre scoffs at both you and Harry as she turns the TV off.

“How are you not crying?” You sniffle, wiping the moisture from underneath your eyes with your hands. You glance in Harry’s direction to see the tears welling up in his eyes as he stares at her in disgust.

She looks at him and rolls her eyes. “Oh, fuck off, you’re both just big babies,” She stands from the couch, yanking the empty popcorn bag from the coffee table in front of the couch, huffing, “I’m going to bed. You two are ridiculous.”

You watch as she walks to the kitchen, chuckling to herself before you turn back to Harry who’s laughing through his own tears.

“We are pretty pathetic,” He snickers, pushing his hair out of his face and shaking his head.

“No,” You huff. “We just aren’t heartless like she is.” You stand from the couch, crossing your arms over your chest and sauntering down the hallway to your bedroom.

You find yourself getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth and performing your nightly routines just as you would every night. This time, however, the only thing on your mind is Harry. The way his hands held you so gently, lips drawing kiss after kiss from your own effortlessly as if he’d memorized every little thing that makes you shiver. The way he says your name when he speaks to you and maintains eye contact throughout every conversation, making it apparent to you that he’s listening to every word that leaves your lips. He actually cares about what you’re telling him and he speaks to you in such an attentive, selfless way. He makes you feel like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted to talk to. And, as much as you haven’t wanted to admit it to yourself, you’re beginning to think that this is more than just a crush.

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gamerwoo · 3 years

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Six)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, the smallest bit of fluff just bc hansol’s optimistic and a sweetheart

Word count: 2,420

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

a/n: things in bold are in english. also this takes place the same night as the last part but it explains where hansol was when minghao couldn’t find him, and what happened to his mate after she woke up. AND it does talk about rika and baekhyun and i used to have a series for them called amend buuuut i also took that down to redo it lmao so there’s not really much backstory on them other than what i have for star crossed so if you’re confused, that’s ok lmao

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Hansol sat on the lawn as he usually did, staring up at the stars. He always wondered if you were looking at the stars, too. He wondered if you even liked looking stars, or what you preferred looking at instead. Did you like watching the clouds or animals in the forest? Did you like watching snow fall in the winter or rain fall in the summer? Did you still find staring at the fire comforting and pleasing even though you could easily form it effortlessly at your fingertips?

You were all Hansol thought about, and truthfully, he waited up every night for you. He never once felt you were in danger, and he knew he could find you quickly if there was danger. But for now, he was giving you space. He was just hoping you’d come back to him. If you did, he’d go see that doctor your pack recommended. If not, then he’d already be dead before the pain could get any worse – unless the silver managed to kill him first, in which case, it wouldn’t really matter anyway.

Hansol heard the front door open and shut before he heard somebody walking in the grass. He could smell Seokmin’s scent, so he knew it was him coming over.

“I’m about to go to bed, and everyone else is already in their rooms,” he told the younger boy. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”

“Actually,” Hansol spoke up, peeling his gaze away from the night sky to look at Seokmin, “I’ve been thinking...”

“About what?” Seokmin wondered as he sat down beside his brother.

“It’s been about a week since everything,” he began, staring at the grass between the two of them, “so I think it’s safe to go look back at the old house.”

Seokmin didn’t understand why Hansol would feel any need going back there. No doubt everything would be burned to the ground. Any belongings they had were what was left in their house, or what was put there by your pack in preparation for them to move in.

“Look for what?” he asked.

Hansol’s golden eyes practically sparkled when he looked up at Seokmin, “Something of Jiung’s or Chanseong’s. I want to give it to _____.”

“When?” Seokmin scoffed. “I don’t mean to sound mean, Sol, but do you even know if she’ll come back to you?”

“I’d go leave it at the house,” he shrugged. “I won’t go see her if she doesn’t want me to, so I’d just leave it there and go.”

“What are you expecting to find, exactly? You know there won’t be any bodies.”

“There might be. Or maybe there’s something small that didn’t get completely burned. I don’t know.”

As Hansol pushed himself off of the ground, Seokmin looked up at him, “Are you leaving right now?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Do you wanna come help me?”

Seokmin sighed but got up as well, “Somebody has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Okay, Mr. Thunder-and-Lightning,” Hansol chuckled as the two brothers walked closer to the edge of their property and into the woods, “I think you are the trouble.”

“Hey, I helped!” Seokmin insisted.

“Yeah, helped Jooyeon have a heart attack,” Hansol laughed as the two disappeared into the thick brush.

You woke from your nightmare with tears streaming down your face. You’d been doing this a lot lately: crying so hard you’d wake yourself up. But this time, it was better that you woke up in the middle of the night. It was the perfect time to slip out unnoticed.

Ever since that first day after Jiung died, you felt the alpha pull to Hanbin. It was supposed to be you, but it never was. You tried to pretend, but nothing changed. You were never fit to be an alpha like Jiung, but you knew Hanbin would do a good job to protect the others.

Before you left, you got out a pen and some paper and wrote a quick note to Rin. You knew this would have the biggest impact on her, but you couldn’t stay here. If you weren’t an alpha like you were supposed to be, what was the point? It was like you didn’t belong here, but you definitely knew you didn’t belong with Seungcheol’s pack – not after you denied Hansol. To be truthful, you didn’t even really feel the tie to the pack anymore, not after the two days spent with Hansol. So you were going to just…go. You didn’t know what you’d do, but you’d either figure it out eventually or you’d die – whichever came first.

But you also knew Rin would have her mate soon enough considering she often went out and followed him around. Sure, he didn’t know since Rin kept herself invisible, but just knowing where her mate was and knowing he was doing okay was what you assumed would help her cope. It was why she was hidden the entire time his pack was here: she didn’t want her mate to see her and imprint on her – not until she learned how to speak to him, at least. So you hoped she’d be okay after you left, and that she’d learn Korean to finally go introduce herself to him. He seemed like a nice enough guy, anyway. He’d definitely help her get better and would make sure she was happy.

Rin,

When you read this, I’ll be gone. I don’t know where I’m going, but please don’t look for me. I know you’ll think I betrayed you by leaving, and I won’t try to make any excuses for myself. You were alone when Jiung and Chanseong you here, and all you had was us to rely on. I always promised to stick beside you, and I’m completely breaking that promise. I know you’ll hate me, and I deserve it. But I want you to know I still love you, and I hope you’ll do okay. And try not to stress so much – your mate will love you no matter what.

Please take care of yourself.

-_____

You left the note on your pillow before grabbing Jiung’s sweater that you left laying over the back of your chair, tugging it over your head, and going to the window. You pushed the window open before leaping out and landing softly on your feet before you ran into the woods, leaving behind your home, and the pack you used to consider family.

The wolves could already smell that burnt smell from the house, but they continued to run in their wolf forms until they were closer. They didn’t shift back until they reached the clearing where their house used to stand. But now, everything was reduced to rubble and ash.

“Shit…” Seokmin mumbled, looking around the plot of land they used to call home.

A place that once held bright and lively memories now looked dark and dead. They couldn’t believe this was the same place they used to run around and play. They couldn’t believe a large, warm house once stood here. On the other hand, they couldn’t believe that said house was now destroyed. It was all just a bunch of ash and useless pieces of debris.

“I’m gonna sift through some of this and see if there’s anything we can take back,” Seokmin said, gesturing toward the largest pile of dark ash.

Hansol just went over to where he last remembered seeing Jiung, all but ignoring Seokmin. There were small piles of ash around the house, which must’ve been all the dead or severely injured that they couldn’t save. There were even some detached body parts mixed in, but thankfully that stench was covered by the smell of the burned house that attacked his nose.

He reached the general area and got down on his bare knees, sifting through the ashes. He felt bad disturbing anything that might be a body, but he was determined to find something – anything – to make you feel like you could have even a little bit of closure. Hansol just wanted you to be happy.

Something suddenly caught his eye. It was something gold that shone in the moonlight above, which was what made him notice it. He brushed away some of the ash before picking up some sort of pendant on a thin gold chain. It was a plain gold circle, no bigger than a small coin, and it had Jiung’s first initial and your first initial engraved on it with a dot in between the two letters. Jiung and _____.

Hansol let the chain dangle from his teeth – he obviously didn’t have pockets, and that’s how he’d have to carry it in wolf form anyway – before searching through the rest in case there was anything else. He found a ring that had a date engraved on it as well. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he figured he should bring it just in case.

“Hansol!” Seokmin called as he rushed over with a few books in his arms. “I found a photo album, one of Danbi’s books, and a few picture frames that made it out.”

“Good job,” the younger wolf smiled. “Let’s get back to the house before sunrise, yeah?”

So the two shifted before Seokmin collected the small stack of things in his mouth, and the two raced off to their new home, happy with the small things they were able to find.

Hansol and Seokmin could hear their names being called before they even got close to home. They picked up their pace, Hansol howling to let them know they were nearby and safe.

When they finally made it back to the house, almost all the wolves were outside, waiting for the pair to return. Seokmin immediately dropped what he had in his mouth, but Hansol kept the ring and the necklace balanced carefully between his teeth.

Jihoon looked down at the ground, scanning over the things Seokmin brought before looking at the two wolves, “Did– Did you two go back to the house?! Are you kidding me?! You both could’ve gotten killed!”

Seokmin whined but Hansol didn’t regret it. He got what he was looking for.

“Jia’s been looking for you,” Seungcheol told Hansol.

The boy carefully placed the jewelry in the grass before shifting and collecting his two items, “Why?”

The eldest alpha sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, “_____ ran away from her pack.”

Hansol paused like he was trying to see if his instincts were about to suddenly warn him about his mate, but when nothing happened, he shrugged, “She’s okay.”

“What?” Soonyoung gasped. “You’re not even gonna go check on her?”

“No, she wants her space,” he insisted. “If something bad happens, then I’ll go find her, but until then, me smothering her won’t help.”

Junhui pointed at the gold pieces of jewelry that the younger wolf held, “What’re those?”

“They’re gifts,” he replied, smiling softly to himself as he looked down at the jewelry in the palm of his hand, “for _____.”

Maybe Rika was right. Maybe Baekhyun was the worst. Maybe you should’ve listened to the tiny mate whenever she complained about him. But you always found Baekhyun pretty enjoyable since he had about the same snarky attitude as Rin. But now, you were deciding to reconsider that.

Had he not had been sniffing around your property, you wouldn’t have been caught. Had he not been having issues with not only his mate -- if you could call her that -- and his pack, he wouldn’t have stopped you.

Had Chanyeol not been worried when he realized his brother was missing and gone out to find him, you would’ve gotten away.

“Can’t burn me if I burn too, _____,” Chanyeol sang as he forcefully carried you to their house.

But you had stressed that you didn’t want anyone knowing about this. Baekhyun couldn’t tell Rika, and neither of them could snitch on you to their pack. And considering the mental state they found you in, even Baekhyun knew not to double-cross you even though he just replied with, “I’ll think about it”.

Sneaking you inside was easy because the pack was asleep. So Chanyeol brought you up to Baekhyun’s room before setting you on the bed while Baekhyun shut the door. Then he turned to look at you, quirking an eyebrow while Chanyeol just studied you with furrowed brows.

“So...what happened?” Baekhyun quizzed.

He knew what happened to your alpha already. Their pack was friends with yours, and there was also the tie to Rika. But he didn’t understand what caused you to suddenly snap.

“I don’t have to tell you,” you told him, your arms crossed over your chest.

He shrugged, “Fair. But if you’re missing, I’m sure your pack will go looking for you when they realize, and then they’ll tell us what’s going on. And Rika will love me for saving her sister from a mental break.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m not going back.”

“You’re not going to do something stupid, either,” Chanyeol stated.

“I wasn’t!” you insisted. “I was just running away, okay?”

Baekhyun bit the inside of his cheek. He figured you must’ve realized that wasn’t the pack you belonged in anymore. They knew Hanbin was the alpha when they saw him last, sensing the authority radiating off of him and the way the pack acted around him. It was obvious.

But they didn’t know why you weren’t the alpha. So where did you belong?

“Is it because--”

“Where’re you gonna go?” Baekhyun cut off Chanyeol before he could ask a stupid question.

You just shrugged, “I don’t know. I can take care of myself, though.”

While Baekhyun would’ve rather just had you stay with them, he knew Junmyeon especially would ask a lot of question. And it was obvious you didn’t want to be bothered with that. Not only that, but he’d contact Hanbin.

Finally, he let out a sigh and grabbed your upper arm, “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Go where?” you asked.

He brought you to his bedroom door, whispering, “I’m gonna stay at the hut with you so I can know you’re safe, but so you’ll be away from everybody.”

You were surprised Baekhyun was doing something to help you, but you didn’t say anything else to him until you were out of the house and a good distance away.

“Won’t your pack wonder where you went?” you pointed out.

He just shrugged, “Eh, probably not.”

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

blanching | helnik

Six of Crows - A Helnik Story, angst, slight fluff requested by @musicallisto

tw: a suggestive comment, grief, spoilers for crooked kingdom

word count: 1.5k

prompt: “i’m here for you. i have your back.”

A/N: y’know, this turned out pretty decent, but ohmygod... you guys should have seen the scene that was painted in my head... it would have made you sob.

Summary: Fear and uncertainty didn’t belong here. Not in Novyi Zem. Not with Matthias.

Novyi Zem was beautiful. In the morning, the sun rose steadily, filtering through slatted blinds and spilling across the floor, warming the shadows until they disappeared from view. In the mid-afternoon, its bustling cities were full of life - laughter seemingly reverberating from the very ground, the smell of food wafting through the clear air, the bright, sparkling ocean bringing in a soft breeze that ruffled skirts and jackets. In the evening, its farmlands hummed with the music of crickets, lush greens and dying yellows stretching onto infinity. Colm Fahey lived in Cofton, with rows and rows of jurda plants, all of them vibrantly orange, flowering under the warm summer sun.

Once, maybe a lifetime ago, Colm Fahey told Nina and the rest of the crows that his home was open to them, should they need it. Jesper had laughed as though the offer were a joke without a punchline, and Kaz had assured Mr. Fahey that they would never be passing by.

Nina was the one to laugh, now.

Novyi Zem was one stop on a trip to somewhere much warmer, and when they were running low on coin, Wylan pointed out that Jesper's family home wasn't far from them. Kaz said they would stop for only a day or two. How long had they been there, now? Two weeks? Maybe longer?

Nina was pleased with the arrangement. As long as there was enough flour for waffles and enough sun for warmth, she could gladly stay in Novyi Zem forever.

The sounds of the farm were a charming cacophony that rooted Nina to this reality - to this beautiful, warm world. Nina lay in the fields, her hair haloing outward, her palms digging into the fresh grass. She closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face, its golden and amber hues playing against the dark of her eyelids. The sun was a brilliant ball of light, kissing Nina's skin and warming her from the outside in - penetrating the bone. Never had she known warmth such as this.

In the Heartrender rooms of the Little Palace, Nina was taught the secrets of the body and the science of bending it to your will. She learned everything - from releasing chemicals in the brain for good spirits to inducing heart attacks that could prove fatal, given a particular turn of the wrist. Nina mastered how to increase blood flow and quicken the heartbeat, and ever since, she kept herself warm.

Nina had only ever been cold twice in her life, in the orphanage where she grew up and on a boat lost in a tempest. Warmth was a luxury that a Grisha Heartrender could afford, and Nina swore that she would never be cold again. Not after the orphanage. Not after the storm. Not after...

Novyi Zem was beautiful, but mostly, it was warm.

"What are you doing?" Matthias' voice called out - rich, full of teasing and mirth. She could hear the steady beat of his heart as he came closer, walking toward her from the barn, where Colm kept his harvesting tools.

Nina didn't have to open her eyes to know he was smiling. "Enjoying the sun," she replied.

Matthias scoffed, but he laid down next to her all the same.

"Do you not do that in Fjerda, drüskelle?" Nina opened her eyes and shot him a teasing glance. His cheeks were a ruddy pink, full of life and love. For a moment, Nina didn't want to let go. She shifted onto her side, but her eyes never left him. "Do you just sit around all day and hope the temperature drops below zero?"

Matthias rolled his eyes. Hips lips parted softly. "We are not in Fjerda."

"Thank the Saints for that. I've had enough ice to last a lifetime."

Matthias chuckled, and Nina bit her lip to stop a giddy grin from crossing her face. The sun beat down on them, warm and full of zest. Nina moved to grab his hand but hesitated, pausing halfway in the space between. Matthias didn't notice - his eyes were on the sky, far away from her.

"I would like to go back, someday." And the wind came by at the mention of Fjerda, as though he were summoning it all on his own. It made the jurda sway, and the breeze seemed to carry a message.

"Take root... follow the water north..."

Nina grabbed Matthias' strong hand; it was warm. She squeezed it tightly, feeling the steady beat of his heart; warm, alive.

"We'll go," Nina said, her smile smaller than before. Her voice cracked, and something was breaking in her chest because of it - something raw and heaving that didn't belong in Novyi Zem. Not with Colm Fahey - so kind as to invite everyone over to stay. Not with a home with fields of jurda and always enough flour to make waffles. Not the with this sun that shined down on them, begging them to stay. Not with the warmth and the love and the life.

"You will come with me?"

Nina blinked.

"And let you go alone? You'd never make it." And Matthias chuckled again, an exasperated breath of delight. His blue eyes were sparkling with the light of the sun. She let go of him slowly, their hands still brushing. He was here - he always would be. Nina taunted him more. "Have you ever had to charm a barkeep for a meal?"

"No. But I would work for one."

"Oh, so you would sell your body, then?"

Matthias' expression turned scandalous for a heartbeat. He turned to her incredulously, but when he saw the wide smile that stretched over Nina's face, he heaved a dry laugh. Nina raised her eyebrows and started to chuckle.

"You—" but he was laughing too hard to finish, his breathy chuckles turning into bursts of rich laughter, a sound deep in his chest, warming Nina to the bone. She grinned with him, peals of laughter ripping through her until her sides hurt from the pure joy it all, the brightness of their love, all-encompassing and fading into the air. Nina's heart ached - it was too full.

She poked Matthias' sides, and his laughter intensified. Eventually, he captured her hands in his and held them close to his chest, still laughing, all the while. Their love was warm and radiant, but his eyes were an icy, frozen blue - the tundra from which he came. Nina stared into them deeply, wishing to memorize the look in his eyes. A beautiful, pale blue. Steady like the ice. Glassy...

Tears pricked Nina's eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She was crying.

For a moment, she wondered if it was from the laughter at all.

"We'll go together," Matthias affirmed, his voice no longer laughing, his expression turning back into that sculpted, strong sense of calm. He kissed her fingers before letting them go, reaching up to wipe the tears that glistened on her cheeks.

"Always?" Nina's voice shook, an uncharacteristic uncertainty in her tone. Her hands were shaking, but she couldn't understand why. Was it fear?

No.

No. Fear didn't belong here. Not in Novyi Zem. Not with Matthias.

Matthias had an easy smile on his face. He leaned back in the richly colored grass and sighed, content. "Are you planning on holding me hostage if I do not say yes?"

"If I say yes, will you stay?"

Matthias smiled and closed his eyes; he breathed deeply like he couldn't get enough air in his lungs. For a moment, Nina was in Ketterdam, crying over the dark cobblestones, holding Matthias in her arms. He was there, with her, and he was pale... so pale...

No.

"Matthias?"

He was smiling like some kind of victorious Saint, the sunlight woven into his hair. He didn't open his eyes.

"Helvar."

A jurda plant broke as though snapped by a nonexistent breeze. It fell on Matthias' chest, but its color was red, not that vibrant, wholesome orange. A red tulip from the Van Eck gardens - not from Novyi Zem. Not from here.

"Drüskelle!"

Matthias' eyes snapped open. He had just been dozing.

"Nina?"

They were on the dirty streets of Ketterdam. The world was chaos - full of plague alarms and hellfire - and Nina was slipping into her grief, drowning in mourning, floundering in this power that couldn't save him. She was holding onto him, again, but his body was already claimed by death; cold. So, so cold.

"Come back," Nina sobbed.

“I’m here for you, Nina. I'll always have your back.” But his voice was no longer his, just an echo of someone who once was, just the cruel imaginings of her mind, dark and hollow - grieving, still.

"Come back to me, then. Don't leave me, Matthias. Please."

"I have been made to protect you. Even in death, I will find a way."

Nina took in a shuddering breath, and all around her, the beauty of Novyi Zem crumbled. Her world - her beautiful, warm world - was fading, blanching into nothing and burning into pale, grey ash. The wind was whipping around her, and the Fjerdan ice was unforgivingly claiming her.

She was sitting on the shore with tears crystallized on her eyelashes. The sun had long since dipped over the horizon, and she was cold. So, so cold.

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @catsbooksandmusic // message me if you want to be added!

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valberryy · 3 years

Text

efficacy. — zhongli

hi!! this started out as an oc fic, but i thought i'd convert it to a reader insert!! i tried to change some of the more "explicit" oc info, so hopefully it's fine now!

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injury/death, contemplations of/vaguely attempted murder, slight swearing. if these topics are sensitive to you, i'd recommend clicking away.

[Name]'s life would be nothing without order. They found a certain comfort in routines—working at the bookshop with Jifang in the afternoons, working for their less-than-legal clients once night fell. There was an odd kind of safety they found in it, in completed contracts and crossed-out bounties on a board: as they wiped the blood off their blade at sunrise, they found themself glad they no longer lived at the whims of ice, and snow, and migrating deer.

Tonight was odd, though.

A dagger twirled deftly between their fingers, and [Name] raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the informant sitting before them. A mask and hood alike obscured his face, and he seemed almost to hesitate slightly beneath their burning gaze—a newbie, then, or a fool.

"So?" they asked, their voice like a whip-crack in the silence. "Don't waste my time."

"Apologies," he said, and [Name] had to resist the urge to scoff. At another raised eyebrow the informant dug through his things and passed them an envelope.

Gingerly, they tore it open. "...Wangsheng?" they muttered to themself, before glancing back up. "I trust you have the right compensation?"

A stiff, "Of course," was their only response.

The knife between [Name]'s fingers stilled, before it became embedded in the cheap wood next to their now-client's head.

They stood, gave an almost-mocking flourish of a bow, and walked off without another word.

ii.

[Name] did not glance up from the shelf they were restocking when the footsteps of another customer coming up the stairs came into earshot, only saying a gruff, "Welcome," as they grew closer.

Their only response was a content hum, and they resisted the urge to sigh in relief that this particular patron wasn't a chatterbox.

The minutes trickled by in comfortable silence, as the man—for he was a man, [Name] learned, as soon as they looked up and towards his direction—browsed through their selection. The only sounds to be heard were the blowing of the breeze and the idle chatter of people walking past.

"What a fine collection you have," he said, and turned to face the counter they were seated behind. At the sight of his face they were thrust back into two nights ago—an unpleasant evening in a dingy old house, an envelope in one hand and a cheap knife in the other.

Not now, they thought to themself. Not now, when the blood can seep into the floorboards. The smell will hang for days.

"Thank you," they elected to say in reply. "...Will you be buying?"

He nodded, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Indeed. The entire stock, actually."

[Name] faltered. "The entire…?" They coughed into a fist, regaining their composure and leaning forward on the counter. "That's going to cost you, sir."

They could almost see the excited sparkles around him as he opened his mouth to speak again, and whatever thoughts they had on how elegant and refined he seemed were thrown out to sea.

"Yes, of course," he began, "there truly is no treasure greater than knowledge, after all—there is a subtle nuance to the art to capturing a moment in time so vividly using just words alone…"

As he continued to ramble, [Name] rested their chin on their palm. The daggers concealed beneath their clothes were cool and heavy on their skin—a constant reminder, a subtle threat.

When his voice trailed off they gave a small, polite smile, standing upright again. "If you have the Mora, there should be nothing stopping you, sir."

The faraway, almost dreamy look in his eyes grew lucid at the mention of Mora. "Ah, of course. Mora," he said, and started patting his pockets searching for his wallet.

When neither of them heard the telltale clinking of coins, they glanced at each other almost exasperatedly.

"My deepest apologies—"

"...No, it's okay—"

The knife still burned against their skin, but they brushed it aside for a moment to grab an unwrapped copy of a book under the desk. They held it out to him, their face blank but the faintest, faintest hints of amusement dancing in their eyes.

He was…interesting. Dead men can rarely boast as much.

"Take it," they said, simply.

His eyes seemed to widen in pleasant surprise. "Are you certain?" he asked, and at [Name]'s casual shrug in the affirmative he gingerly took it from their hands.

"Thank you kindly," he said, raising the package in the air and inspecting it. "I'll have to repay you, for this."

They looked at him again, and thought of the envelope from the other night, thought of how they could almost feel his pulse as their fingers brushed just seconds prior.

"I'll hold you to it, then, sir," they elected to say.

Not now, not now, not now.

iii.

On his lips played a gentle smile that [Name] couldn't help but to distrust.

"There's a restaurant I believe you'd like," he had said. "Allow me to treat you for lunch, as thanks."

Their head had thus begun to swim with backup plans and what-ifs. Did he know? Was this some elaborate ruse to poison them? Surely not, right? They had been so careful up until now, too…

They blinked away their initial surprise and canted their head to the side. "Where?"

At that he went off onto another tangent, just as long as the ramble he had gone on a few days prior. [Name] found themself zoning out, glancing at where they knew his jugular was beneath his collar—or perhaps poison during their impromptu outing would fare better?

No, they scolded themself, there would be witnesses at a restaurant.

"...Don't worry, of course, I'll be sure to bring the Mora this time around," he said with a velvety laugh, and [Name] suddenly found themself back in the present.

They leaned forward on the bookstore counter, an eyebrow raised. "I don't even know your name, Mister Philanthropist."

Another smile graced his features, then—apologetic this time, and he outstretched a hand for them to shake. "My apologies," he said. "I am Zhongli, consultant for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor."

Gingerly, they took his hand in turn. They could feel the rhythmic beat-beat-beat of his pulse under their fingers.

Soon, they thought.

"Call me [Name]," they said, and forced themself to smile.

A few days later, it just so happened that both of their schedules were free.

"Would you still be willing to indulge me?" Zhongli asked—he had been visiting more often lately, and it just so happened that many of his visits happened to be on the days [Name] was there, as well. Jifang seemed curious, and honestly they were as well—did he enjoy their company? Was there something about their short, curt responses that didn't turn him away?

Or maybe he was planning something, too?

Nevertheless, despite their raging paranoia, it wasn't like they were in much of a position to complain. Jifang seemed content at their new, distinguished guest, and [Name] took it as an opportunity to learn more about him for the time being.

"...If you so wish," they said, plucking the book he was holding out of his hands to wrap it for him.

"Only if you do, my friend." Damn him and his deflection. "But it is my firm belief that the generous receive what is due to them, in time."

They hummed idly as they thumbed through the book he had chosen—something or other about the natural beauty of Inazuma—and then glanced back up at him.

And that was how they found themself here, they supposed.

Their table was relatively silent compared to some others, but it was by no means uncomfortable or awkward. With the idle chatter of other people and the clear sky above as a backdrop, the two dined in comforting silence—only the clinking of ceramic against each other to be heard, and to [Name]'s surprise, no traces of poison to be found whatsoever.

As the sun began to dip down the horizon, and all their food had been finished and the bill paid, the two found themselves taking a stroll down by the docks. Zhongli's gaze was trained ahead, while [Name]'s flitted about cautiously.

"Forgive me if I'm prying, however…" he began, "...But you're not a native, are you, my friend?"

A jolt, then, a bolt of white-hot fear running through their limbs. Did he know? Did they give themself away?

"I'm not," they said. "I was born abroad."

A satisfied hum was their response, and when they turned to glance at him, they found the smallest of smiles on his face.

"It's getting late," Zhongli said. "Thank you for today. I'd like to do this again, with you."

[Name] took pause at that. They thought once again of the envelope hidden under their drawers, and the knives hidden under their clothes.

They thought about the way Zhongli rambled on about whatever tale it was the storyteller across the street had spun—how "that indeed is one interpretation of it, but in the original text, the author actually meant to imply that…"

There was a pang of what almost felt like guilt in their chest, at that.

"...And I, you," they said, finally, "...my friend."

iv.

Perhaps stumbling into your supposed assassination target's home half-bloody with an arrow sticking out of your side was not the brightest idea, but in [Name]'s defense were two things: first of all, they had no fucking clue it was Zhongli's in the first place, and secondly, they couldn't exactly keep running from their angry former client with an arrow sticking out of their side.

And thus whatever levels of discretion they normally would have had were thrown out the window as they climbed into Zhongli's in the dead of night, and probably knocked something over in the process (if the new bruises were anything to go by).

(To be fair, they had been calling each other friends for a while now. Is this what friends did? [Name] couldn't be sure—their shady friends weren't exactly the best examples, after all.)

They had just sat up and groaned in pain when Zhongli came in, alarmed first at the noise and then at their sorry state.

"...Sorry," they muttered through gritted teeth. "Thought the place was empty—ow, shit! I can—I can do it mysel—"

"Nonsense," he said, his voice and hands firmer than they had noticed before. "...I still haven't repaid you for your favour to me, after all."

They stopped for a moment, at that. "...I thought the lunch was repayment?"

Somehow, Zhongli found it in himself to laugh, albeit tensely. From where they were sitting, they could see his face a lot more clearly than they had before—the tenseness in his brow, the flecks of gold in his amber irises, the way his nose crinkled at the density of the smell of blood.

"No," he replied, "that was a thank you."

They hummed, before hissing in pain again. "Pull the other way; the arrowhead went in at an angle—"

"Ah, yes, my mistake…"

[Name] continued, "I suppose this is your repayment, then?"

They only barely hid their surprise when he shook his head again.

"I'm doing this because I want to, [Name]."

(Somehow, they liked their name better when hearing it from him. Was it the timbre of his voice? Was it the appeal of hearing your name from a man who was supposed to be long-dead?)

"...I see."

As he sealed the last of the bandages and allowed them to adjust their clothes, he helped them over to what they assumed was a guest room, of sorts. He helped them to take a seat on shaky legs, and placed a firm, almost comforting hand on their shoulder.

"Promise me you'll be more careful, my friend."

They glanced away, their face oddly warm. Wasn't blood loss supposed to do the opposite? "I can't guarantee that, Zhongli."

He followed their gaze over to the floor, and then glanced back at them. "If not that, then I'd at least ask you to…rely on me more," he said, and something about the sincerity in his voice struck them as odd.

They almost wanted to burn that envelope in their drawers when they went home.

[Name] glanced back up at him, forcing themself to face his questioning gaze.

"...I'll try."

But only for you.

+1.

In [Name]'s life, there exists a line they do not dare themself to cross. On one side stands sweet Jifang from the bookshop, the tenacious Traveller and their friends, and the ghosts of their loved ones from Inazuma; and on the other stands themself and their other shadowy benefactors.

The first to tread the line between the two was Zhongli—who, despite the bounty on his head, still managed to maneuvre his way into them somehow being able to call him their friend.

Honestly. The Seven damn him and his stupid charisma, and his stupid voice, and his stupid encyclopedic knowledge of silk flowers.

When [Name] woke up, they were not in their home.

Through their shock they failed to register the bandages wound around their torso, and bit back a yelp of pain as the wound threatened to reopen. In the dark they could see their overwear folded neatly on the bed next to them, and Zhongli asleep, slumped over in a chair.

Suddenly, they were acutely aware of the old bone knife under their clothes—their only souvenir from home, unstained by blood for years, and years, and years.

Would Zhongli be its first, then?

Quietly they stood and dug through their folded clothes until they felt it—the uneven blade, the worn-down grooves near the hilt. They skulked their way over to where he slept, and tried to ignore how painfully peaceful his slow, even breaths were.

His eyes fluttered open just as they pressed the blade to his throat. He seemed too calm, though, not even a twitch of his hands or a hitch in his breath to give away any surprise at all. All he did was place a loose grip on their wrist—a stark contrast to their white-knuckled, shaking hand—and ask,

"What are you doing, [Name]?"

They grit their teeth. "...I'm sorry," they said, "but I have a contract to complete."

Something in Zhongli's eyes softened at that. This was his domain, they realised—contracts, and contingencies, and wordplay.

His grip on their wrist tightened, ever so slightly, and he traced his free hand over their clenched jaw. "But so do we," he replied. "I've still never paid you back, after all."

There was a pause, then—a long, pregnant silence.

"May I kiss you?" Zhongli asked, his voice like a whip-crack in the space between them. [Name] said nothing, but the crease between their brows deepened further.

The dagger embedding itself into the floor and the soft, firm press of their lips against his was enough of an answer.

#genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact oneshot #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #too many thoughts!!!!! not enough braincells #i ammm just . barking #hoo #bee writes

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