#she’s just a cute mountain town girl with a dozen looks

[iddstar]

Different looks

[cmdrfupa]

Family Day

  You’ve turned a house into a home and a home into a sanctuary for Choso. He never thought he’d be given the gift of parenthood or love, so he wants to say thank you on an important anniversary.

Sfw, cute Papa Choso x reader. Fluffy, cutesy, teeth-aching sweetness. Reader called Mama but mostly gn.

a/n: I’ve been watching turtles go into the ocean after hatching, and now I’m here. Idk how I got here but we are here so let’s smile about it 😭

Weekends were meant to rejuvenate and catch up on the hobbies you neglect during the week. Waking up just in time for brunch and pajamas all day until time to get out of the enclosure.

Weekends for Choso were meant to play battle ninja princess and make pasta because his daughters wanted it for literally any meal when you weren’t around to say otherwise. He cherished the busy days as much as the calm ones. Running across town to toy stores and the bakery was his rejuvenation today.

“Mama would want the sprinkles!”

“Yea! Sprinkles! With the cereal, too, papa!”

“Make it five!”

With an apologetic expression to the cashier on his face, Choso took his wallet out of his fanny pack while using his free hand to massage his energetic children's heads gently.

“I’m sorry. Would you please give me two of each specialty donut and a dozen matcha macarons? Oh! And if possible, one of your full-sized ube mango tarts?” The twins exchanged "thank yous" to the cashier as Choso picked up the boxes, placing them in the stroller's attached storage bag before heading home.

It wasn’t a lengthy walk home. The weather, however, proved pleasant enough to go a longer route. Early summer was always more forgiving. The blossoming trees shadowed the ground, reprieve from the hint of heat. A soft breeze carried the delicate fragrance of blossoms and mowed lawns that lingered as Choso glanced in both directions before joining the group on the crosswalk.

“Papa. What’s a tart?”

“It’s like a pie but with less crust and more tasty filling like berries or custard.” Choso focused on the pathway ahead while answering.

“Who’s gonna eat the obey tart you got?”

Choso chuckled. “Ube, birdie. And Mama likes it. It’s her favorite.”

Saturdays started with the inevitable cuddle mountain attack from Ani and Nori once they realized it was a no-school day. This promptly led to them dashing around the house as ‘Papa Kong’ chased them until breakfast was done. Perfected chaos.

On this Saturday, things were different. Choso, with the twins accompanying him, instructed you to stay in bed as he ran a few errands. You didn’t even try to protest. You nodded, turning over to go back to sleep for another hour.

While you enjoyed the morning of reading with the humming humidifier in the background, you began to miss the sound of your rowdy duo and patient husband.

When you first met Choso and a teen Yuji, weekends were filled with nothing but noise as Yuji had his 2 friends over often. The liveliness around the house reminds you of those days when you watched the three having the “Is a hot dog a sandwich” debate in your cute little apartment back then.

“We’re back!”

“Mama!”

The energetic war cries sliced through the silence, and you sat your book down. “Well, there my little birdies are! Where did you all go?”

“We went to eat pasta! And we went to the park! Papa took us to get sweets!” Nori stated as she sat beside you, wrestling with her shoes before pulling them off.

“yeah! We got mac’rns and donuts! Ones with berries and sprinkles!” Ani added, setting her small bag down before she climbed into your lap.

You looked to see Choso heading to the sunroom. Curious, you attempt to get up, but Ani traps you with a toothy smile on her cherub face.

“No, no, sorry! Papa said to keep you here until he finished uh… Preppering for you!”

“Preparing for me?”

They nodded in unison, snickering with glee.

The raven-haired girls tugged at your heartstrings with their sweet existence. Spitting image of their father with you being seen in their mannerisms and warm smiles. “What’s happening with you three, hmm?” The pair smiled at you as they spoke in hushed tones about the super secret Kamo party in what could only be described as the loudest whisper known to man.

While your children were talking to you about the squirrel they insist said hello to them, a very familiar knock was suddenly heard at the front door. “Be right back, birdies.”

The knocking persisted, and you knew exactly who it was the moment you saw the pink hair through the door's frosted glass.

“Yuji! What on earth are you doing in town?”

Yuji embraced you tightly, his bag falling to the floor as he practically picked you up, his boyish grin never fading.

“Cho called me! He said he wanted to get together soon. Though maybe I should’ve asked when…”

“Nonsense! Now is the perfect time. It's so good to see you.” You gave his cheek a slight pinch as he closed the door behind him.

He gave you another hug, this time squeezing you like he used to when he was younger. The familial warmth set in as he pulls away, looking at you. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you all. It's been forever”

“It has been. And your nieces are going to be thrilled to see you.” On cue, the twin girls ran into the foyer, screaming with excitement as they jumped onto Yuji.

“You two have certainly grown. You'll be bigger than Uncle soon! Must be eating your veggies, hm?” They giggled as he kneeled down to be at their level, his new tattoos being their point of interest with shock and awe.

A few minutes into your mini-reunion, Choso appeared at the foyer entrance.

“Little brother!” His tone was warm, and his eyes were shining. Choso went to Yuji, kissing his forehead before subjecting him to the most suffocating hug he could. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Of course. I’ll never miss the chance to see you guys!”

Taking in the energy from his most beloved people, he settled his eyes on the twins “Birdies? Do you mind leading the way to the back?”

“Uncle Yu, come on!” They both took one of his hands, you and Choso following behind.

  “Choso? What’s all this about?” Most of them being a much younger version of yourself and Choso; curiosity sets in as you scan over the various Polaroids that trimmed the hallway.

One in particular with you, Choso, and Yuji, eating ube tartlets after your graduation, catching your eye.

“Just wanted to do something for our family to celebrate today,” his lips landed a peck at the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve forgotten a holiday? Oh hell, Cho-cho, I’m so sorry-”

“Baby, you forgot nothing. It’s a new holiday.” Squeezing your hand, reassuring you, “One I declared and didn’t announce til today. So, do you remember what we did on this day 9 years ago?”

You pondered a moment. Your anniversary was a few months away, while birthdays were set for later in the year.

Hanging on the wall was a framed photo of Choso, Yuji, and you. Taken in front of your first apartment when Choso became Yuji’s guardian. It all clicked. “Oh Choso”

You paused at the opened French doors leading to the sunroom. Cherry blossom fairy string lights cross over the ceiling, highlighting drawings made by the twins. Sweets were arrayed on a table, and traditional tea was set in the center of the room. Yuji stood next to the setting, proudly looking at his brother's work.

“9 years ago, you stood right with me as I became his guardian. And you never left.” Yuji smiled on, remembering the moment when you welcomed him into your arms like you’d known him all his life. “You helped me grow. You became a figure in both our lives that we needed, and I haven’t properly shown how much I appreciated that.” Choso led you into the room, the girls sitting down as Yuji began to pour tea and plate their sweets. “You became my family and gave me the best gifts anyone could ever ask for.”

Speechless, you hugged him tightly, butterfly kisses to his now flushed cheeks before you looked around the room. Every detail from past dates to recent events in your lives is shown in the decor. “Thank you”

“Im pleased to say our first Kamo Family Day is officially here!”

Ani and Nori cheered as you sat with them, passing you the designated party hat as Yuji and Choso shared stories of their first years together.

Later that evening

  With both the kids and Yuji settled in for the night, you and Choso settled on the couch with the leftover tart.

Holding the fork out for him to take his bite, you peered over at him, deeply engrossed in the episode of Master Chef.

“I really feel like Gordon Ramsey would make me cry.”

“Hm?” you swallowed, trying to hide your laugh.

“I’m serious.” He glances over at you, low-lidded eyes showing a hint of melancholy. “Remember when the girls talked about how I did their space buns, which were all wonky, according to Nori? That haunted me for a week.”

He finally took a bite of tart and looked back at the TV. “Gordon would have me sobbing in our linen closet over how raw I like my burgers.”

You couldn’t help but grab the pillow, chortling into it. “I’ll protect you Cho, don’t worry.”

[harfanfare]

Aether x Reader || Glaze Lilies

"This one is delicious too," you said, swallowing another piece of the dish. “Paimon would probably create another stomach for these miracles.”

Aether chuckled softly as he bites off another piece of hot roll filled with traditional Liyue-rich stuffing. “I guess even that is not enough when the competition is the Sticky Honey Roast that Amber offered her.”

You smiled in response.

Late fall in Liyue was a beautiful time of the year.

The city was always full of red and gold colours like towns straight from fairy tales, but in this time, when the leaves have already turned dark orange and the air was carrying an aroma of seasonal seed cookies, Liyue looked even more breathtaking.

You were sure that it was Amber who made it possible for you to go somewhere on Aether's day off from doing… everything. Normally, you would be sitting in some restaurant watching Paimon heartlessly ordering all the dishes from a menu without looking at the number of zeros of each price.

But when Amber heard you mention dates accompanied by beautiful, falling leaves, she blushed as the flame of pure determination appeared in her eyes. In the evening she appeared in front of Paimon and offered her to go out to the city for one day.

Oh, if she only knew how much it will cost her...

"[Name], stay close to me, or I will lose you in this crowd." Aether gripped your hand tighter.

"Getting lost in such a big city would be romantic, wouldn't it?" you giggled.

"Getting lost and being found in the wrong place and time wouldn’t be," he replied. “Every city is much more dangerous when the night comes.”

You turned into another street to finally reach the viewpoint in Liyue.

You could see a lot more from there, but less people could see you. Who would twist their neck to see two little dots on top of a mountain?

"It's going to rain soon," Aether nodded at the clouds, which were moving quickly toward the city. He clicked his tongue. “If we don't want to get wet, we should be getting ready.”

"Oh, isn't that Aether?"

You turned around to see a girl approaching you two.

She was gorgeous—her long blonde hair waved in the breeze as if it existed only to be an effect for them. She had every girl's dream figure, bright, sparkling eyes, and rosy cheeks.

Perfect girl.

And the perfect person to compare yourself with to create a trillion complexes about your body.

She had a very charismatic, attractive aura around her, but the way she behaved towards Aether was slowly starting to bother you. Of course, it might just be some kind of funny, totally wrong prejudice against her, but ...

“[Girl's name]?” Aether muttered, not noticing your pleading gaze saying: ‘let's get out of here.’ “—What are you doing here?”

"I was just passing by," she laughed, her voice soft, pearl-like. “I couldn't go without saying hi, haha!” Then she looked at you and fixed you with a stare. It wasn't a cold look, but it wasn't friendly either. “And who is that?”

"Ah," Aether shook his head, as if only now remembering that he had not come here alone. He put his hand around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, [Name]”

“I didn't know you had a girlfriend! You always have to be so mysterious?” Aether rolled his eyes at her words, even if he smiled slightly. Then she turned to you. “Could I kidnap him for a moment? I need help moving my luggage to my new apartment.”

She grabbed his hand without waiting for your answer, as if it were a rhetorical question. As Aether released his hand from your waist, you felt as if you were left alone in a foreign land.

“I'll be back in a minute!” After these words, he turned to the blonde and at an equal pace, they turned around the corner of some house, behind the wall of which you could see an extremely high pile of boxes.

"It probably won't be a minute," you sighed.

You leaned against the railing and stared at the toes of your shoes, telling yourself that you should have opposed her. Would that be selfish? You've been dreaming about a date with Aether for so long, without third parties, and now that the moment has come, it turns out that someone will take from you your boyfriend anyway.

Five minutes passed... eight minutes... ten... thirteen...

After fourteen minutes, you got up and decided to check how much was already packed. Some of the super-heavy boxes seemed to be gone, but that was up for discussion since there were dozens of them here.

You couldn't find a familiar face in sight. Did... they just leave you here? More likely, they were just carrying some luggage into one of the nearby houses, but you couldn't knock on every door to find them—it would take hours.

You felt yourself slowly breaking down.

You knew you were a little (a little very much) jealous of this girl, but more depressing was the fact that this was going to be yours and Aether’s day. COMMON. Now you thought you were the loneliest person in the universe.

"I'm not going to get upset," you repeated aloud, trying to motivate yourself to leave this place. "I'll go... I’ll go somewhere and have a good time... alone."

With a quick step, as if you didn't want to think about this anymore, you turned back and followed the alleys you and Aether had previously travelled. You came to the food stores that you had only glanced at before, but you didn't have time to taste anything else because you were in a hurry to get to the viewpoint.

It is true that you ordered take-out rolls, but the whole range of different types of food seemed very tempting despite the filling bread.

And the smell of such highly seasoned dishes was tempting—very much.

"Sorry," a young girl approached you after you shoved a piece of meat into your mouth. You swallowed it quickly, almost choking on it. “Would you like to buy some flowers?”

“…Why not?” you replied.

The girl put the money in the pocket of her dress. Instead of putting a flower on your hand, she came closer and gently braided a glaze lily into your hair near right ear.

"Here you are," she replied and looked at you. A smile beamed across her face. “You look really pretty!”

"Thank you," you replied. You noticed that this was the last flower in her basket, and because of that, the ten-year-old girl seemed proud of herself. She walked away, thanking again for the purchase.

I think that one more on the other side and all would be perfect...

You glanced at the setting sun and concluded that you could give Aether a similar lily. Wouldn't that look cute on him? There was still some time before it will get completely dark. Even the rain clouds that had previously seemed to be crossing the sky at an alarming pace now seem to have stopped.

You finished eating and walked briskly towards the Danyu Ruins, hoping to find some pretty lilies on your way.

The silence, or rather the sound of the wind and the leaves rustling against each other, were the only thing that accompanied your footsteps since you left Liyue. It seemed relaxing at first, but now that the skies were a deeper blue than orange, you concluded that a travelling companion would not be a bad idea.

“They're here!” you finally found two lilies that glistened slightly in the dark. You collected them quickly and turned to head back into town.

…You were surprised when you encountered many, many roads, each of them unfamiliar.

"I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs," you joked, though panic had already paralyzed your legs.

Your problems were not diminished by the fact that you heard mad laughter near you. You felt your heart leap into your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as a figure emerged from behind the bushes.

Abyss mage.

You have heard about them from the stories of Aether, who sometimes told you about his adventures when you tried to bandage his wounds with a bandage, herbs, or other medicines.

As soon as your heart was beating, so quickly the magician saw you. He teleported a meter away from you and you started running.

Faster, faster, faster.

Before you ran a hundred meters, a mage appeared before you. You didn't even have time to stop when he waved his hand, and a large ice crystal formed in front of him. Huge and pointed towards you.

Almost as soon as it was launched, a certain force pushed both of you backwards. You felt pain in your left leg, but somehow you didn't fall. Strong arms held you and made you be in a comforting, familiar embrace.

You looked up to see Aether running towards the cliff to finally jump, open his gliding set and take you two away from the icy monster.

You didn't say a word to each other all this time.

As soon as you touched the ground, you stepped out of his embrace, as if feeling that you had abused his closeness too much. Instead, he grabbed your wrist, turned to face him, and initiated a long, passionate kiss.

He didn't pull away until you both were breathless, and your cheeks were burning like hot coals. You couldn't say you were cold anymore.

“Why?” He took a deep breath. However, his voice still trembled. “Why didn't you wait for me? If I did not make it on time—"

“I was waiting for you!” You interrupted him. You bit your lower lip as you tried to contain the tide of frustration. “It's you who disappeared somewhere. You went somewhere with that girl. I already thought you weren't coming back.”

Aether, an intelligent boy, immediately paraphrased your words "I was maybe jealous". At the thought, he smiled apologetically.

"Sorry," he said, scratching his neck. “I accidentally dropped a box on her leg and, oh, it was hard to treat someone who screams in pain before even a finger touches them…”

"Oh," you felt a deep flush of embarrassment coming up to your cheeks. Indeed, the previous redness of the cheeks did not disappear, but now it only preserved their shade for the next minutes. “I'm really sorry. I left you, put you and myself in danger, just to find some stupid flowers...”

For the third time since finding you, Aether hugged you tightly. He planted a kiss on the top of your head. You stood for a few minutes in pleasant silence, cuddling tightly to each other, and finally, you both relaxed completely.

You took the tangled lilies out of your pocket; one was practically worn out, but the other seemed to be in good condition. You dropped the massacred one, and you tried to straighten the petals with your fingers.

"Turn around," you told him.

He did it without batting an eye. You ran your fingers through his hair and braided his plant into a braid.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought yours, still artfully arranged, flashed a pleasant blue light as Aether examined his looks.

"It suits you," you said. You both decided to go back to Liyue and spend the rest of the night there. You held hands all the way back.

"You too," he replied. "We are complementing each other very nicely now with these flowers ...and also without them," he added with a smile.

"So, you still think getting lost isn't romantic?" You looked at him from under your lashes.

“Still. I wish I could have you with me without any excuse that you will get lost.”

[prproductions]

Okay so the idea for this one is that there’s a princess and she went on trip across the seas but her ship ends up crashing and she’s saved by a band of pirates. Her name is Emma and she ends up falling in love with the pirate captain, Eloise, but the thing is Emma is engaged to Elliot who comes to save her after a week. The story starts with Emma back at home. Hope you enjoy!

I can still smell it.

The smell of the sea salt as water sprays my face. I can hear the birds squawking in the distance. I can hear the waves crashing up against the ship and each other. I can feel the wooden deck beneath my feet. I can feel the sun warming my skin. I can feel her on my skin. I can feel Eliose’s chin on my shoulder as she holds me close. I can feel her peppering me with soft kisses. I can hear her whispering to me:

“Good morning Princess.”

“Good morning Eli” I murmur back,

"Baby please, come and eat"

"'m not hungry" I mutter back.

"Please babe, I'll take you out in the boat if you do."

"But we're already on a ship?"

"No we aren't, we're on the balcony of our beautiful bedroom in our palace that you designed."

I’m suddenly brought back to reality.

I'm back home, with my fiancé, Elliot Maignac. This dazzling man with his jet black hair and crystal blue eyes is who I’m with now. His honey tan skin covered in sun kisses are the strong muscles that hold me now. I’m back in my glamorous palace, back to completing my usual duties, back to my actual life, not my fantastical vacation.

I look over my shoulder at him "I'll come downstairs, just let me get dressed first."

"Thank you baby." He places a kiss on my cheek before retreating back out of the bedroom.

I stand there a moment longer looking off into the distance then I slug over to my wardrobe and mentally think over my schedule.

I want something exquisite and glamorous, for my first outfit of the day. I have a ladies’ tea party at noon where all the royal snow bunnies will be in attendance, and I want to look better than them. I’m thinking I wear my baby blue *adjective* dress that shimmers with every step I take. It’s one of a kind, it’s expensive, it’s soft and delicate, perfect for a tea party, and most importantly it’s unlike anything that those snobby, bitchy, rotten coozes have in their closets. It’ll be perfect. It is perfect.

After the tea party, I’ll come home and re-dress for the speech I’m giving to human students at a community college about being your true self or something. This outfit needs to say “success” but it can’t be too flashy— otherwise I’ll seem condescending. Maybe this is a good time to break out that gold gown with opal embellishments?

Finally, I'll end my day by attending a high list gala to commemorate the unveiling of an art gallery on the southeastern side of the mountain, and I have just the outfit for the occasion. I just bought a red and white mosaic dress that came with a matching hand fan and hair piece.

I bounce over to my vanity with my dresses in hand where a slew of maids rush to prepare me for the day. While one feeds me my morning smoothie, three others set to work on giving me my daily massage with warm lotion made from goats’ milk. One time, the Duke of Levingston’s wife, Arya was caught with ashy elbows and was the talk of town for weeks, and I’ll be damned if I make that same mistake. Once finished, the girls separate and each work on a different task. One of them ties my long, coily hair into a web of twists and braids, while another washes and prunes my wings until they’re white and fluffy as clouds. The other two work hand in hand on my makeup. Finally, I’m ready to go downstairs.

“Thank you ladies, you are what I truly missed while lost out at sea.”

“Yes ma’am, thank you man.” The youngest maid answers.

I walk down my hall of mirrors to the floor ledge. I can see Eli is sitting at a table covered in dozens of pastries and fruit yet he hasn’t touched a single one. Instead he’s engrossed in building his model airplane. I smile, he’s so cute. He doesn’t notice when I fly down and take a seat, nor when I start eating the strawberry danishes on his plate.

“Is that the new one you just got?” I ask, turning his attention to me.

Stunned, he stammers out: “Uh- umm, no I’ve had this one for a while, I just haven’t gotten around to making it.”

“What model is it?”

“It’s a Tamiya F4U-1A Corsair in 1/48 scale” He babbled excitedly, “It has *insert chatter about model airplanes here(at least 3 sentences)*”

His hazel eyes sparkle as he rambles on about the plane. I could honestly sit here and listen to him all day.

“*Ahem* My lady.” One of the staff members interrupts us from the door.

“Yes?” I answer through gritted teeth

“Your chauffeur is here.”

Elliot shoots me a confused look.

“Ah yes, the chauffeur.” I smile, then turn to Elliot “I have a ladies’ tea party to attend, but I’ll be back before nightfall.”

I place a quick kiss on his cheek before I hurry out the door.

As the car drives down the mountain, I look out the window at the ocean. I look at the ships rolling along crashing waves. I think of the mermaids swimming deep beneath the waves. I think of the mermaid that we met while at sea…

Chapter 2

Meria…

That was her name…

It was my fifth day out at sea and we were a two days trip from *place*. I was planning to escape as soon as we touched land.

[angst-fairygodmother]

37 and 66 from I love you things with Ollie and Jess?

A/N: Hi Nonny! Thank you so much for this prompt. I’m so sorry it took me a while to write, but I hope it was worth the wait. I went back and forth while writing this between making it a reader-insert and using Jess as an actual OC and finally settled on the latter, because it just felt right. (Which is probably how I will continue to write this pair going forward also.) Word Count: 3493 Rating: G - mostly fluff - heights (and fear of influencing how it’s written), a little swearing, referenced/implied panic attack

Jess closed the shop at 6pm on the dot, giving herself an hour to get ready for...whatever Ollie had planned. There weren’t a lot of places to go out to dinner in the area, and she desperately hoped he wouldn’t start out by inviting her home to meet the infamous Charlie Sway. She chewed nervously on her nail, staring at her closet. She knew she needed something that would work for anything, but her mind continued to run in circles trying to decide exactly what that meant. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given this much thought to what she looked like on someone else’s account. It felt strange to say the least. But, she mused, not a bad kind of strange. Eventually, she settled on a cute cream-colored sweater and jeans, hoping that the evening temperature dropped enough to make them reasonable.

There was a soft knock on the door and she frantically cast one last look over herself in the mirror, smoothing down her shirt and hair, stomach twisting nervously. 

She threw open the door perhaps a bit overenthusiastically, a warm expression on her face. 

“Hi,” she greeted him, the single syllable all she could get out as she met those soft blue eyes. 

Ollie grinned when he saw her, the excited, adoring expression making her heart flutter. It was hard for Jess not to scoff at the cliché, when she was behaving like the protagonists of the romances she sold by the dozen. But at least he was looking at her the same way, and seemed at least momentarily speechless. 

“Uh, do you want to come in?” she offered meekly after a moment, gesturing over her shoulder. “Or I can come out, and we can...I mean...um...”

The two of them stood there, staring at each other dumbly for a moment, on either side of the doorway. 

“So...where are we going?” she asked after a long pause ripe with awkward tension. She wanted to kick herself. Ollie had been so easy to talk to from the moment he walked into her store, but now, suddenly they were going on a proper date and everything felt different?

“I have a picnic bag in the back of my car, and I thought we could drive somewhere, and then maybe hike a bit?”

“A hike?” she asked nervously. “Like, up into the mountains?”

“Yeah. There’s a point up there that has great views of the entire town and the lake. Nik heard about it from one of the girls at the bar we were flirting with…I mean he was flirting with mostly. It wasn’t...I mean I didn’t...and this was before I met you…”

“Ollie,” she laughed lightly, tilting her head to one side to look at him. “I’m not the blushing, swooning virginal maiden, and I don’t expect you to be either.” 

He coughed, face turning crimson and she couldn’t help smiling fondly. Finally, things were feeling a little more normal, this was still the same Ollie she had come to adore. 

“You’re also only here for the summer, or however long it takes you to find your Dad’s record. So I hadn’t set my hopes on serious, or exclusive. I just think you’re cute, and fun to be around, so why not enjoy something and see what happens with it?”

“Oh.” His face twisted as he considered her words.

“However, I don’t think a hike is a good idea. It’s going to be dark soon.”

“There’s still almost two hours before sunset, and I brought flashlights so we can get back down the mountain.”

Of course, he had planned ahead. It would be stupid to plan a hiking date and not account for that, and he was far from stupid. And they were both dressed fine for the occasion. Her mind quested desperately for some other reason that they shouldn’t go and came up blank. So instead she held up a finger for him to wait, and went back to collect her camera. If she were going to do this, she might as well get some good photographs out of it, she rationed. Maybe even one she could sell prints of, if she was incredibly lucky. (She already felt insanely so, when such a wonderful boy wanted to go out with her, so why not see how far that streak ran?)

~

The first part of the hike went surprisingly smoothly, and it didn’t take long before Jess and Ollie were joking and laughing, scrabbling over rocks like young goats, playing eye-spy with the woods, any weirdness melting away in the evening sun. She barely noticed the way their path climbed, and felt completely relaxed.

Gradually, without her noticing, the trail narrowed and became steeper, until it rounded a tight bend up ahead, nothing but air off to her left and solid rock to the right. She swallowed nervously, trying to keep her eyes from the empty space. All of her joviality dropped away like the ground. 

“Jess?” Ollie asked, noticing her discomfort as she edged very slowly along. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yeah. Fine. I just...don’t like heights.” She answered, breath and words coming in short bursts. 

“Oh. Shit. Um, we can turn back if you want? I didn't realize you--”

“No. No, it's fine. We're here now. I'll make it through. You just might have to hold my hand for the way back down.”

She’d meant it as a joke, a light flirtation to distract her from the many, many feet she could fall with one misstep. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be doing any good, as her mind found a way to focus on both the space and how cheesy the sentence was.

“Do...you want me to now?” he countered, holding one slim hand out. 

She flashed him a small smile, taking it with her own and trying not to think too much about how nice, how right it felt. “You’ve been taking lessons with Nikolai haven’t you?”

“What?”

“That was smooth, Oliver,” she teased, enjoying the way he turned red all the way to the tips of his ears. 

~

Eventually, the young couple made it to the overlook, with much gentle guidance from Ollie to keep Jess’s nerves from overwhelming her, and she gasped. The lake stretched out below them, still and silver in the evening light, shining like a mirror. Tiny specks of color, moving too fast or too far for the eye to really track marked the boaters and jetskis, and kites flown from the small public beach. Most of the buildings disappeared into the verdant green surroundings, and the ones she could still spot looked like houses and shops and mansions for Polly Pockets, not people. The sun was just starting to dip behind the mountains on the far side of the lake, hazy outlines of shadow against the sherbert sky. 

“Oh, Ollie,” she breathed, stunned. “It’s beautiful.”

He mumbled something she didn’t catch and started unpacking the picnic he’d brought in his backpack. Not wanting to disturb him, and clearly left to her own devices for the moment, she took out her camera, adjusting the lens carefully, capturing as much of the view as she could. Then, on an impulse she turned around and snapped one of Ollie, silhouetted against the forest and the peeks of sunset between the trees, before he could notice. The sound of the shutter, or the finishing touches being put on dinner, made him look up.

“What are you doing, Jess?” he asked, confusion written across his features. 

“Taking pictures of beautiful things,” she answered with a shrug, bringing the camera to her eye again.

“No,” he held up his hand to block it, laughing. 

“I’m serious. This place, up here away from it all, suits you.”

“You’re full of shit, Jess.” He shook his head, his hair falling across his face.

She took another photo while his guard was down. 

“Come sit down. Marlena put together a good meal.” 

Relenting after another photo out into the distance, almost wishing she dared to get closer to the edge of the overlook, she carefully disassembled her camera, storing each piece with reverence back in its bag, before sitting across from him. He had set up quite the array on the blanket: simple but delicious looking toasted sandwiches, glasses and lemonade, berries and chunks of watermelon, and what looked like very freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.

“Ollie, it looks amazing,” she said with a smile, popping a sweet, juicy blackberry into her mouth with a small, exaggerated moan. “And tastes even better.”

He blushed, shrugging and laughing sheepishly. “All I did was carry it up here.”

She rolled her eyes as he deflected yet another compliment. He seemed to always be doing that, much to her frustration, and she made a mental note to find a way to make him see how much she meant them, how true each one was. 

Silence fell over the two of them as they started picking at the buffet between them, but it was an easy one, a pause rather than an interruption, and eventually conversation resumed. She asked him about his search for his father’s record and listened as he spoke of the things he had found, which weren’t what he was looking for but seemed to bring (mostly) happy memories of his childhood. He asked for stories of her family, and of what the town was like when summer-people left. 

“Sway Lake is a different place,” she concluded eventually, casting her eyes about her on the clifftop, “just like it is from up here. Or frozen in a moment in your record.” 

By now the remains of the food had been set aside, and the pair had scooted closer on the picnic blanket, sitting side by side and facing out, instead of across from one another. Hesitantly, Jess shifted her hand closer so that their pinkies brushed, daring him to take action and hold her hand again. He didn’t seem to notice as he turned to face her, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

“I…” he cleared his throat and started over. “You have a really unique view of the world.” 

Something in the way he said it made it feel like the kindest compliment someone could give, and it was finally her turn to blush, ducking her head to hide as her cheeks heated furiously. 

“I mean I guess,” she fiddled with the edge of the picnic blanket beside her, plucking at a loose thread so she didn’t have to meet his eyes just yet. “I’ve never really thought about it like that...”

“The view up here must be great for photos,” he said, making her laugh at his abrupt change of subject, obviously picking up on her embarrassment and knowing it well. 

“Yeah, it is. I’m hoping they come out well. Thank you for showing it to me.”

“The way people were talking, it’s pretty well known...how come you haven’t been up here before?”

“Heights, remember?” she flashed him a half-smile as she tilted her head to one side. “I’ve never had someone invite me before who seemed worth the risk.”

“How do you know if something’s worth it without ever seeing it?”

“You know your record is without hearing it don’t you? Besides, I said someone, not something.”

He froze, blinking owlishly at her. 

“Ollie?” she asked after a long pause, wondering what was going on with him suddenly.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted, and now it was her turn to freeze, the question momentarily incomprehensible. 

“Yes,” she breathed, barely getting the word out before his lips were pressed against hers. 

The contact was abrupt, almost a headbutt but more romantic. There was a moment of awkward fumbling, of bumping noses and clashing teeth, until their mouths finally slotted together properly. Even after finding the right way to connect, there was a split second of hesitation, and then his hands came up to frame her jaw, pulling her closer, the tips of his fingers teasing at her hairline and the small hairs that had escaped the scrunchie holding most of it back. Keeping one of her own hands on the blanket to hold herself steady, Jess wrapped the other around the back of his neck like an anchor and leaned into the pressure of his soft lips on hers. 

All too soon he pulled away, panting breathlessly, and staring at her with an awe that made her own breath catch in her throat. She was half tempted to pull him back into another kiss, if only to make him stop looking at her like that. 

A distant roll of thunder shattered the moment, and her eyes flickered toward the clouds gathering on the blue-purple horizon. 

“We should probably head back, before that gets here,” she said reluctantly, wishing she had more time.

Ollie nodded in agreement, and the two of them made quick work of packing back up the remains of the picnic. He handed her a heavy black flashlight (that, she noted gratefully, and then laughed internally at her own thought, would double as a decent weapon against a rogue mountain lion at least long enough to run) and set off down the mountain. She tried to follow him without looking down, but the uneven terrain in the growing darkness made that too difficult to maintain. Soon the very idea filled her with just as much fear as looking. The edge of the path seemed to drop sharply, drawing ever closer to her feet in the narrow beam of yellow light, until it felt like she was walking along the very line of the drop. 

She stopped short with a yelp, head spinning from the sensation and whole body trembling. The sound made Ollie turn around sharply, placing himself as a barrier between her and the fall as she pressed her back firmly against the rock. 

He took her by the shoulders, trying to get her to make eye contact instead of staring blankly at the sight, or lack of sight beyond him. 

“Jess? Can you hear me?” he asked. “It’s alright, Jess. I’m right here, I won’t let you fall.”

Her blood roared in her ears and she saw his lips move but it was too loud for her to hear him.

When talking didn’t seem to work, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a tight hug. Her fingers curled into his sweatshirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. Face pressed into the side of his neck she let out a sob, as the world spun around her much too fast.

~

The rest of the journey down to Ollie’s station wagon and much of the drive were a blur. Jess wasn’t completely unconvinced that he had somehow found a way to carry her down, although that was giving his physical strength more credit than he looked like it deserved. The storm picked up as they drove, clouds turning the sky to black, lit only by the occasional crash of lightning, and rain slamming against the roof and windows.

All too soon, the car stopped, parking in the narrow street in front of her building. They exited the car and promptly Ollie took her by the hand, lacing their fingers together. Not wanting to stand in the rain, she used the point of contact to drag him along, running as if she could dodge the water falling from the sky until they made it to her door. They stood there under the eaves, hair and clothing dripping, facing each other reluctantly, not wanting to say goodnight just yet.

“Tonight was…” he said, pausing. 

“Amazing?” she finished, smiling and feeling the light heat of a blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah. That.” He smiled back, and looked for a moment (during which her heart beat like a bird trying to escape her chest) like he was going to kiss her again. “I should let you go inside…”

“Stay over,” she blurted out before she could consider the words. 

“W-what?” he stared at her like she’d just grown an extra head or twelve. “Jess I can’t do that…”

“It’s late. And the weather’s bad. And I saw you yawning while we were driving back. I’d worry about you if you tried to go home now.”

“It’s just around the other side of the lake…”

“Yeah, but that’s like half an hour unless you drive recklessly. All it takes is drifting off for a second...please stay?”

“But...what will people think?”

“People,” she raised an eyebrow, “or your grandmother?”

“I don’t just mean her. I don’t want you to be treated like--”

“A slut?” 

He shuffled and looked away. 

“People aren’t that bad, you know. There are a handful of dicks, but most of town doesn’t give a shit.” 

“I didn’t mean…” he frowned. “I’m a Sway. I know people don’t like my family. If you’re seen with me like that...I know what being an outcast feels like, and I don’t want you to have to feel that way.”

“Well I guess you'll just have to make sure no one sees, then.” She smirked, before she sighed. “Look, Ollie. We're grown adults. What we do at night, or any other time, or with whom is no one's business but our own.”

“I know but--”

“No. No buts. I wouldn't have invited you to sleep over if I didn't mean it, or I wasn't prepared for gossip and fallout. It’s up to you. I just would feel a lot better if you did.”

“You really want me to stay?”

She rolled her eyes and fixed him with a look rather than actually answering. The wet breeze sent a shiver over her as she turned to unlock the door, not waiting anymore for him to make a decision. 

“And it’s not...too fast?”

She shrugged, taking him by the arm to pull him into the house and into a kiss. Her other hand threaded into his hair and his hovered over her hips as if he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to touch her .

“Too fast is a myth,” she murmured, breath ghosting across his face. “Besides, I was inviting you into my house, not my bed.” 

She’d lost count by now of the number of times she’d managed to make Ollie blush tonight, but each time you did was just as adorable as the first. 

“Although, I was going to offer to take the couch,” she said over your shoulder as she led the way toward the furniture in question, “so I guess it was...also...into my bed…this is...I’m making it weird.”

“What? No!” he fumbled to reassure her. “I mean, no. You’re not, not no I won’t sleep in...I don’t want to, without you. Not that we have to sleep together. It’s just. It’s your bed.”

“God we’re a pair,” she said, laughing now as she dropped down and motioned for him to sit beside her. “Tripping over ourselves like romantic baby deer.”

“I just don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted sheepishly, sitting awkwardly perched on the edge of the cushion as if he was going to run at any moment. 

“Is there...something to mess up?” she asked, reaching over to take his hand and lacing her fingers through his. 

“I think so,” the words may have been a statement but his face was a question as he turned toward her a little more. “I don't want this to be some summer fling, Jess. I want it to be real.”

“Hey, summer flings can also be real. There was this one guy who…” she paused at Ollie's expression and shook her head, “never mind. The point is they're not mutually exclusive. But I appreciate the sentiment. And I’d really like that too.”

“What does that mean though?” he asked. 

She paused. “That’s what we have to decide. But...not tonight. It’s late. We should go to bed and talk about it when we’re rested.” She fought back a yawn that emphasized her point as she stood. 

He nodded, watching her turn and cross the room, eyes lingering low. It took him a moment to realize when she had stopped moving again. 

“Well aren't you coming?” 

“What?” he squeaked out. 

“It occurs to me, the bed is big enough for two and way more comfortable than the couch.”

“I…”

“I just mean to sleep, for real. And, I guess, maybe cuddling?” She bit her lip nervously. “Unless you're not good with that…”

He stared for another long, awkward moment. “Even with my nightmares?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I’ll deal. Or maybe having someone else beside you will help.” 

Ollie scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to join her by the doorway. She laughed, lacing her fingers with his and leading him further through the apartment, silently marveling at how well things had gone, for a first date.

[wordsablaze]

13/13 - goat string of fate

A Dozen Denials Soulmate-identifiers exist to make things easier unless you’re Jaskier, who’s equally as deep in love as he is in denial. But there’s only so many excuses you can make to avoid the truth… (aka jaskier’s soulmate is definitely a witcher, just not the one he first assumes)

A/N: what we've all been waiting for... undeniable red string of fate, but with goats for eskel's sake ;) @alllthequeenshorses @eskel-loves-lilbleater

previous chapter

-

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

Jaskier’s heart breaks.

He knows that Geralt isn’t lying because the words don’t show up on his skin and he knows that Geralt isn’t just saying that for the sake of it because his pulse is as steady as ever under his wrist and he knows that Geralt isn’t thinking with a clouded mind because he can’t feel any intense emotions at the back of his mind.

The only logical conclusion to make is that Geralt really means it.

“See you round,” he says, even though he’s not sure he will.

It’s nowhere near the first time he’s had his heart broken but somehow this time hurts so much more than every other time, probably something to do with the fact that he’s leaving his very soulmate behind as he walks away with blurred vision and wobbly steps.

He doesn’t walk very far, though; he just can’t bring himself to.

-

There is a building on fire.

And there is a witcher trying to help.

Nobody asked him to help and yet he runs into the building because he can hear the panicked heartbeats of four humans inside.

He hands over a frightened child to their mother and runs back in.

He hands over a man to his grateful sister and runs back in.

He hands over a crying girl to her father and runs back in.

There’s one more racing heartbeat inside the building but he can’t find it, it doesn’t belong to anyone he can see, and even though he tries his best because he can’t let anyone die - he just can’t - he has no choice but to leave when the roof caves in and smoke fills the air.

It’s only once he can breathe again that he realises the heartbeat has followed him out.

The last person wasn’t in the fire after all; they’re under his skin.

-

Jaskier doesn’t get the rest of the story from the others in the end.

He wants to - he’s a bard so of course he wants to - but he knows that his own story having just found such a bitter end means that he won’t do the dragon hunt any justice so he leaves its tale to the dwarves.

He’s tired and he kind of wants to cry and he doesn’t know which way he’s meant to go so he doesn’t even try to subtly follow the others back down the mountain. Instead, he walks and walks and walks and hopes he doesn’t fall to his death.

And he doesn’t. But he does stumble over nothing in particular and end up rolling over himself until he hits a tree, gasping for breath and curling around his lute because he doesn’t have any other source of comfort.

The last thought he manages before he drifts off - read: passes out - is that he’s incredibly glad his lute hasn't broken the same way his heart has.

-

There is a funeral.

And there is a witcher trying to mourn.

But there is something giddy in the back of his throat and something bright behind his eyes and something exciting at his fingertips and he cannot focus his emotions.

There is a fight.

And there is a witcher trying to concentrate.

But there is a puzzle in his lungs and a question on the tip of his tongue and a mystery in his every bone and he cannot tell if he knows what move to make next.

There is a festival.

And there is a witcher watching quietly.

But there is a heavy grief in his stomach and a heavy doubt inside his mind and a heavy pain within his blood and he has no idea why his body is telling him to be upset.

-

Jaskier wakes to the taste of oranges.

For some reason, it just makes him want to cry.

“We are not dying on some godsforsaken mountain,” Jaskier mutters to his lute but also to himself because if he is to die, it will not be at the hands of heartbreak.

A lot easier said than done, though, because he ends up lost. Horribly lost. So lost that he wonders if someone had moved him while he was sleeping because there’s no way he could end up so clueless when he’d been pretty close to their original path the day before.

And he’s not unfit but he must have bruised himself more than he can tell while tumbling because he doesn’t get further than the duration of half a dozen ballads before both his muscles and his lungs force him to stop and rest in danger of retiring altogether.

Still, he keeps going. He can’t find anything edible but he hangs onto the taste of oranges from his stolen dream as he pushes forwards, begrudgingly thanking Destiny for giving him at least that from his soulmate.

-

There is a town with a contract.

And there is a witcher who almost regrets accepting it.

The monster is easy enough to defeat, nothing that takes more than a day. No, the monster isn’t the reason he chooses to disappear for almost a month afterwards - that would be the mirror.

Or more specifically, what he sees in the mirror: one of his eyes is the wrong colour.

He thinks he’s delirious at first but one potion and two hours’ worth of meditating later, his eyes are still inexplicably mismatched.

His left eye is the colour of the sky. The colour of the ocean. The colour of a privilege that he was never allowed to have. And he’s read just about enough poetry to know how that means he has a soulmate out there somewhere.

All that does is drown him in a blue hue of guilt.

-

Jaskier has just started playing his third song on the lute when something crashes into his legs.

He yelps, springing to his feet and almost tripping over whatever it is that’d crashed into him, which turns out to be a goat. A goat, of all things.

“Right, well, if you could not do that whole attacking thing again, that’d be great. You have rather pointy horns,” Jaskier huffs, settling on the rock once again.

To its credit, the goat seems to listen, munching on grass instead of stepping on his toes as Jaskier starts playing again. Confused but not entirely against the company, he continues singing about whatever comes to mind until the sky begins to darken and the air turns cold.

He sighs, putting the lute away and gently reaching out to stroke the goat, smiling when it doesn’t just headbutt him and bleats happily before settling in his lap. “At least you seem to want to stick around,” he mumbles.

Too tired to find anywhere more sheltered, Jaskier pulls his doublet tighter around himself and hugs his new best friend as tightly as he dares. For a moment, the goat lifts its head and stares at him and he fears he’s about to have his eye poked out, but then it just burps and settles again.

This time, he falls asleep laughing.

-

There is a hearth.

And there is a witcher sat beside three other witchers.

And despite the warmth of the fire and the warmth of his family, he is cold.

He is colder than he ever is, colder than when he is submerged underwater during a fight or when he is caught unawares in a storm or when he is kicked out of a tavern because he brings down the mood.

There is no explanation for why he is cold because he is home and he is safe and he should be warm but for some reason, he is not.

He is rarely warm.

And if he is warm, he doesn’t understand why.

There is no explanation for why he is warm when passing ruins he’s never seen before or when camping in the middle of nowhere just to be away from people or when being told the last copy of the book he’d been looking for was just sold to someone else.

Eventually, he gets used to the confusion, pulls on a cloak, and moves on.

-

Jaskier is probably losing a few of his marbles.

With nothing better to do, he follows the goat as it travels along a seemingly random path to find nothing in particular, stopping every so often to munch on something or the other.

“I can’t believe I’m following a goat,” he mutters to himself as he brushes grass off his arms, “and it’s not even a cute little baby- what’s a baby goat called? Hmm, I should really know that… Or should I? It’s not like I’ve met any farmers lately. Or anyone, for who am I meant to meet atop a mountain? Well, a goat, apparently.”

Said goat bleats at him as if asking him to hurry up.

“Yes yes, I’m hurrying. Some of us don’t eat grass, you know? Oh, but how would you know when all you can think about is the next patch of moss you’re going to eat? Is that what life is to be, travelling from patch to patch and-? Hey, that could be a wonderful name. I dub thee Patchy, my dearest goat friend,” Jaskier declares, grinning.

Patchy bleats again and headbutts his shin but it’s okay because it doesn’t hurt in the slightest and he only wobbles a little bit.  

“I’m taking that as your approval!”

-

There is a woman.

And there is a witcher lying in bed next to her.

They are both tired and not quite awake and she is gently running her nails along his arms because she has never seen anyone with so many scars.

He is waiting for her to fall asleep but she sits up and frowns, pointing out the words that have appeared on his skin: but I didn’t take any honey.

She must be able to tell he’s just as confused as she is because she gives him a funny look but doesn’t pry, though he leaves in the dead of night while she’s still asleep to avoid any chances of her asking questions.

But the words keep appearing and he ends up with plenty of his own questions anyway.

When he’s mending his armour: it doesn’t even hurt anymore; when he’s hunting: I love you more than I love getting drunk; when he’s brushing his horse: I assure you I have a perfectly good explanation; when he’s buying new gloves: I’m afraid I don’t know you; when he’s stitching up a wound: of course I was given permission to be here.

And on and on and on.

He wonders if this person is even human at times because they seem to lie more in a week than he even talks in a month.

-

Jaskier is exhausted.

“Hey, Patchy, it’s been lovely to know you but I think the time has come to part ways because I simply cannot take another step,” he mutters, leaning against the closest tree and sliding to the floor.

Patchy leaps into his lap with an oddly angry bleat.

Jaskier shrugs, ripping up a bit of grass and letting her eat it off his hand before sighing. “I fear it is indeed my fate to perish here. Perhaps life does grant blessings after all, hmm?”

His stomach rumbles and Patchy seems to take offence, startling and jerking sideways, the goat’s horns catching on his sleeve and causing a panic that leads to a large tear in his doublet and a mercifully smaller tear in his skin.

Still, he winces, pressing a hand onto the cut and half-heartedly glaring at Patchy. “Really? You’re lucky the material is red anyway, you menace.”

He regrets his words when the goat stands, spins on the spot, and makes a strange noise before sprinting away. Somehow, that abrupt departure stings far more than his actual injury.

-

There is an ocean.

And there is a witcher who has never been to the coast for a good reason, and still hasn’t.

He doesn’t belong in this scene, he’s borrowing it from someone else without even knowing how, but he can’t look away from the waves as they brush over the sand and over his toes before retreating once more.

There is a cane.

And there is a witcher who has never suffered this kind of punishment, and still hasn’t.

Although the injuries are not his and the crime - if it even exists - has nothing to do with him, he can’t escape the burning pain and the sharp throbbing as someone makes sure the wood meets its mark, again and again.

There is a cat.

And there is a witcher who has never been able to see one up close, and still hasn’t.

He’s not the one touching the tiny ball of fluff that curls up in his palms, he seems to be experiencing someone else’s amazement, but the feeling of soft fur and quiet purring stays with him for no less than a week.

-

Jaskier is ready to give up.

He truly has no idea where he is or how he’s meant to get back to flat land. The berries he’d found in the morning have done very little to provide him with energy and he’s about to declare himself as food for the wolves or something when he hears bleating.

“Patchy!”

And it is.

The goat barrels into him hard enough to knock him over but he’s too busy trying to hug his horned friend to care. He’s also too busy hugging his horned friend to notice that he’s being watched. That is, until someone clears their throat.

He freezes, looking up.

There’s a very long moment in which his heart drops about a mile into his stomach as he catches sight of a wolf medallion but then he sees the amber eyes and the spiked armour and the hesitant smile and his lungs remember how to work once again.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Jaskier says, grinning.

The witcher frowns at that, glancing over him in clear concern. Before he can reply, Jaskier looks away to tug his sleeve out of Patchy’s mouth and winces as he pulls on the not quite scab that had developed over the goat-inflicted wound.

“Oh, is he yours?” the witcher asks after a minute, and gods is his voice deep enough to sink into forever.

Jaskier blinks, pulling himself back to the matter at hand before he spirals into a daydream and shaking his head. “I didn’t even know he was a he, to be honest. Thank you for that, by the way, at least I can sing him a more accurate song of gratitude now.”

The witcher chuckles and steps to the side, revealing another, smaller goat that immediately bounds over and settles on his leg; Jaskier has never been so innocently afraid to accidentally move in his life.

“She’s called Lil Bleater,” the witcher says, promptly cursing when said goat starts nibbling on the sleeve Jaskier had just saved from being eaten by Patchy.

“It’s not like I was planning on wearing this doublet again anyway,” Jaskier says, but he still feels incredibly guilty for letting such fine tailoring end up as food for a pair of goats.

-

Eskel has never been so confused.

He feels like he recognises this stranger from somewhere but he can’t place it, the knowledge is almost like smoke slipping between his fingers before he can grasp it properly.

“It looks like it’s seen better days anyway,” he says, immediately regretting it when the other man blinks at him.

But then he laughs - perhaps the nicest laugh Eskel has ever had the pleasure of hearing - and holds out a hand, amusement sparkling in his eyes. Eskel leans forwards to shake his hand but Lil Bleater chooses that moment to get up and charge at him so he steps back and picks her up instead, offering the man an apologetic look.

“Not to worry, my hand will live a little longer without the honour of yours in it. I’m Jaskier, and you have my eternal gratitude for appearing out of nowhere when I was about a day away from forgetting what other people’s voices sound like,” the man says sincerely.

“Jaskier?” Eskel echoes.

He knows Geralt has mentioned this bard in the past and he’d have to be living under a rock not to know of him at all, what with the songs that are sung his way whenever he ventures into more populated towns, but he can’t fathom why someone so famous would be spending his time with a mountain goat.

Jaskier grins up at him. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me! I wish I could say the same but I don’t believe we’ve met before?”

Eskel shakes his head. “I, uh, I don’t do… crowds.”

“You and every other witcher, it seems,” Jaskier says, but he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to insult anyone. If anything, he seems almost sad.

“The crowds seem more like your style, bardling. What are you doing up here?”

The bard opens his mouth to say something before closing it again, then sighs. “I got lost and ended up following a goat until I got even more lost?”

Eskel chuckles, then puts Lil Bleater back on the ground before leaning down and offering Jaskier his hand because it feels odd to continue the conversation while he’s still sitting down. This time, the goats don’t get in the way and he manages to pull them both upright.

-

Jaskier gets about five seconds of being upright before he keels over.

Everything hurts.

The world blurs around him.

His knees hit the floor with a dull thud.

Everything really hurts.

There’s something under his skin.

His body is on fire.

Everything hurts so very much and he has no idea what’s happening and the sky has disappeared altogether and there’s water rushing past his ears and he’s in so much pain and he’s going to die without even having learnt this gorgeous witcher’s name and he can’t feel his hands at all and it’s way too dark and-

“Breathe, Jaskier!”

He already is.

Or maybe he’s not.

He unclenches his jaw and gasps desperately.

“That’s it, just breathe, you’re okay.”

But he’s not.

Or maybe he will be.

He groans and reluctantly peels open his eyes.

“I’ve got you,” the witcher murmurs, and he has; his arms are practically cradled around Jaskier and the two of them are kneeling in a tangle of limbs on the ground.

Jaskier exhales.

“You’re not going to die, I promise. And my name’s Eskel,” the witcher whispers, at which point Jaskier mortifyingly realises he must have been panicking out loud.

Slowly, Jaskier uncurls his limbs.

He stretches his fingers out from where they’d been squeezed into fists and waits for a moment before accepting that whatever the blinding pain had been is over before looking up, intending to thank Eskel.

But Eskel gasps before he can say anything.

And Jaskier immediately panics again, wondering what could possibly be wrong. He doesn’t need to ask though, because Eskel lifts a hand to ever so lightly tracing his finger down the right side of Jaskier’s face and it doesn’t take a genius to work out what he can see.

“No no no no no,” Jaskier breathes frantically, “this cannot be happening.”

He pulls himself out of Eskel’s arms and shakes his head but his gaze lands on his hands as he uses them to balance and his breath hitches. Without wasting a second, he shrugs off his doublet and rolls his sleeves up, eyes widening at the sight of silvery scars he’s never earned, silvery scars he’d once had and once lost.

“No, I- I already know my- Geralt was- is- no, no, no no no no, wait. Wait. This can’t be right, it can’t- it- you can’t- I mean, we can’t be- nope, no no...” Jaskier’s words can’t seem to form themselves properly as he struggles to breathe.

-

Eskel has no idea what’s happening.

Except he does.

There’s only really one explanation for why the marks that had suddenly revealed themselves on Jaskier’s skin are an exact copy of his own scars, there’s only really one explanation for why the colour of Jaskier’s eyes had seemed so familiar, and there’s only really explanation for why he feels like someone has cast igni inside his heart.

Unfortunately, Jaskier doesn’t seem to like that one explanation.

He waits, though. He waits until Jaskier remembers how to inhale and exhale properly before offering the bard a small smile. “I’m sorry.”

Surprisingly, Jaskier looks confused at that. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I don’t blame you for preferring, uh, Geralt. Or anyone else, for that matter. I wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

Even more surprisingly, Jaskier shuffles closer and punches his arm with a surprising amount of strength, his confusion having been entirely replaced by anger. “I don’t know what in Melitele’s name you think you mean by that but I demand that you stop… thinking it. I’m not- I- I just thought- I’ve spent years, so many years, thinking that I knew and I- I don’t know… I can’t-”

He cuts himself off, his chin wobbling, and Eskel has the inexplicable urge to hug him.

So he does.

Jaskier stiffens for half a second before he seems to forget that he has bones and all but melts into the embrace, burying his head into the crook of Eskel’s neck and throwing his arms around him as if his life depends on it.

Eskel has never felt so pleasantly warm in his life.

He wraps his arms around Jaskier in return and pulls him close, pretending that he can’t hear the sobs the bard is trying so hard to stifle and marvelling at the fact that he gets to hold his soulmate in his arms at all.

His soulmate.

He’d never thought he’d actually get to meet them.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier mumbles eventually.

Eskel pulls back only enough to frown, brushing the tears away from under Jaskier’s eyes before tilting his head to the left. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

-

Jaskier feels like a fool.

He leans into Eskel’s soft touch for a moment before cupping the witcher’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry I never looked for you. I’m sorry I didn’t realise I was wrong. I’m sorry I almost just insulted you. I’m sorry for wasting so much time. I’m just so, so sorry.”

Eskel shrugs. “You didn’t know and I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault. I… I knew and I didn’t try so perhaps I ought to be the one apologising to you.”

But Jaskier did know.

To some extent, at least.

He’s known for long enough that not everything was adding up and he’d ignored it, he’d done nothing about it because he’d been terrified of losing Geralt, of losing his soulmate, of losing a life he’s loved, and it turns out he’s been losing everything he didn’t even know he could have had instead.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier mumbles again, letting his forehead fall against Eskel’s as he closes his eyes.

“How does getting to the nearest inn sound?” Eskel offers.

Jaskier laughs and meets Eskel’s eyes, nodding. “Sounds like a plan I can’t argue with.”

“We’ll start with getting you to a proper bed and then go from there.”

He tries to resist that, he really does, but Jaskier simply cannot stop himself from smirking and raising an eyebrow. “Straight to bed, darling? Aren’t you even going to buy me a drink first?”

The endearingly sheepish look on Eskel’s face is almost worth all the pain.

“Though you really should buy me a drink first, for one reason or the other; I am a little dizzy still,” Jaskier mutters, having forgotten all about that because of the unprecedented pain.

Eskel curses.

Before Jaskier can even process the emotional whiplash, Eskel has lifted him to his feet and turned around, dropping to one knee. “Let’s go.”

Jaskier blinks. “Are you asking me to… climb on your back?”

Eskel turns to look at him with half a smile. “I really don’t think you’re capable of walking more than a mile more without collapsing, Jaskier.”

Well, that’s probably true. He grabs his lute and swings that onto his own back before looping his arms around Eskel’s neck, his legs locking around the witcher’s waist as he stands up effortlessly.

-

Eskel smiles as Jaskier settles on his back as if he were born to do so.

Which, quite possibly, he sort of was.

He smells like the comfort Eskel gets from when the dreams he borrows are good ones and it feels impossible that he gets to experience it in person. But it’s very much not impossible because Jaskier is a steady weight around his waist and on his shoulder and against his neck.

It’s a little overwhelming.

“So you’re the one who was dreaming of a succubus then?” Jaskier asks out of the blue.

Eskel stops walking for a second, narrowly avoids accidentally kicking Lil Bleater, and clears his throat. “Dreaming? No. No, that’s not quite how we spent the night.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jaskier laughs brightly. Eskel can feel the way his shoulders shake with the force of his amusement and it’s almost a miracle that neither of them overbalance.

“You’ll have to elaborate on that at some point, it’s going to make a great song!”

“You want to write songs about the succubi I’ve met?” Eskel asks, confused. Surely the bard could have asked Geralt about them over the years, it’s not like witchers can afford to designate who takes care of which creatures or anything.

But Jaskier snorts, pokes Eskel’s cheek, and shakes his head. “No, I- I want to write songs about… about my soulmate.”

That feels like a confession and Eskel is honoured to have received it. He hums in acknowledgement and gently squeezes one of Jaskier’s legs. “Not to worry, we have all the time in the world.”

“We do?” Jaskier asks.

Shuffling the bard’s weight a little bit, Eskel lifts his right hand so Jaskier can see his wrist and more specifically, the ouroboros etched into it. He hears Jaskier gasp before there are gentle fingers around his arm that almost make him shiver, a warm finger tracing the symbol over and over until Eskel hears quiet sniffling.

It takes a while for Jaskier to exhale softly and give Eskel’s hand back to him, after which he goes back to supporting his weight more evenly. He has plenty of his own questions but he figures it’s best to leave them for later, when they’ve both recovered from the shock.

The town comes into view sooner than expected, or perhaps Eskel had just been unknowingly pushing himself to walk faster because he can feel the way Jaskier’s grip has slowly relaxed to the point where he’s practically just draped over him like a very strange sort of cloak.

As much as he doesn’t want to let go of Jaskier, he has to when they get to the stables. Both goats are more than happy to be secured near Scorpion, who huffs at Jaskier just hard enough to send him stumbling into Eskel’s side with a small yelp.

“I’ve got you,” Eskel chuckles.

-

Jaskier grins.

“That you have,” he agrees, “but have you got a room?”

Nodding, Eskel leads them both back to the inn. But instead of going up the stairs, he guides Jaskier to the table in the corner. “Stay here, I’m going to get some food.”

Jaskier blinks, used to this scenario playing out the other way around. Eskel is gone before he can even think of replying so he just yawns and waits, shuffling over when the witcher returns because if he doesn’t lean against someone, he’s probably going to fall into his meal.

Eskel pauses for a second before sliding into the seat beside him, placing two bowls of stew in front of them. “I know you’re tired but you really should eat.”

“How ever will I repay such kindness?” Jaskier mumbles before following Eskel’s instructions.

Jaskier is immensely grateful that Eskel doesn’t mind being leaned on because almost counterintuitively, eating only makes him want to fall asleep even more. By the time they’re both finished, he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Almost there,” Eskel says, at which point he realises they’re now halfway up the stairs.

Yawning again, Jaskier keeps a tight hold of Eskel’s arm as they get to his room, thrown off when they stop by the door instead of somewhere more suitable for sleeping. “What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning.

Eskel places the lute Jaskier apparently hadn’t been strong enough to carry himself down before gesturing around vaguely. “I didn’t know anyone would be staying with me so…”

Jaskier laughs, throwing his head back. He has no idea what compels him to do so but he cups Eskel’s confused face in his hands and places a soft kiss on his nose. “Eskel, darling, you are literally my soulmate. I think we’ll be alright sharing a bed.”

He can actually feel the way Eskel smiles under his hands and can’t help grinning back, but then his knees decide to buckle for no apparent reason - aside from the general exhaustion and probably clumsy bruises, of course - and Eskel is once again the only thing keeping him upright.

He’s not entirely sure what the sequence of events is after that but he doesn’t care to puzzle over it because he ends up with his head on an actual pillow and Eskel’s arms around him and he’s never felt so comfortable and safe and content in his life.

“Don’t leave without me,” Jaskier mumbles even as he can feel himself drifting off, only slightly embarrassed at being so obvious about it.

Eskel hums quietly and brushes the pad of his thumb over Jaskier’s cheek before moving his hair away from his forehead, smiling softly as their eyes meet. “I would never even think of it,” he promises.

And somehow, despite everything else in his life that’s somehow gone wrong and fallen apart and proven that perhaps he shouldn’t be so blindly trusting of what he thinks may be the truth even if he has plenty of reasons to believe otherwise, Jaskier can't bring himself to doubt the witcher’s words even in the slightest.

If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that Eskel has always been his destiny.

-

i apologise if this finale was a little messy because i was indecisive and couldn't choose just one pov but i am so hyped to have finished !!! i hope this ending was worth all the chaos <3

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None Yet

Word Count: 1,583 Words

Summary: Maria and Mercury tell stories of the pasts.

Warnings: Self-Deprecation Mention, Abuse Mentions, Child Abuse Mention, Amputation Mention, Death Mention, Weapon Mention, Food Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Shadows Are Made Of Light: Chapter 3

Mercury was amazed while Maria was telling the story of her past. The most powerful Silver Eyed Warrior and someone he looked up to as a child, he respected her. But the story also infuriated him on her behalf. How dare they take her eyes like that? Is that what Salem would do to him if she found him?

"But I wasn't. I went into hiding soon after." Maria explained.

"I can't believe it. You. You're the Grimm Reaper. You were a legend. And then you disappeared." Qrow looked startled, shocked, appalled. It all made Mercury nearly laugh at him. He behaved like a obstinate child in front of his idol.

"How exactly does a legend disappear?" Oscar asked.

"You never used your name, never showed your face. Lots of us thought you were just laying low. Eventually we came to accept that you were probably dead. But the stories about you, I based my weapon off of yours. I wanted to be as good as the Grimm Reaper." Qrow spouted.

"Well, I'm nothing but a disappointment. So you're well on your way." She announced with a huff.

"How can you say that?" Blake asked. Mercury shook with rage. His idol, sitting here, criticizing herself.

"Child, a huntress is supposed to protect others to the bitter end. But after I lost my eyes, I only ever looked after myself. Even after my surgery, I was too afraid to fight, afraid someone would find me again, finish what the others started. You shouldn't aspire to be like me, especially when some of you are clearly stronger already. It's comforting seeing that your generation seems up to the task of inheriting this world. I'm just sorry I didn't do more to leave it in better shape."

Maria wistfully looked out over the ground they were passing over. Mercury felt rage subside slightly, she was scared, he understood that. That was exactly why he'd run after Beacon, run away to hide in Mistral only to find out that Lionheart was a traitor and he had to run again, to a place with no primary headmasters like Argus.

"When I was thirteen, I found a little girl when my father took me on one of his missions. Pretty young, a baby no older than her first few months, couldn't even walk yet. I named her Chrome because she didn't have a name. Father called her my sister but I cared for her more like a parent to a child, she was my daughter by all account. He didn't like my attention being drawn off elsewhere besides him so he only got worse toward me and her." Mercury looked at the pitying looks on the faces of team RWBY and Oscar and Qrow, even Maria looked sad.

"One day, I decided to run away from him with her. I managed to get to the next town over and I gave Chrome to a group of training huntsmen that were visiting the town from Atlas who promised to take care of her and I and take us to Atlas, since they were returning to their homeland that night. I knew he couldn't get to Atlas, so Atlas was the safest place to put her. That was until his friends found me and dragged me back home. He took my legs that day for defying him and getting rid of his only chip left to bargain for my obedience. He eventually got mad after about a week that I could no longer act as his personal maid enough that he gave me metal legs to replace the ones he took but, when he did that, I ended up killing him." He kept his composure. After all, Maria hadn't lost her cool when she was explaining.

"I would have hid too, probably found Chrome again afterward if Cinder hadn't found me there, looking for him. I would have run away and hid just like you did if she hadn't threatened me with knowing about Chrome. Because there's nothing wrong with hiding after something bad happens. It doesn't matter what you promised or who you promised it to. When you're hurt or scared and you want to hide, you do it because the person you need to save also has to be yourself sometimes."

He refused to look at the pity on their faces anymore. But he could feel the tension in the air loosen somewhat. Maria gave a little laugh.

"Thank you, Mercury." She looked at him smiling.

"Thank you for sharing something that personal, Mercury." Oscar whispered.

"I also have happier stories if you depressing bastards want something happier." He smirked.

"I think we could use happy after stuff that heavy." Ruby told him.

"Well, there was this one time Chrome decided to braid my hair as practice for her own. My hair was in tiny braids for over a week while I tried to get them out." He laughed.

"I can imagine that, that's the worst part." Yang cackled from the front.

"The great Mercury Black with dozens of tiny braids in his hair for upward of a week." Ruby chuckled. And, even if they were laughing at him, he was happy that the tension was gone now. The heaviness left in the air from those nightmares in Brunswick Farms was finally gone.

"Oh, I was thinking, Maria. Maybe you could teach me to use the Silver Eyes the way you did?" Ruby asked.

"Given I'm already training Mercury here for that same thing. It shouldn't be hard. I've always looked for other Silver Eyed Warriors to train, to teach the next generation of Silver Eyes and give hope back to this world." Maria smiled.

"You have Silver Eyes?" Ruby asked.

"How did you think we got out of that basement?" Mercury asked.

"I thought it was me?" Ruby seemed confused.

"You did the first one. The one where it got those nightmares away from Blake. I did the second that gave us time to get out." Mercury told her.

"Silver Eyed buddies then." Ruby lightly punched his shoulder.

"Hey, don't go stealing my metal limb buddy." Yang joked.

"I'm not. I'm not." Ruby stuck her tongue out at her sister. Then Ruby's scroll beeped and she brought it out. "It's Jaune!" Yang even stopped her bike.

"How?" Yang asked.

"The city?" Ruby asked. "Wait." She took the scroll from her ear and looked toward the direction that Yang was driving to find a path that led up a mountain. Argus. Yang made quick work of getting up the mountain to announce they'd arrived in Argus. Finally, this nightmare was over. They were safe.

Once there, Yang locked Bumblebee in a storage garage for vehicles. While the others waited for...something. Mercury didn't know what. He was just hoping they'd planned out a place to sleep at.

"Cute boy Oz!" Mercury looked toward the sound only to see a streak of pink as something tackled Oscar, though he helped steady them from falling on the ground while everyone else greeted team JNPR or, well, JNR. Mercury got a pang of guilt again. He had been part of the plan orchestrated that resulted in Pyrrha's death.

"Wait, who is this?" Nora asked.

"Mercury." Yang smiled proudly.

"WHAT!?" Jaune snapped.

"I've defected. I ran away. Salem would have killed me."

"Why would she kill a henchman besides you being expendable?" Jaune took out Crocea Mors, intending to use it against him.

"Because I have Silver Eyes. She kills people with Silver Eyes so I ran away and hid in Mistral. I left on the Argus train after Haven Academy was shut down." He told him.

"Why should we trust you?" Jaune asked.

"I have a daughter in Atlas. I'm trying to get to her. She should be turning six in a week." Mercury told him.

"You have a kid? A real kid?" Jaune asked, putting Crocea Mors away but laughing in his face.

"Yeah. I have her picture if you don't believe me." he angrily snapped.

"Yeah sure." Mercury pulled up the few pictures of Chrome he'd managed to get over the time he had his scroll.

"She looks just like you." Jaune hummed.

"I know, surprising considering she's adopted." He smirked.

"Alright, we can keep the stray you guys found." Jaune told them.

"Hey!" Mercury wanted to feel insulted but, honestly, it was kind of funny being referred to as a stray like he was some cat they'd found on their journey. They went onto the transit and Mercury just followed them around to Jaune's sister's house.

Mercury would absolutely not fawn over the baby Saphron had. He totally wasn't. Nope, not at all. He absolutely wasn't and no one had any proof that he was soft toward children, no sir. Mercury did take the food offered to him by Nora.

"C'mon, eat up. You can't be passing out on us." Nora shoved the sandwich into his mouth to stop his argument. It was then he realized he was actually really hungry.

He listened to their discussion this time while he ate. He wanted to know what would be happening. He wanted to make sure he could help at least. Mercury had a bad feeling, like something bad would happen to impede their journey like those damned nightmares.

"So we kinda already tried that and it didn't go super great." Jaune admitted.

"Come on, it couldn't be that bad." Yang laughed. Mercury had a feeling that she would regret saying that.

[moonflowerlesbians]

6. with dani and jamie would be so cute 🥺 like a lil vermont winter fic

for you, anon! I altered the wording ever so slightly, but the concept is identical. I hope you enjoy :)

you can also read on AO3

~~~

Their flat is located a few streets off from the center of town, close enough to walk but far enough to provide a sense of distance from the bustle of the main drag. Tonight, they set out just after sundown to ensure good seats to what Dani has affectionately dubbed, “the greatest holiday spectacular to ever grace the streets of Bennington,” and what Jamie has deemed, “an entirely American embarrassment.”

It’s their third winter in Vermont, and this year, The Leafling has generously sponsored half of Bennington High School’s Marching Seahorses’ winter uniforms in exchange for a full page ad in their concert programmes for a year and a sign carried at the front of the annual holiday parade. Or, rather, the kids had come to the shop with instruments, a flyer, and an unrehearsed elevator pitch, and Dani had been utterly charmed.

“It’s good to see them so passionate about something,” Dani had said.

Jamie had hummed and had continued tending to her sprouts.

“It would be good publicity,” Dani’d argued.

“Most expensive advertisement of my life.”

“Come on, they’re cute.”

“‘Cute’ doesn’t keep the lights on, Poppins.”

Unfortunately for Jamie, Dani has an irritating way of getting what she wants. And that’s how their small business ended up shelling out an ungodly amount of cash for an extracurricular named after the least fearsome sea creature Jamie can think of.

They don’t even have legs for Christsake.

But, the sheer delight on Dani’s face upon Jamie’s concession softened her heart. In any case, Dani made certain to thank her thoroughly and, ah, enthusiastically, that evening.

Jamie begins to regret her decision, now, as she’s dragged from her cozy flat into the absolutely frigid night air. She’s bundled in her warmest coat, a toque tucked over her ears to stave off the cold, but she swears she’s still going to catch frostbite.

Dani, meanwhile, wears a fleece-lined denim jacket over top one of her many cable-knit jumpers and insists she’s overheating. She carries a blanket under her arm, the other linked with Jamie’s, as she all but skips down the street.

“The English couldn’t handle a Midwestern winter. This is nothing,” she had said.

She’s always loved Christmastime, Jamie has come to learn. Dani has regaled her with seemingly endless stories about stringing popcorn and cranberry garlands, baking biscuits with Judy O’Mara, and breaking the occasional ornament decorating the tree. She’d felt awful about that last one, terrified to tell Mrs. O’Mara. She went on to explain in touching detail how Mrs. O’Mara had taken her hand and reminded her that it was just a bauble.

It made Jamie wonder how often Dani got into trouble for accidents in her home. A question for a later date.

As they near Main Street, the sound of jovial chatter and the unmistakable carolers grows louder. The shops they pass have festive window displays, elves in stockings of red and green reading storybooks or sledding down white fabric hills. Dani blows right past, determined to reach her carefully preselected place on the sidewalk. In what Jamie is convinced must be sub-zero temperatures, she can’t imagine the winter festival will be a popular destination.

She soon finds she is mistaken, however, when they round the corner and encounter a throng of people. The road has been blocked off at either end, and families drift in and out of the shops. Some skate on the temporary ice rink set up to the side. The lights lining the trees reflect prettily off the storefronts, the branches arching up and over the street. It would be like something out of a fairytale had the weather not been turning Jamie’s hands to icicles.

Dani is very proudly pointing to a square on the sidewalk out in front of the coffeehouse, and before Jamie is entirely sure what’s happened, she’s sitting on their too-small tartan picnic blanket over pavement that is far too cold on her arse. Dani is warm at her side, and they’re pressed close, using the size of their blanket as an excuse to disregard social acceptability.

“How long until this thing starts?”

Dani checks her wristwatch. “Thirty minutes, I think?”

“Fuckin’ freezing.”

The apparent mother of three standing nearby shoots them a glare.

“Jamie…” Dani gives an apologetic look, but the woman is already herding her children off in the direction of an arts and crafts booth.

“You know, if we were home, I’d wager we’d find a proper way to warm up.” She gets a sharp elbow to the ribs for that one and lets out a muffled oomph, though she wryly notes the new flush to Dani’s cheeks.

“Hot chocolate? I’ll go find us hot chocolate. I’m pretty sure there was a table supporting the junior high theatre department.”

“S’long as you’re not making it.” But Dani is already halfway down the block.

Then, Jamie is alone, freezing her arse off while waiting to see a mediocre high school marching band play in ungodly weather to make her partner happy. It’s the kind of domesticity she could never quite envision for herself. She’s come to find she’s, somewhat begrudgingly, fond of it.  

Bells jingle, the sound echoing off of low brick buildings. Red ribbon bows hang from lamp posts and doorknobs and rubbish bins, with tails that swing in the breeze. The air is crisp; it blows down from the mountains and feels like a fresh start.

Dani returns with two styrofoam cups, passing one off to Jamie, and sits with her knees to her chest.

Jamie eyes the pale brown liquid skeptically before taking a cautious sip.

“Dani,” she says, “why have you handed me cocoa-flavoured water?”

Dani grins sheepishly. “The kids may have made it.”

“I should applaud you, really. You’ve managed to find the one demographic worse at brewing than you.”

“Rude.”

Jamie receives another jab to the side, nearly sending her drink sloshing onto her lap.

“Hey, now, keep that up, and we’ll end the night in the emergency ward.”

“Oh, please, you’ve got enough layers on to stop a bullet.”

“You laugh now, but just wait ‘till we’ve been sitting here for hours.”

“Shh,” Dani interrupts, “it’s starting!”

A dozen or so children in leotards and tight buns dance down the street, followed by a horse-drawn vehicle painted cherry red, in which a larger man dressed as Saint Nicholas stands, waving at the assembled crowds.

Dani’s excited grip on Jamie’s bicep silences any snide remarks she might have made about the quality of performance. Dani’s eyes shine with glee, and it’s so lovely, the few silver strands of her hair capturing the twinkling holiday lights, that the words die in Jamie’s throat. She allows herself to fall into the spirit of the thing, content to sit beside Dani in the corner of life they’ve carved out for themselves. Even if that means listening to a rather shoddy trombone rendition of “Jingle Bells.”

Sure enough, though, heading off the band, a handful of students bear a banner proclaiming the high school’s name and the season’s sponsors. There, listed below the bakery, is The Leafling. Jamie feels a flash of pride. Somehow, seeing their little shop represented for the town to see feels real, grounding, in a way she can’t explain. They’ve found a place, a rhythm, to settle. They’ve left their mark on this town tradition and become a part of something. It feels like home.

So, perhaps she cheers a bit louder when the musicians pass them. This earns her an amused smile from Dani, at which she rolls her eyes.

It’s a relatively short parade. There are only so many volunteer organizations, churches, and youth groups in the town, after all. Jamie’s legs are stiff when she finally stands and offers a hand to help Dani up. Her arms are wrapped around herself.

“Cold?”

“No,” Dani says, “Come on, we should look at booths before we head home. Support the other local businesses.”

They wander the various tables, some offering wares, some business cards, some consultations, dipping in and out of shops until a sniffling noise catches Jamie’s attention. Dani not-so-subtly swipes at her nose.

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just-- fine.”

Jamie raises an eyebrow, trying to catch Dani’s eye, but she seems determined to look everywhere except Jamie. “You want my jacket?”

“I told you I’m not cold.”

“Right, ‘course not. Just positively shivering from excitement, then, are you?”

“Mhm.”

“No need to be brave on my account, Poppins, I won’t tell the world your secret.”

“And what secret is that?” Dani’s hands are tucked into her sides.

“That Dani Clayton, certified Midwesterner, can’t hash a brisk Vermont evening.” Her voice drops to a whisper, “Isn’t even snowing.”

“Hey,” Dani protests.

“Just take my jacket.”

“I’m fine.”

“Poppins.” Her tone is playful, a warning disguised as a tease.

Dani’s sighs. “Fine.”

“Ah, that’s a girl.” Jamie shrugs out of her top layer, draping it delicately over Dani’s shoulders. “Come on, then, can’t have you turning to ice on my watch.”

“You said something earlier about the proper way to warm up at home…”

“Was talking ‘bout a good cuppa,” Jamie smirks, “Why? D’you think of something else?”

Dani grumbles. “Tease.”

“Mhm,” Jamie murmurs, pressing her cold nose to Dani’s neck the instant they were out of sight, causing a squeal. “You like it.”

“Shut up.”

[tanoraqui]

[Part 1]

[now all on AO3!]

let’s get back to Nie Huaisang’s poor, innocent POV, shall we? Imagine that you a simple young man - not simple mentally, but simple in your desires. You’re naturally a bit of a fop, and you just want to live that life. Painted fans, pretty clothes, some light gossip with friends over wine...not practicing a blade-centric cultivation technique that’s both exhausting and often, eventually, deadly to the practicer...

In pursuit of this, you engage an old acquaintance in a little light construction of a dramatic but really quite simple lie to your beloved older brother (you really do love him, and you know he loves you; he’s just even more exhausting than the cultivation he insists you join in on). You talk about it together, and figure out something pretty good

and then she betrays you! more or less! in front of everyone, so there’s no way you can walk it back! And...okay, so her lie is also pretty good, and actually does align with a secondary goal re: your older brother, ie, preventing him from blade cultivation-related early death. So you only yell at her a little bit about that, when you followed her back to the rooms she’d been assigned, and it’s not so much “yelling” as “complaining very indignantly and loudly, but not so loudly that anyone can overhear what you’d meant to tell your brother (a harmless! little! lie!)” 

(you promise yourself to think faster if that sort of twist ever happens again, get the conversation back to the thing you actually wanted, but mostly you just desperately hope that nothing like that ever happens again)

And...she actually does help him. You have to help her bully him into it - you have to agree to practice with your own godforsaken saber in order to bargain him into it - but...your brother is calming down. You know more than probably anyone gives you credit for about Nie saber technique and its relation to qi deviation, and moreover you know your brother, and you can tell. So...you can forgive her a fair amount, perhaps

but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to whine, when she’s suddenly interrupting your even-harder-earned-than-usual free time. “Wen-gungiang, you’re blocking the peak! Of course I’ll do anything you ask, but please, I need to finish before the paint starts drying!”

Wen Qing just crosses her arms. “I mean it. A real favor.”

“What’s more important than painting my new fan?” Nie Huaisang begged

“Saving a child from death by malnourishment and stress at best, and more likely casual murder or, horrifyingly, overwork.”

Nie Huaisang blinks.

“Or I can tell Sect Leader Nie the real reason you brought me and Wen Ning to the Unclean Realm, how you wanted me to help you lie - ”

“No!” NHS scrambles to his feet. “Wen-guniang, you can’t! He’ll yell at me so much - !”

...and that’s how Nie Huaisang ends up back at the little town of Wen remnants in Qishan, fluttering his fan and rolling his eyes at the same Jin captain again. “I don’t knooow! I think I really am being punished this time.” He smiles just over the edge of his fan, with a lie he’s been planning the whole way over here. “Or maybe da-ge’s just going sweet on Maiden Wen. She yells at him back sometimes, about taking his medicine. I’m starting to think it’s the warrior’s way of reciting poetry in courtship!”

“Ah, Young Master Nie!” The captain/disciple - who I’m going to say is named Jin Qixian, a distant cousin of the main family - laughs. “Your life is so hard. But I’m sure your brother will get over any infatuation soon - that Wen girl you took wasn’t even that pretty.” She winks. “We have nicer-looking ones, though, if he ever wants”

“I think it’s more her strength of cultivational skill,” Nie Huaisang demurs, who’s been watching and sometimes working with Wen Qing for three weeks now, and can’t quite bear the direction this is suddenly going. Nor the memory of a guard shoving a man to the street just because he was in the way, which he saw as he landed. 

when they scrounge up the boy and bring him in - Wen Qing gave him a very detailed description of who to look for - it’s clinging to the leg of an elderly woman like a limpet. the child is scared in the way of children who don’t know what’s going on; the old woman is scared in the way of adults who do

“she’s his grandmother,” the guard who brought them shrugs sheepishly under the captain’s questioning stare. “came quieter this way”

huh. well, Nie Huaisang isn’t being blackmailed into picking up an entire extra grandmother. fortunately, he came prepared

he kneels down so he’s of height with the kid. “Hey, are you A-Yuan?”

the kid peers at him from behind his grandmother’s skirts and nods shyly

“Son of [father’s name] and [mother’s name]?”

the kid looks uncertain. The granny puts a guarded/comforting hand on his head and says, “Yes, Young Master...”

“Great!” Nie Huaisang tucks his nice fan into his belt and pulls out an also-nice but definitely more garishly colored and sturdily made one, and holds it out. “Because I have this present for an A-Yuan matching that description!” A-Yuan peeks out a little further, and he pulls it back. “But you’ll have to come here and get it.”

Nie Huaisang is the stranger in the park that your parents warn you about

A-Yuan has been inadequately warned about strangers in parks. He comes forth, and gets the fan. He even mumbles a shy “thank you” before stepping back to the safety of his grandmother

“I also have candy!” says Nie Huaisang, before the boy can take more than a step. The boy perks up. NHS waves a bag of sweets. “But for that, you’re going to have to come all the way back to Qinghe with me, so your Auntie Qing stops complaining about how you’re probably malnourished!”

Nie Huaisang is definitely the stranger in the park that your parents warned you about

The granny had been about to kowtow and start begging for him to leave her child alone, but she stops halfway to the floor, startled. “Wen Qing? Wen Qing sent - that is.” She bows. “The honored young master comes on behalf of Wen Qing?”

Under blackmailed duress! he thinks cheerfully (honestly this has all been going quite well.) With wide, harmless eyes, pinchable cheeks (for the granny) and a huff of annoyance (for the Jin guards) he whines, “Yes! And when all the mountain flowers are in bloom - I’m missing the nicest time of the year!”

All the play-acting really is fun - the best prank he’s ever pulled, in a way. He’s warming up to this whole scheme. And the boy seems quiet and biddable, or at least bribeable - Nie Huaisang can work with this!

A-Yuan bites his lip and points to the fan on NHS’s belt, a very one that he painted himself, on expensive Gusu silk. “If I come, can I have that, too?”

okay, he can maybe work with this

the disciples he brought with him are on the younger side, and thus more willing to hie halfway across the country on an errand that Nie Huaisang implied has his brother’s permission, but didn’t state outright. (Asking for forgiveness rather than permission is almost always the best way to handle Nie Mingjue.) This, it turns out, means that they have less strong golden cores, which means Nie Huaisang actually has to do nearly his fair share of carrying the toddler all the way back to the Unclean Realm. Under! blackmailed! duress!

Nie Mingjue greets them thunderously when they arrive, and Nie Huaisang is exhausted, even though they stayed at several inns along the way. Fortunately, it’s easier to summon tears that way, and he already has this story prepared: he’d actually promised Wen Qing to save her baby cousin (A-Yuan) as well, if she proved that she could really help his da-ge. And she did! So here he is, upholding the honor of Nie Clan! He just hadn’t wanted to say anything in case it jinxed Nie Mingjue’s health, or force him (NHS) to admit that he’d been such a poor negotiator for the Wens’ services, or - 

Once A-Yuan is settled in with the other orphans who both are and aren’t-quite-yet part of Nie sect*, Nie Huaisang also pokes his head into Wen Qing’s workroom, ie the infirmary apothecary, “You didn’t just trick me into rescuing Wen Xu’s secret bastard son or something, now long-lost heir to the terror and grandeur of the Nightless City, did you?”

* There was a war. There’s about half a dozen of them, too young to train but with no where else to go

“What? Nie Huaisang!” She leaps to her feet. “You’re back! You found A-Yuan?”

“Da-ge yelled at me for like 20 minutes in the front hall, how did you not notice? Yes - and I was thinking, and I wanted to make sure - ”

“You read too many romance novels.” She shoves past him. “Where is he?”

[smash cut to 2 weeks later] Nie Huaisang cannot work with this. He was supposed to acquire a toddler, not care for it!

okay, A-Yuan is pretty cute, and has a good appreciation for good art. So long as it’s brightly colored and/or involves butterflies. 

and it’s not Wen Qing’s fault that his brother put his foot down and declared that the child could stay but only with the other orphans; she and her brother were here to be healers, not mothers. earning their keep. 

(he’s still not really over the whole “Wen” thing, for all that Wen Qing has even managed to bully him into meditating before bed each night)

(Nie Huaisang is unironically starting to wonder if his brother is sweet on this terrifying harridan he foolishly brought into their home)

and it’s not A-Yuan’s fault that all but one of the women charged with caring for the orphans also aren’t over the whole “Wen” thing, and express this by caring for him as briskly and apathetically as possible

he finds this out on the third night that they’ve been home, when the last one, a young woman named Wu Yi, knocks on his bedroom door at some ungodly hour, with a wailing Wen Yuan on her hip. 

“Shh, shh,” she’s begging. “A-Yuan, you’ll wake the whole wing - ”

“I don’t want you!” he’s crying. “I want Granny! Where’s Granny!”

“Hey, hey!” NHS snaps in his face. “Hey, stop crying! One piece of candy for one hour of not crying for your granny, that’s the deal!”

(that is the deal, arrived at over the course of several day’s travel from Qishan to Qinghe. it helped that A-Yuan wouldn’t know how long an hour had been until he was told)

A-Yuan leans toward him immediately, still weeping. (Nie Huaisang has known him like...3 more days than Wu Yi has, but okay.) “Sang-ge! Don’t want candy, want Granny! Take me back to Granny!”

“Oh- hell - ” Nie Huaisang takes him and he’s cute but he’s gross, he’s crying and snotty and its all getting all over Nie Huaisang’s very nice jade silk sleeping robe; if this is what consequences are like, Nie Huaisang hates them. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you bothering your Aunt Qing, or Uncle Ning?” 

He addresses A-Yuan but looks at Wu Yi. Her gaze skitters away. “Sect Leader Nie was very clear...”

anyway, he’s a good kid, and he’s actually pretty good at carefully distributing seed in the aviary, or sitting quietly and entertaining himself with small toys while Nie Huaisang paints. To an extent. Wei Wuxian visited again, presumably for the express purpose of mocking Nie Huaisang for being forced to acquire a toddler, and spent the entire time setting a bad example. A-Yuan spent the next several days running around and shouting excitedly, and somehow found a wooden saber to wave around while he did so

A few days after that, the Sworn Brothers visited, and Nie Huaisang chose to hide out with the young orphans himself, assisting with snack time and play and even bedtime whenever possible. The alternative was either being dragged into hosting or breaking and suggesting that the three of them just fuck out their weird, multi-layered tension. or both in sequence.

if there wasn’t a chance of getting a proper heir between himself and the Sect Leadership, Nie Huaisang was aggressively uninterested in his brother’s sex life. But also, there’s only so much yearning/angry/whatever-the-fuck-is-happening-here tension a younger brother can take

Wen Qing found him on the second day, and waited until Nap/Enforced Quiet Time had taken hold before asking, quietly, “Does your brother trust Jin Guangyao?”

She was serious, so he thought about it. “No. But Lan Xichen does, and da-ge trusts Lan Xichen.”

Wen Qing made a noise that wasn’t quite neutral enough to hide her dissatisfaction.

“Why?” Nie Huaisang asked as though he was asking for gossip.

Wen Qing had never been one to gossip, nor to humor would-be-fools. “Wen Ruohan trusted him.”

(Meaning: what sort of man do you think Wen Ruohan trusted. Meaning: and look what happened to Wen Ruohan)

She left and fifteen minutes later, Wen Ning arrived, with a very specific look on his face. It was the look of one whose beloved-but-exhausting older sibling has ordered them somewhere Safe, who is obeying because they understand the danger but want to stay and help, are pretty sure they could help, but aren’t confident enough in how to actually disagree

Nie Huaisang recognizes it because he spent several months learning how to hide it in the Sunshot Campaign, in favor of a smile vapid enough to be contagious 

But A-Yuan didn’t stop having nightmares, and he learned how to slip out of his assigned bunk and come crawl into Nie Huaisang’s bed instead, to curl up like a sad little lump of fear of abandonment, which just meant that the tears and snot got on Nie Huaisang’s sheets, too. And he was starting to feel bad about the whole “fear of abandonment” thing, not to mention the lingering memory of the man shoved onto the street, the fear in that grandmother’s eyes, the smirk in Jin Qixian’s...

So a few days later he was back at the oversight office in Qishan, with the same biddable young disciples as last time, rolling his eyes pitifully over the edge of his fan. “I don’t knoooww, Jin-guniang! Except it’s definitely punishment for me this time...but you know my brother. He’s so scary! He says ‘Jump’ and you have to say ‘how high?’ - and then he says, ‘Onto your sword, Huaisang! You don’t practice enough!’”

Jin Qixian laughed at him as much as at deep-voiced impression, but that was okay. “And yet, Nie-gongzi, I see that you brought horses to ride, as well as swords...”

“I’m not going to carry an entire old lady back to the Unclean Realm!” he cried plaintively. “Do you know how hard it was just to take a three-year-old? I was tired for days.”

She laughs again, as Granny is brought in. “Well, your timing is good - this one was on the list for the work camp at Qionqgi Pass, to be transferred tomorrow.”

Nie Huaisang is 80% genuinely confused and surprised. The remaining 20% is cynicism, and the fact that every time he’s been here, the people have looked a little filthier, a little more trembling with fear and cold, and the guards’ noses a little higher in the air. Granny and the guard that brings her are no exception

He lets the 80% show

“What? Why send an old woman to a work camp - what good would her labor be?”

Jin Qixian shrugs. “Their names are all on a list, and we send the next batch when they call for more workers. If they can’t handle a little punishment, then maybe they shouldn’t have been Wens.”

Even the 20% is dismayed. But hiding that sort of thing is what fans are for. Anyway, it’s not Nie Huaisang’s problem - Qiongqi Pass isn’t even on the way home

“Come on then, Granny,” he says, and takes her by the arm. “Do you know how to ride a horse? I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t know how to ride a horse!”

they’re about halfway back to the Unclean Realm, on a random stretch of road, when a single cultivator flies overhead from the direction of the Wen village, and lands before them. Looking somewhere between annoyed, harassed, and genuinely baffled, Jin Guangyao asks, “Nie Huaisang, what are you doing?”

To be continued... (this is almost certainly Part 2 of 3, but I’ve learned better than to say such things with confidence)

[ryik-the-writer]

For @celticheartedfangirl​, Happy Christmas in July

This prompt was a treat, even if I”m extremely behind

Plot: Belle and Rumplestiltskin go on a trip to retrieve an object from a vengeful ice queen, only to end up in a snowstorm.

A03

                                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Since Belle had made her deal to go with him forever, Rumplestiltskin’s life had gotten much more…chaotic.

He had never intended to bring Belle along on his many quests and adventures…hell he hadn’t known what to do with her after making that deal!

But after the Robin Hood incident, he had an anchoring to keep her near.

Not because he liked her! No, of course not…

Their latest adventure involved bringing Belle to a town frozen in time where a very angry snow queen had cursed them all.

Of course, he hadn’t let on right away what they were doing, thus she had no way of knowing that the ice sculptures she was ogling at were indeed human.

“They’re beautiful,” Belle cooed, pushing the heavy bag she had packed behind her so she could view each one. “How cute, a dog!”

Rumplestiltskin withheld a mischievous grin. Poor girl would faint if she knew the truth!

Then, she had found the remains of an icy lake, solid and tempting.

Her smile had been bright enough to melt the whole town.

“I haven’t been ice-skating since I was a little girl,” she grinned as she changed her shoes.

Rumplestiltskin huffed. “I don’t believe we have—”

Belle shot off before he could finish, causing Rumple’s heart to jump when she stumbled across the ice, struggling for stable ground.

In a flash, Rumplestiltskin magicked to her side, steadying her.

“It’s…it’s been a while,” Belle chuckled as her lets finally stopped shaking.

“Obviously,” he said, trying to hide his concern.

She didn’t let go of his hand, instead pulling him along with her as she set off again.

He used magic to keep him from sliding ungracefully, but he couldn’t quite contain his surprise at her eagerness to be with him.

She looked back at him, grinning ear to ear, admitting her gratefulness that he let her come along without a single word.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t contain a smile back. She really was a lovely girl. Such a shame he could never tell her…

After a moment she led him back to the bank of the pond, skidding them both to a stop.

After catching her breath, she brushed a strand from her face and skipped his way, hands crossed behind her back.

“You didn’t bring me here just for the brilliant ice sculpting,” she teased. “What’s on today’s agenda?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled with mischief. “Visiting an old friend.”

Belle gave him a look. “By friend, you mean sworn enemy, right?”

Rumplestiltskin giggled. “We…have history.”

Belle hummed, rubbing her hands together and shivering. “Don’t suppose we could visit a pub for a hot cider before we visit your sworn enemy?”

Rumplestiltskin helped her to her feet. “Plenty of time for that later, now come! We should reach her palace by nightfall! We’ll need to be back at the castle by the morning for our appointment with the Hatter.”

Belle sighed as he began to walk on without her. Back to arm’s length, it would seem.

She adjusted her bag on her shoulders, striving to catch up to him as she paused in front of another ice sculpture.

This one seemed to be a mother holding their child to them closely, as if she were shielding them both from some unknown terror.

Belle gulped, looking at the others she had noticed earlier. They were all facing the same direction, fleeing from something.

“Belle?”

Belle hesitantly followed her employer, glancing around uneasily but thankful she couldn’t see the expressions on the sculptures faces.

It would seem the artist of these pieces had a twisted sense of humor, and something told her the Dark One knew more than he was letting on.

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle nearly went blind at the site of the ice palace, the structure made from the whitest ice she’d ever seen.

She let Rumplestiltskin lead them in and she almost didn’t see the woman at the far end of the room stand to greet them.

“Rumplestiltskin,” the woman greeted evenly, and after blinking a few times Belle could make out the piecing blue of her eyes.

The Dark One stopped, causing Belle to nearly collide into him. She frowned as he bowed mockingly to the woman.

“You majesty,” he giggled. “You are the queen now, yes?”

“Watch it!” the woman seethed, stepping down from her pyramid of ice blocks to stand a few feet from him. “What do you want?”

“I want what you took from me,” Rumplestiltksin growled. “I want it back.”

“She is mine!” The Ice Queen seethed.

“The urn is my property, which makes the woman in it mine as well!”

Belle gasped. They were after a woman? A trapped woman?

The queen glared at him, the look making Belle shake from something much more deadly than the cold.

Suddenly, her eyes shot to Belle, and a sharp, queer smile spread across her face.

“And who is this?”

Rumplestiltskin stepped in front of Belle, shielding her from the hate-filled eyes.

“None of your concern,” he spat. “Now give me what I want.”

The Ice Queen’s smile seemed frozen in place, as if she could had turned into one of the ice sculptures in the village…

Wait…

Belle glanced around and noticed that there were dozens more. Some dressed like servants, carrying trays and flowers, like they had been active in their daily tasks…

And some of them looked like they were fleeing.

Belle’s heart stopped.

They had been.

“They’re alive…they were alive…” she gasped. “They’re people…”

Rumplestiltskin glanced back at her, swallowing a bit.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Belle seethed, but Rumplestiltskin shot around quickly.

“He’s one for surprises dear,” the Ice Queen said. “And treachery—“

“Enough,” Rumplestiltskin spat. “Give me what I came here for.”

“Very well, Dark One,” the Ice Queen agreed coolly. She waved her hand and a golden urn appeared in her hand.

“I’ll give you back your property,” she said, staring at the object with an odd sort of fondness.

And then to Belle with pure malice.

“But in exchange, I’m taking your little friend to add to my collection.”

In a flash, a white burst of magic shot from her hand, threating to collide with Belle.

Rumplestiltskin reacted before she could and shot around grabbed her, pulling her into his chest.

The magic hit him square in his back, causing a weak cry to leave his lungs as he fell to his knees.

Belle struggled to hold him up as she screamed, a patch of ice spreading quickly across his back.

“No, what…what’s going on?” She cried as she fell to her knees with him.

He convulsed violently, the darkness in him fighting off whatever spell she had thrown at him, but he could feel is slipping quickly into his darkened heart.

He squeezed Belle’s arm, the warmth of her skin the one thing that kept him from falling completely victim to the curse.

The Ice Queen cackled behind him and Rumplestiltskin gnashed his teeth in defiance.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” she cooed.

Belle glared at her, but before she could shout at the vile woman Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arms around her waist and magicked them out of the Ice Queen’s lair.

                                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 They broke apart as soon as they soon as Rumplestiltskin magicked them to the mountain’s side. They were free of the wretched queen, but her icy environment was waiting for them, swallowing them in a heated coldness no one could imagine.

It fell’s like she land on hot needles, piercing every nerve in her body without ever breaking the skin.

She finally thought, her body adjusting to the pain as her brain tried to focus on her surroundings.

“R-r-rumple!” she called out, the angry winds blocking out her voice.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and drudged through the knee-deep snow, searching immediately for shelter of some sort.

If one thing from her childhood winters at Avonlea taught her it was that when caught in a storm, finding a heat source was the difference between freezing to death and living.

There was a cluster of rocks several yards from her, just visible thought the whirling ice. Her body was going numb already, but her sheer anger at Rumplestiltskin was keeping her going.

She knew he was dark, she’d accepted that, but she had also seen his more human side. She’d seen him show mercy and kindness to foes, so why couldn’t he extend such graces to the general public?

And then he just hid what was going on to her, after all they’d been through?

He was going to get it—

She gasped as she tripped over something hard. She gasped as she got a face full of hard snow and winced as she felt a bruise forming.

She growled and twisted around to see what had caused her fall and immediately recognized Rumpelstiltskin’s hard leather coat, his unflinching hand peeking out of the sleeve.

She struggled to crawl to his side and flip him onto his back.

“Rumple?” she yelled as she shook him. His eyes barely opened, staring hazily at her. She could feel him trembling even through the thick leather. Whatever the Snow Queen had done to him had made him very weak.

“Hey,” she said shaking him a bit. “What happened? What did she do?”

“Sp…spell…” he groaned so weakly Belle barely heard it.

She squinted around, estimating their distance from the rocks. She took a deep breath and began lift Rumplestiltskin up, slinging one of her shoulder as he groaned.

“We have to move,” she said. “Can you walk?”

She felt him faintly nod but got little effort out of him. She straightened her back and began pulling him in the direction of the rocks, praying a cave was clustered somewhere in the mess.

Rumplestiltskin was grumbling, his body going back and forth from heavy to light, signifying his inability to stay conscious.

Belle just pulled him tighter to her, dragging him with all her strength. She was losing steam fast but pure determination kept her going. That and keeping him alive so she could kick his arse later.

Thankfully there was an opening in the cave, and deep enough that it would shield them from the elements.

He began to come to again, his limbs twitching as he subconsciously tried to help her along.

Belle shushed him gently as she leaned him against the wall as she began to take off her overcoat and wrapped it around him.

“Hang on, okay?” she encouraged through chattering lips.

She felt along the walls of the cave, gliding one hand along the floor in search for wood or some kind of debris that could be burnt, but all she could find were a few sticks.

They needed warmth now or it wouldn’t be long until the both were goners.

She gathered what she could find a few feet in front of Rumple, frowning miserably.

She grabbed her bag and dumped its contents out, gulping when noted the only thing that could be used for a fire was her beloved copy of “Her Handsome Hero.”

The only thing she had from her dear, sweet mama.

Why did she think she’d have time to read on a mission?!

Rumplestiltskin made a quiet moan, easing in and out of an uncomfortable unconsciousness.

Neither one of them were going to last much longer at this rate. She was already getting so tired, hypothermia biting at her lips.

She looked at Rumple, her lips shaking, and not from the cold.

She lovingly placed her books on the ground, clashing to rocks together to get a spark going.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks as a spark caught onto one of the pages, so old from years of being passed down that the flames picked up instantly.

The warmth barely helped her feel accomplished, but the flames grew enough that they would have a moment of warmth before the chill set in once more.

She glanced at the Dark One in his fitful state, feeling a strange coldness fill her chest that she hadn’t felt since she first arrived at his castle.

“You did all this,” she whispered. “You brought us out here to face off with that awful woman, and now…” her lips began to shake as her grief began to overflow.

“And you kept it from me,” she sobbed. “You lied to me…even after everything we’ve been though.

Rumplestiltskin coughed, his eyes fluttering.

“…Belle?”

Belle moved around the small fire, easing to his side. She stared at him, trying to stay calm. He was injured after all, and she’d be on death’s door herself if he couldn’t magic them out.

“What’s happening to you?”

He struggled to sit up, a flickering blue light spreading over his chest.

“A spell,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “It freezes the target from the inside out…”

Belle tensed. “Are you—”

“No,” he chuckled weakly. “Such magic can’t kill the Dark One…” he gasped as another wave of cold threatened him. “No really. I’ll be fine…then I’ll get us out of here.”

Belle nodded, satisfied that he would be find.

But she was still angry.

“Did you know what she was doing to those people, what they were?”

“Belle…”

“Why didn’t you stop her!” Belle yelled. “You could have helped those people!”

“I’m not a hero Belle—”

“You don’t have to be a hero to do the right thing!”

Rumplestiltskin fell back, annoyance building through the pain.

“I don’t’ need to explain myself to you.”

Belle scoffed. “No I guess you don’t.” she moved away from him and began picking at the fire, trying to keep it lively with a few sticks.

He tried to remain calm, tried to focus all his energy and magic into fighting the damned curse that awful woman had cast on him.

But he was so cold. The spell wouldn’t kill him, but there was no doubt it would take days for it to wear off. The snow storm outside seemed to grow stronger, no doubt the Snow Queen’s doing to smite him out once and for all.

He glanced at Belle, frowning at her slouched shoulders. He didn’t like it when she was angry at him, but it was better to keep her at arm’s length.

He was a monster, she needed to realize that. It’d save her.

The heat from the small fire she had built had faded fast and the cave was freezing once more.

Belle rubbed her arms, her energy nearly depleted. She felt so tired, the frantic voice in the back of her mind screaming at her not to fall asleep.

Her mother’s book as a pile of smoky ash now and there was nothing left to burn.

She laid on her side, facing Rumple.

“I’m so tired,” she muttered, feeling her eyes grow heavy. Her body was so cold now she couldn’t even feel anything.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, turning his head, his heart racing when he saw she wasn’t moving.

“No, Belle!” he moaned, turning painfully on his side and crawling to her. “No, please don’t fall asleep!”

Belle moaned. “It’s okay…”

“No, Belle, look at me,” he reached out, taking hold of her chin. “Please stay awake. Yell at me, hit, just don’t fall asleep!”

She didn’t answer, and Rumple willed his magic to his limbs to give him more strength. He managed to sit up and pull Belle closer to him, her pulse a bare flutter under his fingers.

He snatched the coats she had laid on him off himself to cover her.

“Belle wake up…I’m sorry…I’m sorry for everything. For lying to you, to bringing you into this.” He mused her hair from her beautiful face, so peaceful.

“I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He leaned up to see the fire she attempted to build, recognizing the burnt paper flakes.

“Oh Belle, I’m so sorry,” he said as he rubbed at her arms over the jacket.

He recalled briefly — in another life —doing the same thing to keep his son warm.

In the very early mornings when the fire he’d set the night before had long gone out, his wee son would crawl into bed with him and they’d hold each other close until they warmed up.

The memory filled him with comfort and guilt, but also a very embarrassing idea.

With his magic doing its part, his skin had started to retain some of its warmth. If he and Belle were skin to skin…

He cringed at the thought. She’d be disgusted with him, but she wouldn’t be much of anything if she froze to death.

“Belle,” he whispered as his stiff fingers carefully began to open her shirt. “I’m going to try something I hope will save us both.” He averted his eyes from her pale skin as he undid his undershirt.

He reached out to tie their coats together, creating a sort of blanket for them.

As his heart pounded, he pulled Belle to his chest, his back against the storm, and entangled their legs, the heat between them slowly building.

“You’re going to be alright Belle,” he whispered into her hair, holding her close as he drifted into his own slumber.

                                                       -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle opened her eyes slowly, the cold that had soaked into her bones now gone. Her hand grazed upon something hard and textured, but not unpleasant to the touch.

It took her a moment to realize she was lying on someone, their legs tangled in a heated embrace.

It was quiet now, the storm now seized, and Belle could clearly make out the sound of the heartbeat pressed against her ear.

She eased back some, lifting her head to look at the sleeping face of her employer.

Her face further heated when she looked down to see their unclothed chests touching.

She croaked, sitting up to cover herself as their tied coats slid down to their waists.

Rumple stirred, opening his reptilian eyes. He tensed when he saw Belle staring at him, not necessarily in disgust but just in confusion.

“I…I um…” he stuttered, his body warmer than it’d been in over a day.

“You’re doing better,” she pointed out, not meeting his eyes. “The spell must have worn off.”

“Mostly, yes.” He concluded. “And it would seem as if we’re safe from the Snow Queen.”

“Good,” she nodded, looking around the calm cave until her eyes landed on their tied jackets.

“You saved us?”

The Dark One bristled, “I think you’re dehydrated.”

Belle smirked through her exhaustion. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a hero in you after all.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Very dehydrated.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure we can remedy that soon enough. Do you think you can get us out of here?”

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “I’m not sure. I used so much magic fighting off the curse.”

Belle nodded, glancing out the mouth of the cave into the snow. It was so beautiful after the storm, but the cold was still their worst enemy. Belle wasn’t sure if she was willing to strip down further tonight if they were out her another night.

Her heart leapt when she saw something – or someone – moving in the distance.

“Rumple,” Belle gasped. He was at her side in a second, glaring at the figure moving towards them.

“Is it the Snow Queen?”

“I don’t think so. Stay behind me.”

Belle did has he bade for his magic to return.

Whoever it was would be losing a large chunk of their necks if they tried to harm Belle.

The figure stepped in front of the cave, throwing back his hood with a bit too much flair.

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Hatter.”

“Good to see you too!” Jefferson greeted.

“What are you doing here?”

Jefferson smirked. “You missed our appointment, and we got worried,” he pointed at Rumplestiltskin’s partially undone shirt. “But it looks liked it was for a good reason.”

The Dark One hissed and struggled to button his shirt while Belle eased to his side.

“We?”

Jefferson glanced back to reveal the mysterious Dr. Victor Frankenstein making his way up the steep mountain.

Belle gasped when she saw one of the ice sculptures – the dog – tied around his back.

“The next time you want to take a rendezvous, at least leave a note,” the doctor panted as he sat on a rock to rest.

“That’s not what happened!” Rumplestiltskin seethed.

Belle eased past him to greet Jefferson. “We’re both another hour away from hypothermia. Can you get us out of here?”

“Sure,” the hatter winked. “But I’ll have to make a couple of trips.”

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle and Rumplestiltskin huddled closely by the fire, they’re bodies warmed to the appropriate temperature.

They had yet to speak to each other, mainly because the doctor and the hatter would not leave them alone for a single second.

After giving Belle a quick checkup (Rumplestiltskin had forbade him to touch him, much to the doctor’s disappointment) Dr. Frankenstein had to work examining the frozen dog he’d confiscated from Arendelle, trying to chip off some kind of sample but failing miserably.

“That thing better not melt on my table!” Rumplestiltskin shot at the doctor.

“Fear not, Dark One,” the doctor sighed tiredly. “Your baubles are safe.”

Rumplestiltskin growled and turned back to the fire, sparing a glance at Belle.

He wanted to tell her so much, to thank her and apologize and anything he could so she didn’t look so cold when she looked at him.

Jefferson was sitting at a chair at the great table, his attention back and forth between the Dark One and his maid and the doctor.

This was…different. He knew of course that the most powerful sorcerer in the land had a soft spot for the bookish, clumsy heroine, but he hadn’t realized it was this intense.

Since Belle had come to stay with Rumplestiltskin, his visits had become less about business and more about company. He loved the playful bickering they shared, loved that his business acquaintance actually seemed happy.

Jefferson was a helpless romantic, yes, and right now the light of his interest was threatening to fall into shambles.

“Belle…” Rumplestiltskin began quietly to avoid scandal from the two men in the room.

She glanced his way but remained quiet.

“Thank you for what you did for me…”

Belle nodded, sipping her tea wordlessly.

“And…I’m sorry,”

Belle paused, as did the two spectators behind them.

“I didn’t mean to put you in danger or to lie to you,” He said. “And I’m sorry about your book.”

Belle lowered her cup, grief threatening to crush her.

“It was my mother’s, and the first book she ever read to me.” Belle said.

Rumplestiltskin smiled lightly but noticed the way her eyes were glassing over.

“The day the ogres attacked my home, I went back to get it,” she said. “By the time I got back to mother, the ogres had come. And then…”

Belle gulped and wiped the tear from her eye. “I thought for so long that if I had just left it behind, we could have gotten out sooner and maybe she’d alive. But then it was all I had left of her, the only reminder I had that there are heroes in this world and maybe I could be one.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “She’d be so proud of you, Belle.”

Belle scoffed.

“No, she would,” he assured. “You saved me, and made a grand sacrifice to do it. If that’s not a hero, I can’t imagine what is.”

Belle smiled, grateful. “And you saved me too. You can be a hero too Rumple, you just have to believe in yourself.”

Rumplestiltskin looked away, the weight of her words weighing into him.

Him, a hero…

The doctor cleared his voice, pulling them from their heart-to-heart.

“I think I might be able to make some progress on our friend here,” he said, placing a hand on the dog ice sculpture. “But I’ll need to take him back to my lab for further examination.”

Belle and Rumple rose to meet the doctor at the table, who handed them his stethoscope.

“Listen,” he instructed, placing the metal part to the dog’s chest.

Belle listened first, her eyes widening as she handed the device to Rumplestiltskin.

“It’s…”

“A heartbeat.” Rumple concluded, meeting Belle’s brilliant smile.

“They’re alive, it would seem,” the doctor theorized. “As to how to revert them to their original state I cannot yet conclude.”

“It’s magic,” the Dark One pointed out. “It’s not exactly something you can solve.”

The doctor glared at him, but Belle stepped in the way to keep a fight from breaking out.

“How about I make us all dinner,” she offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Jefferson chimed in, taking his legs off the table. “I saw some strawberries on the way in. I’ll make tarts!”

“You can cook?” Belle asked.

“…I can put things in a bowl.”

The doctor scoffed in disgust. “Cooking is a science, hatter. I’ll handle any baking.”

Belle and Jefferson exchanged an amused look before the lead the red-faced doctor to the kitchen.

She stopped just outside the entry way, turning to Rumplestiltskin who was watching them whimsically.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He nodded solemnly. “In a moment.”

Belle smiled, heading to the kitchen.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, gripping the edge of the table as he struggled to sort out his thoughts.

He cared for her. He’d known this for some time now, but now things had gotten much more serious.

He was falling for her, and he had no idea what to do.

He glanced over to her bag, now dry from its night soaking in snow. Glancing towards the kitchen, he grabbed the bag and sorted through its contents until he found the small unburnt corner of Her Handsome Hero.

In a flash he was in his tower and placed the piece in a bowl along a special ingredient: a small, magical silkworm he’d been saving to rebuilt series of ancient scrolls.

This was more important.

He placed it with the book and smiled as it immediately set to work. It’d be a few days until Belle’s book was fully restored, and he’d have to find a subtle way to surprise her with it.

But there would be time for all that, there’d be time for everything.

Satisfied, he turned away from the bowl, making his way down the tower stairs to join Belle and the others for dinner.

[northernxstories]

Trading in Dignity

It was shocking how quickly it all came to an end. It started in the 2020s and within a decade, after the third global pandemic, they were faced with the worst yet. All the science deniers, those who refused to distance, wear masks and all of that ... well, most of them caught it. Some of them caught it without showing a single symptom. That didn’t matter because approximately eight months after you were infected, after you thought you were all well again, your lungs started to bleed. Nothing could make it stop. You drowned in your own bed, at night, sometimes in mere minutes. Most of the time, you just went to sleep and never woke again. It was grim.

The survivors were rare and the disease progressed so quickly, institutions fell almost overnight. Whole cities became ghost towns. Survivor teams started sweeping, looking for children, infants, pets trapped in houses and then supplies. Survivors came first. There were a lot of supplies. Not that many people.

She was rare and she knew it. Immune. How? No idea. Luck? Genetics? It didn’t matter at the end of the day. The world grieved and cities were abandoned for smaller communities. It wasn’t like in the horror movies or post-apocalypse fiction. No one ate people, bought and sold people, or any of that ridiculousness. For the most part people tried to help one another. Older people banded together to raise the children who survived. With the population reduced in the span of a decade to less than a third, it became very clear that every single human was a necessary addition. Funny how prejudice and differences in sexuality mattered a whole lot less when the end of the human race was at stake. All that shit became real irrelevant real fast.

In a spate of particularly weird coincidence, some communities lost more of a certain type of people. The east coast of North America for example had nearly no men left. It was startling, You could travel for days, scout many towns and communities and find less than a dozen males. West of the Rocky mountains however, the opposite was true. The average was 1 self-identified female to 20 self-identified males (like people were checking - get real). Some communities the ratio was more like 100 to 1. In the mid-west, prairie region, well there was almost no people left there at all. No one knew why they were so hard hit but the coasts survived. Perhaps it was just population distribution. Scientists would be studying it long after she was dead.

So, in a world where you lived with almost 100 men in your community and the number of single women could be counted on one hand, and you wouldn’t need every finger? Yeah. This was fantastic. 

Again, it wasn’t like the books though. She wasn’t chained, or bound or really mistreated in any way. Nope. None of that.

She was a strong survivor. She had a thriving garden and a number of animals of her own. Her house was cute as hell and in really good shape. Her grandmother had taught her to sew and the rest she learned from books. The little town was powered by a local dam that kept the predatory animals such as the dog packs, at bay with electrified fencing in key areas, including around her goats whom the wolves thought looked super yum yum.

But even she needed supplies. I mean, was she going with a raiding party into a city to get tampons and advil? Ummm ... no obviously. That was terrible. That’s how people died! Those places were not safe. It took rigging and expertise she did not have to be on a scavenger team. Plus do you think they would be cool having one of the few women in town go out with them? You’re dreaming if you think that’s gonna happen buddy and no one went without a team. That was a fucking death wish.

So, she had to shop. She had to trade. Fact of life. They didn’t want her tasty preserves or baking. Nope. That they could do for themselves. She traded the one thing that few had around her - her pussy. Fucked up right? 

Prostitution was the oldest game in the book for a reason it turned out. So she went into the store and put in her order for supplies that she needed. Flour, tampons, books for example. There was a tally and a calculation conducted. She was a modest girl. It rarely went above two visits. Then there was a jar. Yup. A fucking jar, with names on it. Men who had paid into the credit system. 

“One” The merchant stated bluntly marking it in his book. 

“One?” She repeated, a little surprised by how light the requirement was. Her list had been pretty long.  

“Yeah, Bernice fell pregnant, she’s off the list until after and maybe permanently since the Bennett brothers are putting serious court to her. All remaining traders just had their value go up.” 

That’s what they called them - traders. Like she was wheeling a cart through town with little jars or something instead of letting men cum in a minimum of two holes per trade. It was awesome. By the way, that was sarcasm in case you can’t tell.

“Nice.” She replied with a nod, “I hope the baby is healthy.” That was the customary statement these days when anyone fell pregnant. You see, the virus didn’t exactly go away and infant mortality was high as fuck. It was depressing as hell. She didn’t know a single woman who didn’t half dread getting knocked up, even if they really wanted to be a mother. It was a huge risk and all too likely to end in just more painful loss. Yay for survival.

“We all do.” the merchant stated sincerely as he pushed the jar toward her. Sliding her hand in, she let slips of paper, card stock that was refreshed so often you couldn’t get a feel for any one particular person, just dance through her fingertips. You just had to stick your hand in and pray to whatever god you might actually believe in that you didn’t get one of the gross old coots who thought bathing was fucking optional. Last time she had one of those she had about forty baths and still felt disgusting.

She pulled out the card and took a deep breath before flipping it over. Both her and the merchant looked surprised. “Well good luck there. Didn’t even know he paid in.” The merchant marked his book and then nodded. “I’ll get your order in as soon as ... you have about four days before you’ll have had to pay up.” 

That was another thing, the man had to confirm you had ‘paid’. However, if that man lied, he was off the books permanently. Not only that but the other men in town usually paid you a visit and beat the holy hell out of you. It was an honour system true but most followed the rules, out of honour or out of necessity, it didn’t matter at the end of the day. Men who might only get one fuck a year with a ‘willing’ woman weren’t about to lose the privilege because you decided to get fucking cute about it.

“Thanks ... Have a good day now.” She replied with a sincere smile. The merchant was a good man after all. He never put his name in and if he found out one of the men was cruel or unkind even, he’d return their credits and tell them to start getting real used to the sweet feel of their left hand because that was about all they were getting from now on. 

She walked through town, that name flipping through her mind. It was just so unexpected. 

Well no time like the present she supposed. She had had a bath last night, given the old cunt a tidy and all that. She had a debt to pay and she just knew she wouldn’t sleep right until it was paid off good and proper. Yes, it was a little fucked up but that was the system and she had lived with it for a while now. Strangely you kinda got used to it. Most men were pretty appreciative about it. 

Walking down the main street, she noted the weird combination of old and new that had blended together in this world. Cars jerry-rigged with solar panels to charge the batteries travelled on the same road as horse-drawn carriages. Kids wore sneakers cause there were still plenty of those left in old stores but paired them with clearly homemade clothes and then spiked them with leather jackets kitted out with studs and chunks of cell phones used as artistic decoration.

She walked until she hit the slight outskirts of the main town area. She could see him now, his arm lifting as he pounded the steel into shape with a large hammer. Farriers, blacksmiths, knife-makers, welders and so on made a nice living in this new world. You could always tell who they were because they smelled like fire and had arms the size of her entire body it seemed. She licked her lips and straightened her back. For the first time in well over a year, she had to admit that she might just be looking forward to this one.

“Hey ...” She greeted. He put down the hammer and shifted up his eye protection, squinting at her in the bright light of day. “Hey.” He replied back, his voice a little gruff. “You looking for something?” He asked.

“Ummm ... pulled your name.” Turns out all the cool things she was saying in her head since pulling his name had just fallen right on out of her brain. Well I wasn’t cool before, she thought bleakly with a tinge of amusement, Guess I’m not now either. Maybe the next apocalypse.

He stopped, frowning lightly as if he wasn’t sure what she was talking about and then his expression cleared and his eyes grew wide. “Oh.” he said. It was actually more of a sound. He cleared his throat. “I ... I  ... yeah. Now?” he queried.

When she nodded, “If you have the time. Otherwise ... I can come back.” I can come back. What the hell, was she Uber Eats? What the fuck is wrong with her?

He shook his head, “Now is good.” He tipped his head toward the interior. “Let me shut this down a bit and then I’ll wash up and be in.” 

He seemed nervous. Why did she like that so much? Maybe she was bored of the older guys who just had you bend over or would just unzip when they saw you coming. No effort man. No fucking effort. Literally. Wham bam, you’ve paid for your groceries Ma’am.

Mr. Muscles here better put in some damn effort at least.

[bottomlwjrights]

MO DAO ZU SHI REREAD:Thoughts™️....and Stuff

Chapter 40

“They should’ve been able to talk, to say who they were, to shout for help. However, the awful thing was that somebody had cut all of their tongues off before this.” In case i havent said it enough, i hate Xue Yang!!!!

I dont have anything funny or witty to say, this whole situation is just sad

“She instinctively hated him and refused to settle. And so, whenever Xue Yang went out night-hunting with Xiao XingChen, she’d secretly follow them. Even when they were in the same house, she didn’t lower her guard.” She lived constantly on guard for, what, years?

Nobody told xxc stories when he was a kid, which I believe to be a crime

The first disciple to leave the mountain, YanLing DaoRen, was an excellent and renowned cultivator, but suddenly became a villian for some unknown reason and died under thousands of swords, according to xxc (parallels wwx a little)

“‘The second disciple was a girl and also very outstanding.’ Wei WuXian’s chest felt warm. She was ZangSe SanRen.” 🥺

“How would an outstanding and beautiful cultivator settle on a servant. This story’s so cliche. It’s probably made up by some poor scholar.” Oh little A-Qing... (wait this mirrors lwj and wwx’s love story, except of course the death part, because in my eyes they just cultivate to immortality and live happily ever after, together forever)

Shut up, wwx, you’re not a villain

Xxc describing sl makes me uuuh wanna cry “A very good friend of mine.” “A sincere man of noble nature.”

Shut the fuck up Xue Yang, no body cares

SHUT UP XXC CARRIED A-QING TO BED THATS ADORABLE 🥺 BIG BRO XINGCHEN EVEN TUCKED HER IN

Shut up!!!! He went and got her candy!!!! And then gave her candy everyday!!!!

Sl said to A-Qing the exact same the xxc said to her, like almost word for word... hold i...

Also note that wwx said they must have been very good friends to be so much alike 

Why did he hesitate???

“Song Lan answered straight away, ‘His height is similar to mine. His appearance is rather fine. His sword is carved with patterns of frost.’” Dont ask why this drove me crazy 

Sl was looking for xxc for years....

“For some reason, Song Lan’s face was extremely pale. He stared at the door of the coffin home, as if he would rush inside if he could, but was too scared to do so.”

“The instant he heard the [xxc’s] voice, Song Lan’s hands trembled so much that A-Qing could clearly see it.”

Sl was so angry his entire body was shaking

Xy is disgusting

After the attack of Baixue temple, while injured, sl said some nasty things to xxc....sounds alot like the aftermath of Nightless City....

“Who was the one who said ‘from now on, we won’t need to meet again’? Wasn’t it you, Daozhang Song? He listened to your request and disappeared after he dug out his eyes for you, but why have you come to him now?” Shut up shut up shut up

Fuck Xue Yang!!!!

“Song Lan looked down at Shuanghua’s blade, which penetrated his heart, then slowly looked up again. He saw Xiao XingChen, who calmly held the sword.” Im gonna cry

“Slowly, Song Lan fell to his knees before Xiao XingChen.” Yup im crying

“At such a time, if Song Lan passed his sword to Xiao XingChen’s hands, Xiao XingChen would’ve immediately known who he was. He’d be able to recognize the sword of his closest friend with just a touch.” He would have known sl’s sword by just a touch....

Sl didnt pass his sword to xxc so that he didnt have to bear the burden of knowing he killed him.....

“...large drops of tears rolled from her eyes. Although she was scared, A-Qing reached out to close Song Lan’s eyes. She then kneeled in front of him and put her palms together, ‘Daozhang, please don’t blame me or the other daozhang.’”

She kowtowed in front of sl’s body....

A-Qing is smart and quick witted, pulling such a fast lie like that

“Cut a few dozens of times on her face so that she’ll never have the guts to go outside again.” 😧

How xy can say something like that and then offer up a plate of bunny shaped apple slices that he cut himself is beyond me

“Looking at the plate of cute, delicate slices, disgust filled both A-Qing’s and Wei WuXian’s hearts.” Yeah me too

(Chapter 41 & Chapter 42 below the cut)

Chapter 41

A-Qing didnt wanna tell xxc about sl...

“The blood grew more and more and eventually leaked through the bandages, trickling down from where his eyes once were.” God he’s crying ....

“Originally, the injury of his eyes would bleed whenever he had excessive thoughts or emotions, but it hadn’t recurred in quite a long while.” I hate this

“...after Xiao XingChen managed to calm down, he told A-Qing, ‘A-Qing, run away.’” I hate this so much

“I can’t go. I need to find out what exactly he’s trying to do...If I left him here alone, I’m afraid that the people of Yi City would sink into his hands.” Y’all gotta stop with this selfless,self sacrificing, being a good caring person shit man, its okay to save yourselves sometimes

“A-Qing’s sobs weren’t faked anymore. She tossed the bamboo pole to the side and clung to Xiao XingChen’s leg...”

“Xiao XingChen asked coldly, ‘Was it fun?’ Xue Yang took another bite into the apple that was still in his hand. He only replied after calmly chewing for a while and swallowing the fruit, ‘Yes. Of course it was fun.’” I hate him

Even the idea that xy did all this because he was bored...

“My finger was my own, while those lives were other peoples’. They wouldn’t be equal no matter how many lives I killed. It was only around fifty. How could it have possibly been equal to one of my fingers?” I cannot even begin to express my disgust...

This is all so sad....

“… Is that you, ZiChen?”

“Even if the two swords had just clashed, Xiao XingChen should be able to tell who the other was from only the strength of the attack...He turned around slowly and reached out a quivering hand, feeling for the blade of Song Lan’s sword.”

“… ZiChen… Daozhang Song… Daozhang Song… Is that you…?” Im crying again

And he’s crying nonstop

“… What happened…? Say something…”

“Xiao XingChen stood blankly in front of Song Lan. Putting his hands on his head, he wailed as though he was ripping his chest apart.” I cant handle this shit im about to stop reading

Fuck you, Xue Yang

“At this moment, Wei WuXian saw himself in Xiao XingChen. Him, who failed miserably as he stood drenched in blood, who couldn’t do anything except silently acknowledge the critiques and accusations, who was wholly beyond hope, who could only cry in despair!” Yeah i didnt need that in the middle of all this

“He could only whimper in pain, ‘Please. Let me go.’” Im really going through it

They all died in such horrific ways

Thank goodness thats over!!!!

Chapter 42

Wwx really implied that xy killed Chang Ping as revenge for xxc huh....wow no

Even in death, A-Qing is brave. Thank you for your contribution in ending that mf

Lwj cuts off xy’s arm when he reaches towards wwx

There was so much blood on the ground that wwx almost slipped in it, gross

Lmao i didnt think lwj would be the one to just toss a pouch to someone but here we are

Wn just squatting on the ground, chillin

Okay yanno what im still confused as hell as to why the juniors were lead to yi city...

God that makes me so angry, Xue Yang keeping the piece of candy for years and holding onto it when he died, like even the idea that he liked xxc and still decided to torture him to death good lord

“Lifting up the hem of his robes, Lan WangJi stepped over the high threshold in an elegant manner, then nodded.”  Wwx just looks at lwj do literally anything and is just like “he’s so elegant 😍 so graceful 🥰 look at my lan zhan, so pretty 🥰😍🥰”

“When he wakes, say I’m sorry, it wasn’t your fault.” Wow....

“He still wore the dark cultivation robes. Standing alone, he carried two swords, Shuanghua and Fuxue, he brought two souls, Xiao XingChen and A-Qing, and walked another path.” Wow.... i wish for you the best, Song Lan

Lsz standing and wondering if xxc and sl would ever meet again....

I agree with jl, death is too light of a punishment for xy

Lmfnck ljy cried the loudest out of everyone sjnckck

The juniors light incense and burning paper money for them 🥺 they’re so sweet

ItS nOt lIkE yOuVE DiEd HoW wOuLd YoU KnOw iF DeaD pEoPle ReCiEve PaPeR MonEY

PLEASE WATCH YOUR MOUTH JINGYI

“How come? Was I really that much of a failure? Was there not a single person who burned paper money for me? Was it really because nobody burned them that I didn’t receive any?” STOOOOOP

“Looking at his calm face, Wei WuXian thought to himself, Really? Had he really not burnt anything?!” Okay i don’t remember if he actually did or not but nonetheless this shit hurted

The hunter was probably the same person who lead them together to yi city with the corpses, BUT WHY THO

Awwww wwx happy to see Lil Apple

Stop teasing jl, wwx, its not nice

Even though the lookout towers are a good idea, and benefit smaller more remote towns, i cant help but wonder if there was some kind of ulterior motive behind them

“Almost all of the dishes were covered in red. Paying attention to Lan WangJi’s chopsticks, he notes that he ate mostly from the milder dishes, rarely the bright-red ones. Even when he did, his expression remained the exact same. Wei WuXian felt something tug at his heart.” uGGgGgGHhHhH 

[mwub]

Etched in Stone

Chapter 1: Celestite

Sorry for taking so long, I’ve been moving and have limited internet access so I’m not online as often as I would like😅.

Anyways this is the first chapter for my multi fic Etched in Stone, thank you @ineffable-nalu for beta reading it, it gave me some ideas how to progress the story better

Without further ado~

——————————————————————————-

“Mama!”

“Yes dear?”

“Can you tell me our story?”

“Lucy dear, you've heard that story what must be a thousand times. Are you sure you want to add another to that tally?” A regal blond woman laughed at the expense of her now pouting daughter. The little girl greatly resembled her mother both in bearing and in looks. Golden blond hair framed her round but not too round face, a light dusting of freckles crossed the bridge of her button nose underneath large chocolate brown eyes, now sparkling with wonder as her mother began the story.

“Long ago,” Layla hummed, tucking Lucy deeper into her bed. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “There was nothing, no animals, no plants, no people to call Earthland home. For Earthland did not yet exist. And then one day the sun and moon, who loved each other very much but could not be together began to cry for they were lonely and wanted to share what they have with others. From those tears came life.”

“When the moons tears fell, so did the stars, oceans formed and moved to the moons silent songs. When the suns fell, volcanoes reached high up for the heavens in hopes of one day meeting the stars.”

“Get to the part about how real life formed mama”

“I’m getting there sweetheart” Layla laughed in reply.

“When the volcanoes split the earth, so did the ocean in response, creating lakes, rivers, and streams. And in some areas so cold the oceans becomes living stone.”

“ But it was not enough for the Sun and Moon, for they wanted more. They wanted children of their own. So in desperation they shed more tears and breathed life into the environments of their own creation. From the sea the first mermaids and mermen sang their first songs. From the stars came the first celestial priests and priestesses. And from the volcanoes came…”

“Dragons” Came an excited squeal from underneath a mountain of blankets.

“Uh huh, from the deep depths of volcanoes came Dragons. Now, when the Sun and Moon formed their children , they warned them that they must not consort with humans, for it will bring disaster. The creatures of the sea and stars agreed but the king of the dragons did not. He believed one should love who they wanted and did so anyway.”

Lucy clutched her dragon plushie tighter in anticipation.

“The Sun and Moon grew angry with the dragon and so cursed him with his disobedience. Never to be seen again”

“Whatever happened to the rest of the creatures, mama?”

“Despite obeying the Sun and Moon, the others were punished as well for fear of rebellion. Their powers locked away in the stones for which they were born, serving as relics to a great betrayal. Living as ordinary beings amongst the humans they were told to fear.”

Lucys eyes began to droop as a deep yawn escaped her, sleep taking its toll. Layla smiled lovingly at her daughter, reaching to wind a small music box on her bedside, delicate music tinkling gently.

“What do you think happened to the Dragon mama?”

“ Well I would hope he’s found peace, one who loves too much shouldn’t suffer forever.”

“Good night my Darling... “ Was the last thing Lucy heard before letting sleep take her.

———————————————————————

“What do you mean you don’t have any of those kinds of books?”

“We sell fact not fiction mam, as I’m sure you are well aware of that by now miss Heartfilia.” A flat voice drawled in reply, timbre as dull as the face making it.

19 Year old Lucy Heartfilia couldn’t believe it, this was the third town she had visited that refused to sell any of the old lore books, believing them to be blasphemous to the sacred teachings of Zentopia. She had really hoped that Hargeons famous library would be different but no such luck.

Oh well, time for good ol’ plan T.

‘Are you sure there isn't any dusty old books hidden the back~” Batting her eyelashes with gusto, leaning onto the counter, giving the store keeper a peak at her generous cleavage.

“A-Absolutely not! For the last time miss, no one carries that type of literature anymore, the church ordered their burning years ago.” The old man blustered with a face as red as a Roma tomato. “I couldn't sell you any even if could get my hands on a tome”

“Now get out”

“Stupid old Geezer’ Lucy huffed outside the shop now, refitting her paperwork back into her leather satchel and straightening her dark blue tartan skirt and white button down blouse topped with a adorable black vest. She had even dressed the part too, a scholarly student researching for a history project. What a waste of time, Another day, another bust.

Oh right, I forgot to introduce myself didn't I? My name is Lucy Heartfilia, daughter of Layla and Jude Heartfilia, Jude being a local bank owner and Layla a seamstress, at least they were until the economy crash 13 years ago. Jude died of a stroke from over working and mama… let's just say fate had other plans for her. I’ve essentially been on my own since I was 15, with only a few belongings of my own I've been on my own ever since.

Taking out her notebook Lucy couldn’t help but sigh, there goes Hargeon off her list, uncapping her marker to cross it off. At least that’s what she was trying to do when life hit her with an unexpected surprise. A pink one in fact.

Before she could even put the tip of her permanent marker to the paper she suddenly was shoved to the hard concrete, black ink streaking across her cheek in a zigzag. Oh NO, her makeup was completely ruined.

Rising up on her elbows to give whatever hit her a piece of her mind Lucy was stopped short by something extremely odd. No, not something. Someone.

As her vision cleared she was confronted first with dark, almost black green eyes inches from her own chocolate ones, and even more oddly. Salmon pink hair sticking up in a messy disarray of spikes all over his head, almost seeming intentional in its unruly chaos.

Next was the alarmingly warm hands on either side of her waist, breaking the fall of what Lucy now realized was a boy perhaps her own age. Lucy could say for a matter of fact he was good looking, decently built with a muscular physique comparable to a pro athletes and a perfect tan to boot. Yes, definitely cute.

Lucy didn’t get to ponder for long as the stranger then suddenly jumped to his feet with surprising agility, his hands bringing her up with him in a rush that had her head swim a little dizzily. One hand on her waist and the other holding her own limp hand.

“Watch where you’re walking weirdo, don’t wanna get yourself hurt do you?’ The boy laughed, still holding her a little too close for a stranger to be doing. What’s with this guy?

“Excuse me? You bumped into me, who the heck sprints down the street like that without looking where they’re going” Lucy huffed, her head finally clearing from the shock of her present situation.

The boy only smirked. “Oh I know I where I was going, you just happened to be in the way. What's the point of going somewhere if you don’t know where you’re headed”

“I-I Know where I’m going” Lucy blushed. “I’m going to the Magnolia after I finish my work here.” Lucy finished with a sense of finality,gripping her satchel more firmly, why would he even ask that silly question? Of course she knows where she’s going.

“Ok… well in that case you were walking in the wrong direction. Magnolia isWest, not East of here.” Snickered her mystery boy.

“Oh, well thank you” Lucy coughed a little awkwardly, taking a step back finally to take in his full appearance finally. He really was in excellent shape. Broad shoulders tapered sharply under a black one armed waistcoat trimmed with gold thread, cream trousers held up by a similar colored sash around his waist and a pair of black sandals adorned his feet simply. The collar of his jacket open just enough for Lucy to get a glimpse of toned chest littered with faint white scars.

A bit of an odd outfit in Lucy’s opinion, but for whatever reason it seemed to suit him.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked suddenly, snapping Lucy back to reality.

“Lucy… Lucy Heartfilia” Answering automatically, Lucy cursed herself, she just met this boy and she already felt the need to spill all her secrets. Aquarius would be ashamed of her. Never trust a man with your secrets, secrets are a woman's best hand in a war.

“Thats a nice name,” Pinkie whistled. “My names N-”

“STOP RIGHT THERE! THIEF” A booming voice rang out over the stone courtyard, suddenly dozens of Zentopian royal guards flooded surrounding area.

“Thief..” Lucy whispered, eyes widening slowly.

“Crap” N growled, his Happy Go Lucky demeanor suddenly dropping as he made a run for it, he was practically a blur as he made a mad dash onto a more crowded street and seemed to vanish among the crowds of the local shopping district and boutiques.

“Excuse me miss” A grave looking guard approached Lucy. “Do you happen to know anything about this boy?” Holding up what appears to be a wanted poster of N. Except instead of the seemingly happy guy she just met, she was greeted with the face of a much more menacing looking criminal. Sharp soulless eyes pierced her soul with malice and a cruel sneer curved his lips. She did not know this person.

“No, nothing at all.” Lucy said curtly. Keeping a firm jaw in hopes of not giving anything away. While it was true she didn’t know anything about him, she wanted to. Gripping her satchel more firmly in an effort to stand her ground, she stared back at the guard.

Giving her a hard look the guard finally deemed her innocent enough and thankfully moved on to interrogate more passerby.

Releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding, she bent down to collect some of the papers that had fallen with her unexpected date with the ground, noting that some appeared to be missing or at the very least out of order. She’ll check on that later on the train to Magnolia.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts of pink hair and a fanged grin, Lucy slowly made her way to the train station with vague hopes of catching the last train of the evening. Better luck tomorrow she guessed.

[aimee-does-things]

The Hole Is More Than The Sum Of Its Parts

"The river cuts its way through stone Not through sheer force but persistence At the end of the day the relentless always win" - 311

With our crime spree behind us, we followed the desert sun to our next destination; Arizona, the Grand Canyon State. As a kid I was always jealous of the families like the Griswolds, families that would go on long road trips to all of the national parks and monuments our country has to offer. Oh, how I wished to be in a car with bags strapped to the top, driving from state to state, staying in dozens of roadside motels. I remember asking my mother once if we could visit the Grand Canyon. Her response was, "I've been there before; it's just a big hole." That pretty much sums up her attitude toward most things in life, at least from my perspective. There was never anything worth doing or worth seeing. She had experienced all that life had to offer, and her constant message to me was that none of it was worth exploring on my own.

The very first time I visited the Grand Canyon, I was 19 years old. It was a merciless 114 degrees outside, and I was a spoiled California girl whose idea of a sweltering day was 80 with a light breeze. Our visit was brief; we parked, walked to the first lookout, spent about five minutes there, and then returned to the car to head home. I didn't have enough time to wrap my head around what I saw. I didn't have enough time to let my body adjust to the heat. I left feeling like maybe my mom was right; it was just a big hole. During our drive, I shared this experience with George. I let him know how excited I was to experience it with him, and perhaps this time, see more than just a hole. After nightfall, we arrived in Williams, a small tourist town just south of the Grand Canyon. The faint outline of pine trees lined the dark sky surrounding the Rodeway Inn on the historic Route 66. With taxes, the room was just $61! If you've never stayed at a Rodeway Inn, they're part of the Choice Hotels family, and with very minimal amenities, usually the least expensive. That said, the rooms' quality and style can vary wildly from one Rodeway Inn to the next. Sometimes you'll get a room with comforters that look like they've been there since the 1960s, bathrooms with large caulk-filled gaps in the shower walls, and carpets covered with a solid layer of stickiness. Other times you get lucky, like we did, and have an adorable room with wood floors, modern furniture and lighting, crisp white sheets, and a sparkling, brand-new-looking bathroom. Best of all, there was a parking space right outside our door. The cold mountain winds had picked up, so the warm room, which hadn't had the air conditioning on, felt good. As usual, we settled into the room, sprawling out on the bed and scanning our phones for nearby food. It turns out that if you're hungry in Williams, Arizona after 9 pm, your only option is Carl's Jr., so we took our stale fries and soggy burgers back to our room and watched Impractical Jokers while we ate (something we always like to do while we eat). The following day, with plenty of sunscreen and water, we were ready to spend the day at Grand Canyon National Park. We wanted to have a real breakfast before heading out, so we decided on Goldies Route 66 Diner, a cute, old-fashioned diner with metal walls, red vinyl stools, and lots of crazy crap on the walls. When we walked in, we quickly noticed that the place was packed, and none of the workers were wearing masks, so we immediately walked out. We are obviously risk-takers, but that was too much of a risk. We settled instead for drive-through McDonalds, and I guess they knew I was planning to document this trip on the interweb because everything tasted fresh. We ate our food in the car with cascading mountains in view and watched as birds scoured the parking lot for McScraps. The drive to the canyon was beautiful. Pine trees and mountains lined the road, and the sky was bright blue. The main parking area was crowded with visitors from all over the country. Every car had a license plate from a different state. We gathered our water bottles, put on our face masks, and headed out. The sun immediately beat down upon us as if we owed it money—a drastic difference from the casual 75 degrees in Williams. The area was swarming with tourists taking selfies and Instagram aficionados desperately trying to get that perfect, effortless-looking shot. We, of course, took our pictures as well. Let's get one thing straight; everyone should see The Grand Canyon in person. None of the pictures I took come close to its reality. It's been said that there will never be a picture of The Grand Canyon that truly captures its beauty, and it's because it's not beautiful, it's breathtaking. It is so awe-inspiring that it literally takes your breath away, along with the ability to come up with words worthy of describing it. We walked hand-in-hand along the rim trail until the noise of the crowds faded. We sat for a while, and George told me there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be. Something he would continue to repeat throughout our journey. After walking a bit more, filling our water bottles with Roaring Springs water, and a quick stop at the souvenir shop, we were headed back to the car. We had spent just over four hours exploring the canyon, and it was time to continue our adventure. Initially, we planned to return to Williams to rest before heading to Los Angeles, but since it was just a little past 4 pm, we decided to spontaneously break up the long drive with a pit stop in Las Vegas. As we headed further west, a canopy of clouds gathered in the sky, and the warm sunny day turned into a cool misty evening.

[sassyhazelowl]

Title: Life is What You Bake It Rating: PG - a few swear words, comedic violence Pairing: Lyon x Erza Secondary Pairings: Lucy x Levy A/N: Silly, cute little idea that popped into my head while cruising titles on Netflix. Bakery AU.

Link to Google Docs - Comments welcome and appreciated :)

Chapter 3

Erza hadn’t been sure what to make of the gift Gray had dragged through her door. And dragged appeared to be the right word for it.

The two had been friends since junior high, and Gray always had an odd sense of humor. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect some sort of trick. The man that sat in the doorway with his arms crossed hardly looked like he knew one end of a spatula from the other, and his clothing was way, way too expensive. Not that Erza didn’t approve; she loved clothing and knew all the brands. She had a whole closet dedicated to her love of clothing. And she could appreciate a well-dressed man. But it didn’t show a lot of common sense to come into the kitchen dressed like you were planning to eat in the dining room of the Ritz. 

Glancing around at the kitchen, she realized beggars couldn’t be choosers. It wasn’t like she was a baker by trade. Before inheriting the bakery, she worked part-time here and there at any outdoor job that would take her, as a jack-of-all-trades. Sometimes she’d work two or three jobs at once, just for the challenge. She loved learning new things and being outside in nature and most of the jobs around here were seasonal anyway.

There’d been nothing for it but to roll up her sleeves and learn on the job when the bakery fell in her lap, bequeathed by it’s very elderly owner Mr. Makarov, who retired and moved to Florida. She’d been a cashier and a waitress and a ski instructor and a camp counselor and park ranger and so many other things. How hard could it be to run a bakery?

Quite hard, it turned out.

There were so many things she needed to learn that had nothing to do with baking, and the baking part itself was something she struggled with. Eating her way through every treat she could get her hands on did not prepare her for how much work went into making those delicious morsels.

But quitting wasn’t in Erza’s nature, and she was certain with some hard work she could turn things around.

“Well, I suppose I will see you tomorrow?” she said, still skeptical of the man who spoke charmingly enough. Turning, she saw he’d acquired a cloth from somewhere, stripped off his jacket (and shirt!) and was making short work of all the splatter within arm’s reach. Surprised, she covered her awkward giggle with a cough and asked conversationally, “Do you have a place to stay?”

“The Heartfilia residence,” he answered, moving on to the nearest table, barely sparing her a glance. “Another of Gray’s friends. My brother seems to be quite the popular man.”

“It is a small town. Everyone knows everyone,” Erza bristled, sure he was making fun of her home.

He straightened up seriously, rag in hand absently, “I am sure I will too by the end of the summer. Miss Scarlett, you seem to have an impression of me I am not sure I deserve.”

Curse her wretched fair skin and freckles. Instead of answering in words, she spun to hide her burning face and to stop oogling his muscular chest. Of all the horrible habits to share with his brother, going topless did not have to be one of them! 

“Anyway,” she heard the rag flop down on the table, “I will come back tomorrow morning early. Be sure to either leave the door unlocked or be here to meet me.”

Well, dang it. She’d made him mad. How early was early to him anyway? 8 or 9? Would he even bother to show up tomorrow? It wasn’t any real loss if he didn’t. He probably was a fair baker but poor, struggling Fairy Tail Bakery needed more than mediocre tarts and muffins to survive. It had been flagging under Makarov’s expert hand, and under Erza’s inexperienced one it was drowning.

Without Fairy Heart she wasn’t sure it could go on that much longer.

Maybe that was for the better. 

She could say she gave it an honest try and go back to drifting between jobs. Of course, it’d be a shame. Fairy Tail had been in this town for generations, and there weren’t any good bakeries in the surrounding cluster of small towns either. A chain would probably move in or perhaps someone with more luck than Erza would give it a try. Ignoring the sinking, heavy feeling in her chest, she wondered what Magnolia would be like without it’s bakery. Once this had been a bustling, social hub where people came to gather during the day, the sun to the moon that was Mira’s bar.

“Girl, who was that hot, shirtless guy that just stalked out of here? And what did you do to drive away such a stud?”

Lucy Heartfilia, a charming and plucky blonde, grinned as Erza jumped out of her skin and her sad thoughts. Letting herself behind the counter, she leaned back against the display, looking through the open door to the kitchen.

“That,” Erza remarked stiffly, ignoring the hot and shirtless comment, “Is your new tenant for the summer.”

“That’s Gray’s brother?” Lucy whistled, impressed. “And here I thought it was a fluke Gray was so ripped after all those donuts and Mountain Dews. Guess those boys got some good genes.”

Erza frowned, trying not to think about it. Sure, she saw Gray half-naked all the time, but she thought of him like a dumb little brother. This was definitely different, and it felt very inappropriate. Especially since she had… someone else.

Sorry, Jellal, she said in her head.

Would he even care? Would he be jealous or disappointed she was looking at another guy? Erza wasn’t sure. It hadn’t come up before, and of course, he trusted her, but did she trust herself?

“Why were you looking?” Erza clicked her tongue, really questioning herself and not Lucy. “What would your girlfriend say?”

“She’d say go for it, babe; we need some more eye-candy around here. Not that she’d pay attention herself. Not unless said eye-candy had a well-stitched binding and some sweet, fresh off the press paper smell to it.” Lucy shrugged a my-girlfriend-is-a-bibliophile shrug and waved a book at Erza. “I was just bring over the latest and greatest erotica from our favorite author.”

“You?”

Lucy choked for a moment then laughed, “Our other favorite author. What makes you think I write erotica? I’ll just set this… okay, definitely not anywhere in here. Did you put the mixer on high again?”

“No.” 

Yes. Again. Because she hadn’t learned her lesson the last half dozen times. Why did it even have that setting, if all it did was cause chaos?

Lucy rolled up her sleeves, eyes twinkling with good humor, and snatched up the rag left by Gray’s brother. 

“First things first. You’re done destroying the kitchen for the day. We’re going to clean this mess up then you’re going to take the afternoon off to read this amazing novel and relax. I know you’re worried, but it’ll work out. Levy had a horrible time when she first opened her bookstore because she didn’t know how to order or stock or balance a budget, but now it’s thriving and hiring some employees to help out made a huge difference. Can you imagine Magnolia without it? Little mom’n’pops are Magnolia’s life blood and charm. The tourists don’t come here for Starbucks or Barnes and Noble after all.”

“No. No they do not,” Erza murmured to herself, thinking it a bit eerie Lucy had the same thoughts she had. 

The author was a transplant to the town, visiting on vacation and never leaving. It wasn’t entirely an unheard of thing, but Erza sometimes wondered if it was Magnolia or Levy her friend was in love with more. If anyone in town could be the authority on the charm the town held to outsiders, Lucy would be it.

Erza simply had to trust things would turn out alright. What else could go wrong after all?

[scenarihoes]

if you're still doing them, I'd love a scenario for present mic which has a crush on one of the girls that works at the radio station and one day when he arrives she's there alone singing quiet a sexy songs and he notices how great her voice is and how much sexier she makes the song sound

thanks for the request!!!!!!! this is SO cute and i adore present mic hehehe

LET’S GO!

——-

Birds chirp loudly and soar upon the open sky. The sun has yet to even peak over the towering buildings of the city, stars still dancing among the lightening hues of blue and black. If not for the fact that he’d been up all night the previous evening, Hizashi was sure he’d have taken in the early day, sucked in a deep chestful of breath and smiled on the exhale. In his dreariness he can almost appreciate the serenity but with Aizawa’s grumpy tone resonating from the phone tucked between Hizashi’s shoulder and ear, it’s hard to really let loose.

“Remind me why you woke me up?” He grunts, and there’s the sound of shifting blankets.

“Sorry man! I really thought it would go to voicemail,” A loud lions-like yawn escapes him, feet coming to stop at a very familiar radio-station. “You’re usually almost dead around this time.”

“Whatever. What did you want to tell me?”

“I was just gonna leave a simple little message for you to wake up to.”

“Get on with it, then. I’d like to get back to sleep before tomorrow.”

“Alright, alright,” Hizashi tilts his head and secures the phone even tighter as one hand reaches out, catches the door knob and the other shoves the key hastily into the hole. “We’ve got some new systems in the station and I totally forgot to set the damn things up. I went the entire show last night with old goods Shouta!”

“….And?”

“Aaaaaand,” Hizashi stills and shuts his eyes, bracing for impact. “I won’t have time this week to set them up so I’ve gotta get it done before everything else today...” He pauses and shuts his eyes with a cringe. “...I don’t think I can make your coffee run…”

A loud, irritated groan nearly makes him shudder so hard the phone drops. Even though Aizawa can’t see him, the edges of his lips flick upwards in a sheepish smile.

“Come on, man! I can do it tomorrow!”

“I need it today.”

“Wait one more day,” He yowls, shoulders slumping. “I can do it tomorrow, buddy!”

“There’s no point tomorrow when I wanted it today.”

“If it’s so important than why can’t you go get it!”

“Ugh.”

The line falls dead and Hizashi blinks forward at the station door. He doesn’t know if he should be surprised or not- after all, he had told his friend he’d go out and get some of that weird coffee he likes from the store downtown while he was out and about, but to set up the new systems, he knows it’ll throw a pretty hefty wrench in the order of his plans. He’d never make it across town in time with everything else he’s got going on. Three jobs and a week full of errands doesn’t come cheap, after all.

As he shoves the phone into his pockets, a sigh escapes him. Oh well, he’d make up for it some other time. He’d buy double the amount and deliver it to his friends door, practically bust the frame down if there’s no answer. Or maybe he’d just shout Aizawa’s name from outside until the man wanted to knock him out. The usual routine.

The first thing he notices when he pushes the door open is the most obvious: the sound of music. It’s soft but the station is small enough for it to travel fast. The second thing he notices takes a little longer to set in. Compared to the quality of the days prior, the music reaches him so much smoother than it ever had before. Beats rumble in his chest. Languid notes of an American song he recognizes but can’t quite name yet, the gentle thump of vibrations resonating off the tables and walls. The bass is heavy in the medoly and makes him want to dance, but he’s too curious to give in just yet.

From where he stands in the entrance he can already see there sound boards are nearly doubled in size, a dozen more options to play with and another extra few buttons for cheesy special effects.

Which leads to the third thing he notices. Well, realizes, mostly. A mountain of empty boxes stack outside the utulity closet, and his eyes widen.

The systems are already a-go.

Dots connect within his brain, a few words you’d spoken to him earlier in the week.

“Don’t worry about it, Mic,” You’d said with a beaming grin. Cupid must have come around early, since his heart fluttered in his chest like a bird in a glass cage. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. Let me take care of setting up!”

A long grin worms it’s way onto his lips, barring his teeth. In just a few long strides he’s finding the control center, plopping down on the swivel chair and kicking his feet up atop the small desk beside all the sound switches. His fingers interlock, rest on his gut. He could one-hundred percent take his leave, get his things done and even make his best friends day, but…

Then again, when does he ever get some alone time with you?

The bright ‘off air’ sign flashes vibrant red within the hosts cubicle, a ‘hang in there’ poster hastily taped on the wall. You’d gotten it for him with a grin and who was he to break your little heart? He taped it right on and patted it down, beamed down at the cuteness of your smile.

Waiting turns out to be much more boring than he’d anticpated. That combined with the idea that he was going to surprise you was making him restless. You were likely taking time to gather up the wires from the old systems or packing them into storage, completely unawere of his prescense. He’s happy he came by, even if it meant Aizawa wasn’t the happiest camper alive.

Then, a sudden sound of singing urges his broad smile to falter. It takes him back, the lyrics of the song he finally recognized. You’re not humming like you usually are, or murmuring off-beat tunes to whatever songs he was playing at the time. You were singing, belting out note after note like there wasn’t a soul to witness it. Somehow during his time spent around you, one of his most frequent over-night coworkers, he’d never once heard you sing. Surely you’d heard plenty of his voice, but this was something else. Something he never expected.

Vocal range, high notes and low notes perfectly carried…

“…And I know when that hotline bling, that can only mean one thing…”

You sing the words so softly, no where near upbeat as the original. The way it sounds rolling from your tongue almost feels emotional, if not a tad sensual. In his chair, Hizashi shivers, sits upright and presses his palms to his knees in interest.

Suddenly the utility closet’s door swings open, revealing a flood of dim light and then your figure lingering in the door way. You sway to the beat of the music, eyes half shut in lazy comfort. The tip of your feet meets a box and you nudge it over to clear a path.

“Ever since I left the city you- Got a reptation for yourself now,”

You’ve yet to notice the figure observing you in relative silence. Hizashi’s over the moon and doesn’t even care that he’s likely being creepy just staring.

“Everybody knows and I feel left out,”

He tingles from the tip of his spine all the way down. Never had he thought Hotline Bling of all songs could sound so saucy, especially coming from your lips. It’s almost an opposite to your usually peppy demeaner.

“Girl you got me down, you got me stressed ou- WOAH!”

In that moment he swears he see’s you leap ten feet high. Your clutch yourself and launch backwards, eyes wide, mouth agape, a hot red already painting the tops of your cheeks. Your sudden outburst scares Hizashi as much as his hidden prescense had scared you, and he’s up and moving so quick the swivel chair slams into the sound systems behind him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He cries. “No need to freak, it’s only me!”

“You scared the absolute hell out of me, Yamada!” Your hands find your chest. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“Aw doll, I didn’t mean to.” Now he feels like kind of a jerk. You’d been so calm just a moment ago…

As you brush your hair back and sigh, regaining composure, you look up at him. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I uh-…” He rubs the back of his head, long blond hair that he kept flattened today spilling between his fingers. “I was gonna set the systems up before friday.”

“I thought I told you I had it under control?”

“You did! I totally forgot, sorry! But we’ve got more pressing matters-“ His hands reach out and grasp your shoulders. “You never told me you could sing!”

Ah, there goes that tomato red all over again. You tense in his grasp. “W-Well, I don’t exactly do it often…”

“Whaaaaat?!” Hizashi let’s you go and spins dramatically, hands to the sky. “You should! You’re amazing, I could really feel it in my soul!”

“You felt Hotline Bling in your… Soul?”

“All beacuse of you! You’re spectacular. Why do you hold your voice hostage from the world?!”

Another wave of flush encases you and he can see the way you advert your eyes, bite your cheek and force a laugh. “Um… I’m kinda shy…”

“All the more reason to put yourself out there,” Once more his hands find your shoulders, but this time, he bends down to your eye level. You struggle to meet his gaze. “In fact, you should join me and some of my good friends for karaoke this saturday.”

“But the show on friday...?”

“Who say’s the part has to stop after the show! Catch some z’s and we’ll go crazy all over again!”

“W-What?!” You gawk, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrists. “I-I couldn’t-… Singing along isn’t my thing, sure it’s fun with friends but…”

“You won’t be alone, I’ll sing with you!” Hizashi pulls back and points to himself with two thumbs. “It’ll be a blast! You don’t even really have to sing if you don’t want to, but you should totally come along! It’ll be like some sort of date!”

Upon the dawn of the first second that word leaves his lips, he’s stone. You gape at him.

“I-I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date, m-more like-“ He feels like he’s going to start sweating bullets any minute. “More like a friend date, yknow? Between two friends! Yeah!”

A swift giggle leaves you, and you’re shaking your head. Endearment, he recognizes. It makes him feel cozy on the inside even despite the butterflies beating the hell out of his stomach.

“It’s fine,” You say, but you’re just as shaken as he is. “I-It can be a date. I think it would be fun, even if I don’t sing much.”

“You mean it?!”

“Well, yeah…! It’s kinda hard not to have fun with you.”

“I mean the date! You wanna go on a date with me?”

A giggle escapes you and sounds with the ever playing music in the background. “Of course!”

Hizashi’s world falls right into the place at the exact right moment. Heavens gates split open, angels sing, golden outlines both him and you. His arms, of course, throw over his head in triumphance.

“Yeah!!!!” He cheers. “You gotta sing that song with me, though!”

“Once, and only once.” Cheekily, you glance up at him from your lashes. “… And only if you sing it with me.”

Suddenly you’re pressed flat against his chest, two arms wrapping around you with childlike excitement. You flail but find purchase on holding the back of his shirt, the length of his hair tickling your upper back.

“Alright then,” He sings. “It’s a deal!”