#this and her trying to intimidate amber into silence after she tried to steal the locket and her thinking nina would consider selling it

[fakeosirian]

obsessed with s1 patricia reading nina's diary and getting mad that nina thinks she's mean. what the hell did you expect girl

[friendlylocalwriter]

Chapter 2 of The Quiet Stranger

Pairing(s): Geralt of Rivia x fem!reader

Warnings: None

Requested: No

Prompt: You live a quiet life in the forest with your mother after the fall of Cintra, selling grains and produce to keep enough coins for survival. When your mother leaves for a long journey to the market, you're surprised to meet a white-haired stranger in dire need of help, and even more surprised by how you feel about him.

Word Count: 2916

Chapter: 2/?

Previous Chapters : Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys! I had so much fun writing this chapter, and I’ve already started planning the next one which’ll be much longer and spicier ;) I have a Superman request that I will hopefully be filling next week, and I want to write a Mando fic while we get tortured wait for the s2 trailer to release! As always, reblog + comments are so welcome, and this is posted on my AO3 @/violettaren. Love you guys <33

Geralt slept for the entire day and through the night. 

You weren’t surprised, though. You assume that whatever fight he had gotten into, which he seems intent on not telling you about, must’ve been intense if they were able to get that good of a gash on him. So you let him rest. And, you weren’t averse to stealing a few glances of his bare chest rising while he slept on your cot. You spent the first day of his arrival tending to the garden and trying to ignore how your mother would feel about you housing a stranger in your shack. The guilt only increased when you slept on your mother’s cot, tossing and turning in your sleep as you remember all your mother told you about not letting anyone in. 

You woke up the next morning before him, and rushed to change out of your nightgown. You chose a linen white skirt that hit just above the knee and a long sleeve off the shoulder black sweater that was a bit too thin for the humid Spring weather, but you’d make do. As you take your hair out of your ponytail and attempt to tame it, you wonder why you’re putting so much effort into your appearance, since he’ll be gone tonight anyway. As you pass by his sleeping body, your eyes focus on the gray pendant around his neck and creep forward to try and get a better view. 

A wolf. Interesting.  

You jump when he shifts slightly and immediately move away, not looking to be caught in such a compromising position. As you clean through the cot, you try and rack your brain to see if you remember ever seeing that necklace when you were in Cintra. But, like most things, you simply cannot recall much of anything from your childhood. 

Maybe it’s in the books.

After you glance over to make sure Geralt is still sound asleep, you tip-toe to the back of your shack where a large, old locked box resides. Your fingers toy with the lock and you make sure to get it just in that right position to…

You sigh in relief when you hear the quiet click of the lock opening. You lift the lid and remove the many tablecloths to find what you were looking for - the mangled brown leather journal with your father’s initials inscribed on the bottom of it. Your father, a sorcerer, compiled an anthology of all the monsters and non-humans that he came across, and it was the only thing of his that you and your mother still had. You trace the indentations with your finger, ignoring the heavy pull in your chest. You lock the box again and make your way to the main table, making sure to sit with your back to Geralt. 

It only takes a few moments of you thumbing through the yellowed pages of your father’s anthology to find that same design that’s on Geralt’s pendant, and the words above it scream at you. 

WITCHER . 

Of course. The secrecy, the wound, the swords, the hair . You read through the paragraphs on the page that describe the process of becoming a Witcher, and the effects of it. You can’t tear your eyes off of the underlined portion at the bottom, describing how Witcher’s no longer feel emotions after they consume the mutagenic compounds and complete their grueling training. It doesn’t take a scientist to understand why your father wrote that. He thought Witcher’s were evil.

“What are you doing?”

You immediately shut the notebook and launch out of your seat to see Geralt standing in front of you, his right eyebrow raised and his arms pressing folded over his chest, his biceps bulging underneath the pressure. 

“God, Geralt, you scared me,” you place your hand over your heart as you try and catch the breath that was shocked out of you. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“I wasn’t. What are you doing?” he repeats, unrelenting.

You quickly run through the possible outcomes of what could happen if you tell Geralt that you know he’s a Witcher. Surely, he wouldn’t wear his pendant if he was that intent on hiding his identity, right? But, then again, he could easily kill you if you try and be more invasive than you already have been. I mean, you just read about how Witcher’s are soulless monsters who only exist to take lives. 

You try to think of something, but you remember that you couldn’t lie to save your damn life. With a sigh, you pick up the notebook from the table and thumb through to find the page about Witchers. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you are a Witcher, Geralt?” you shove the notebook in front of you, and Geralt takes it from you, scanning the pages. You fumble with your hands, hoping Geralt didn’t notice how fake the confidence in your voice was. 

“I assumed you already knew. Is it not quite obvious?”

You scoff, surprised at how easy Geralt’s few words made you feel so naive and stupid. You snatch the notebook from his hand and brush past him, walking back towards the box. 

“You could’ve at least told me,” you close the lock with more force than you mean to, eliciting a loud bang as it comes in contact with the aged wood. 

“Why are you so upset?” he asks, and the simpleness of his question makes you even more pissed for some reason. 

“I’m not,” you retort, standing up and away from the chest. “I just wish you told me.”

“Would you have not treated me? Had you known I was a Witcher?”

You turn around sharply and don’t attempt to hide the confusion on your face. Geralt’s face was tight, the same it always was, but his voice was strained and his eyes were narrowed, the bright amber of his irises much more intimidating than they once were. 

“What? No, that’s not - that’s not what I meant. Geralt!” you call him after he walks away from you, grabbing his bag of weapons. He nearly makes it out of the shack completely until you yell his name again and he stops in his tracks. You flinch when he turns around to face you with one of the venomous expressions you’ve ever seen, his golden eyes boring into you. 

“What?” he spits, his mouth in a snarl. “You read that book. That’s what you all think of me, right?” 

You can’t help the tears that begin to pool in your eyes at the venom in his words. No one has ever yelled at you - even when your mother scolds you, she never raises her voice even slightly. You hated that Geralt was so upset at you for something you didn’t even mean. 

“Geralt, I promise you, that isn’t what I meant. I’m sorry,” you drop your head, sniffling. If he was going to leave, you wanted him to know you didn’t think anything lesser of him. You would never do anything like that.

You hear the clink of the bag of metal hitting the floor and an exhale come from the man in front of you.

“Stop crying. Please,” he folds his arms over his chest, and you can’t tell if the statement comes from guilt or annoyance.

“Of course I still would’ve treated you, Geralt,” you whisper, breaking the silence that had fallen. “I- I know what that feels like - to not be liked for something you can’t change. I’d never wish that feeling on my worst enemy.”

Geralt says nothing, his eyes locked on yours. 

“If you wish to leave, I won’t stop you,” you empty your chest, trying to convince yourself that you’re okay with that. “But I want you to leave knowing that. I was just scared, I guess. I have not seen anyone in ages, let alone someone like you - but that isn’t a bad thing. Not to me.”

Geralt still doesn’t speak, but he tears his eyes off of you to sit down on your bed.

“Are you upset with me?”

“No,” he murmurs, wincing as he tries to move without tearing the stitches. “I’m not.”

“Good,” you move forward and crouch in front of him, picking up the bottom of his shirt so you can take a look at the stitches. You look up at him to make sure he’s okay with it, and you take his stoic expression as a yes. You see that the stitches are healing quite nicely, but you also notice the dirt and grime that has gathered around it and on the rest of his stomach.

“When was the last time you bathed, Geralt?” you graze your fingers across his abdomen, cringing at the dirt that gathers under them.

“Bathing is a luxury for me. I do it when I can.”

You kiss your teeth and stand up, shaking your head. “A luxury? Nonsense, it is integral. A basic human right.”

“Well, I’m not exactly human am I?” Geralt counters, and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“If you are implying, Geralt of Rivia, that you do not need to bathe simply because you are a Witcher,” you pause to dramatically sniff him and make a sour face, “Then you are terribly, terribly mistaken.”

“Alright, enough.” he waves you off as you snicker proudly at your joke. “There’s no bath in here anyway.

 “I know a place.”

••••••

 You focus on the crunching of your feet on the leaves as you lead Geralt towards the river that you use to bathe. The moist dirt tickles your bare feet and you move the tall green weeds out of the way as you breathe in the fresh air, letting it fill your chest.

“The air is so clean because of all the trees. I love going back here.”

“Hmm,” is the only response you get from the man behind you. You briefly look back at Geralt with a smile.

“Such a man of few words,” you say after a few moments, your voice low. You’ve begun to not let the lack of detail from Geralt sting, since it seems that he won’t be opening up to you with his life story any time soon. In fact, you found an odd bit of comfort in his presence - somebody who doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with empty talk. So you accept it and make your way to the river with the quietude heavy between you.  

Even though you’ve been to this river so many times, it never fails to take your breath away. The water is a remarkable pale blue color, and it’s so clean that the light reflecting off of it is almost blinding. Old, decaying logs are littered throughout the bank of the river, spotted with green moss. As you get to the end of the worn trail where the rocks leading to the body water begin, you look up at the blush pink early morning sky and bask in the soft hum of various insects. 

“It is nice.”

Realizing that Geralt talked to you of his own volition and not just because you spoke to him., you feign surprise and look at Geralt with an exaggerated face of shock. “Wow, he speaks!”

Geralt rolls his eyes but you catch the smile on his face when he drops his head. A grin involuntarily makes its way onto your face, and you gesture towards the beautiful river.

“Well, here it is. I’ll go back to the garden and come get you later, alright?”

“You’re not going to bathe?”

Your cheeks and chest immediately get hot as you think of the idea of being so close to Geralt in such an intimate position with no clothes on, imagining the water droplets trailing down his chest and onto his-

You clear your throat and try to remember how words work.

“I was, um, just going to bathe after you were finished. So, uh, yeah.”

“Wouldn’t it just be quicker to bathe together? Wastes less time,” Geralt shrugs, placing his bag with his sword on the ground and reaching to pull off his shirt. “And I’m not sure of this road. Wouldn’t want to get lost.”

Huh. I guess that makes sense.  

“Well, only if you’re okay with it.”

“I proposed it, why wouldn’t I be?”

Not knowing what to say, you nod in agreement and watch him peel off the rest of his clothing. When he looks back at you, you don’t have a chance to explain why you were staring before he asks why you aren’t undressed.

“Uh, close your eyes, please,” you ask, toying with the waistband of your skirt.

Geralt laughs, like really fucking laughs, after you say that, but you can’t seem to find the humor in what you said.

“Geralt. I’m serious.”

“Fine,” he says with a chuckle, making his way towards the river and, after testing the temperature with his foot, glides in with his back facing you. Relieved, you take off your top and skirt, deciding against removing your undergarments, which included your underwear and a light tank top. You’re suddenly very conscious of your body and the way that it looks - no one has ever seen you like this. You force the anxiety out of your head and join Geralt in the river, giving him permission to turn around once you’re submerged up until your shoulders.

“Have you still got a shirt on?” he gestures towards the white strap that is peeking out from the water. “Is that not uncomfortable?”

“No,” you shut down any attempt at continuing that conversation, running your hands over your forearms to scrub off any potential gunk. The two of you naturally fell into another silence, enjoying the cool water as the sun started to rise, glaring down onto the river. The silence permeates for God knows how long until Geralt asks you a question.

 “What did you mean earlier?”

“Hm?” you turn at the sound of Geralt’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you know what it feels like. To be judged.” Geralt moves closer to you, causing ripples in the water. 

“Oh,” you sigh, mentally preparing yourself to tell a story you’ve never spoken about with anyone after it was relayed to you.

“My father,” you start after some moments, “He was a sorcerer - he was born with magic inside of him and had no proper training, but he was still incredible at his craft. Instead of working for the royal family, he decided to help the impoverished who lived near our home. He would heal them, mentally and physically, for quite little money. He took a few jobs under Queen Calanthe that granted him the coins to feed us, but that wasn’t where his heart was. He wasn’t interested in pointless politics,” your voice starts to break as you blink rapidly, attempting to keep it together. You notice Geralt’s expression soften, his jaw releasing from the clench it always seems to be in.

“And when Nilfgaard attacked, he didn’t fight. He stayed in burning buildings and ashy rubble, looking for anyone who needed help that wasn’t a priority to Cintra. And when he was found, he was trying to help a young girl whose leg had been caught under steel. He didn’t even flinch when he was struck, he just kept trying. He never stopped, never - it wasn’t in his blood,” your mouth opens to continue but nothing comes out except for a sob that racks your whole body. Your head falls in your hand and you cry and cry, forgetting that Geralt is standing in the water in front of you until you feel two large arms wrap around yours, enveloping you in a tight embrace. You stiffen instinctively at his tight grip, but let yourself melt into his arms and the water, grasping at his biceps. 

“He sounds like he was a good man, Y/N. You should be proud,” he reassured you, releasing his tight grip and lazily running his hands up and down your forearms. You nodded, not wanting to remove your face from the crevice in Geralt’s neck

“I understand the - the pain of loss,” Geralt says quietly, and you look up, expecting to hear more. Yet you see Geralt staring out straight in front of him, his expression unreadable, and you know that’s all you can squeeze out of him. You're okay with that, though. 

"I feel like I've cried more in the last few days than I have in years, Christ," you laugh, trying to wipe the tears off of your face but realizing the effort is futile as your soaked hands make your face even damper. 

Geralt says nothing but he brushes his thumbs across on your arm, and you register that he's still so close to you. You tilt your head up to look at his face and your eyes fall on the red scar on his cheek, the skin around it slightly raised from the inflammation of the cut. You slowly bring your hand up to his face using your index finger to lightly ghost over the cut, tracing the shape. Geralt closes his eyes as you continue running your finger over the left side of his face until the pad of your finger gets to his jawline, and you pull your finger away to point the pad of your finger in Geralt’s face.

“See?” you prompt with a smile, waiting for him to open his eyes. “All clean.”

[parkeraul]

i've no idea lol but something fluff with jet lagged shawn that can't sleep and annoys reader

baby — s.m.

author’s note — i’m gonna try to finish the requests in my inbox during this week, then we can move to anatomy 2 & the series.

warnings — fluff. 

words — 1,308. 

“Have you seen that baby on the seat next to us?”

“Are you still thinking about that baby?” Y/N walks into the room with the towel wrapped around her body, hair in a messy bun and fresh–faced.

“Of course I am!” Shawn squeaks out, laid down in bed with heavy circles in his eyes and hair damp, his arms are under the back of his head and legs slightly parted. “Can you believe she’s only, like, 5 months–old?”

“How do you know that?” Getting rid of the towel in the middle of her way to the wardrobe, she promptly holds her breasts together with one arm as the other one reaches the first drawer.

There’s a moment of silence in the room, where the sound of the orangey–coloured lamps working can be heard by both of them. Shawn is divided between admiring his girlfriend’s body and thinking about the baby on the plane, but Y/N snaps him back to earth by looking back at him with a black underwear spinning around her forefinger.

“You fuckin’ asked her parents, didn’t you?” She tilts her head and Shawn smiles, cheeks reddening and his bare chest gets flushed as well.

“What?” He rearranges himself on the bed, sitting not that perfectly–straight and trying to find support on the headboard with his back pressed against it. His hands rest on top of his middle and his greenish eyes are glued on Y/N. “A man can’t chat with people anymore? It’s only singing and playing and traveling? Oh, and kissing and—“

“Be careful with what you’ll say next,” Y/N stops playing with the fabric on her hand but keeps the forefinger raised, intimidating Shawn. “Otherwise you won’t get it tonight, baby maniac.”

“I am not a baby maniac!” He chuckles as he watches her finally wearing the black underwear, still staring at him with an expression that says ‘oh yeah, nice try!’ as she bends and comes back. “Come on! Do you think I am a baby maniac?”

“You sure have a baby fever,” She answers, turning her back to him as she tries to find something comfortable to sleep on. 

Shawn only rolls his eyes, keeping a wide smile on his face as he admires every inch of the girl in front of him. She’s ridiculously gorgeous, he thinks, with her messy hair from being hours on the plane and the colour of her skin grabbing his attention to the expansion of her back, to her ass, legs and then back up over and over again. Before she can catch it, he grabs his phone from the nightstand and takes a picture of her silhouette being held by the darkness of the room, only amber lights highlighting her curves and illuminating her frame faintly. If Y/N’s gonna let him post it he doesn’t know, but she surely won’t stop him from setting it as his new wallpaper.

“Are you still thinking about that baby?” Y/N mumbles again lowly, dressed in one of his new shirts that practically swallows her completely.

“Nope,” Shawn says popping his p, watching her crawling onto the bed and atop of his body. “Thinkin’ about my baby.”

Shawn takes her in his arms, letting her drop her weight on him and he palms the small of her back with one hand, the other one coming to the nape of her neck where he draws random figures with the tips of his fingers.

“The magazines are right,” Tiredly, she teases him with eyes already closing. “You are Prince Charming.”

He says nothing, just laughs to himself as softly as he can, so his chest won’t move so much and he won’t disturb her.

“Sleepy, are we?” Pausing his caresses, he pulls the blanket over their bodies and quickly returns to his previous spot.

This time, she’s the one who stays silent as she manages to nod positively. Her bun falls and her strands tickle the side of his body, but he couldn’t care less. He wonders quietly how can someone’s hair smell so good, how can someone’s skin be this smooth against his and how can someone look so stunning even exhausted from trip after trip. The warmness of their embrace feels so good that she can’t help but hold his muscular body and relax to the sound of his heartbeat pulsing under her ear, chest stirring weakly with his respiration and fingers playing with her neck so tenderly.

“I think she weighs 17 or 18 pounds,” Shawn murmurs, looking at the ceiling.

“Who?”

“Julia.”

Y/N opens her eyes, frowning at the random information.

“Who’s Julia, Shawn?”

“The baby.”

“Oh my God, seriously?”

Shawn laughs loudly this time and Y/N smiles drowsily and, if she only had the energy to move, she’d bring one hand up to facepalm.

“Sorry, I’ll let you sleep,” He apologises, stretching one arm to turn off the lights.

Carefully, he helps Y/N to fall to her side of the bed and he rolls to the side. He fluffs her pillow, fixing it correctly under her head and he does the same with his, covering more of their bodies with the heavy blanket and holding her waist kindly. In the darkness, Shawn hears her breath calming more and more as his eyes keep open and totally sleepless.

“Do you think Julia is a good name?” He whispers, thinking out loud.

“Jesus!” Y/N mutters almost soundless, twirling under his arm around her waist.

“Jesus? For a girl?” Grimacing, Shawn asks. She giggles, body shuddering lightly as she struggles to find and cup his face.

“Can’t we discuss it in the morning?” Her weak voice comes out raspy, already giving up.

“Sure! Sure,” He shakes his head, his smile and eyes brightening through the dimness. “Sorry, babe.”

Y/N shakes her head too, curling more into him and feeling the temperature of his frame glued to hers giving her a peaceful sensation again. Her eyes are so weary that she can feel they rolling to the back of her head, begging for the rest of her body to shut down after 4 hours traveling back home without at least two nights of serene sleep.

“Wait,” Shawn supports himself on an elbow and lifts his body up a little. “Does that mean you think about having a Julia with me?”

“What?”

“You said we’ll discuss it in the morning,” He insists. “That can only mean you have arguments for a discussion, which means you’ve thought about this before because, otherwise, you wouldn’t have arguments.”

“Really, Shawn?”

“Or do you wanna have… A Jesus?”

“I don’t wanna have a Jesus!” Y/N rolls and stays with her stomach up, rubbing her eyes. Shawn comes closer, never taking his arm off her. “I wanna have a girl, you know that.”

“A-ha!” Shawn cheers, getting her caught.

“But don’t get excited,” She points out, interrupting him and yawning. “I don’t want it now.”

“Well, I don’t want it now either,” He agrees. “But I want it.”

Y/N sighs, grinning with eyes closed and Shawn can clearly see the outline of her lips curling up even though the room is completely taken by the darkness.

“You want it with me?” She asks and he promptly nods, stealing a peck from her lips. “Then let me sleep, so I’ll have patience to stick around long enough for us to make a Julia.”

He chuckles, kissing her lips once more before she turns his back to him and he cuddles with her.

After a few minutes of silence, Y/N moves her hips and feels Shawn growing inside his boxers against her. He starts planting wet and hot kisses on her shoulder, up to the beginning of her neck and then down to the upper part of her arm repeatedly, but slowly.  

“Don’t you wanna, you know, warm up a bit?”

“Shawwwwn!”

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Opalescent Tides - Chapter 6

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

Having woken up only a mere few hours ago, and not having much to do at the house, Amethyst decided to head out to the boardwalk and help out at Steven's lemonade stand. For the most part, that just involved keeping him company, since running a lemonade stand wasn't very busy work -- but at one point, she had to stare down a group of teenagers who were snickering and eyeing his jar of quarters.

"Kids can be such pricks..." Amethyst grumbled once they were out of sight. She glanced back down at the magazine in her lap, flipping to the next page.

"Hey, I'm a kid too, ya know." Steven stuck a tongue out at her.

"Yeah, but you're an exception." Amethyst smirked, swatting a mosquito away from her arm. 

"Oh no!" Steven gasped. "The mosquitoes are out already? That means..." He glanced at his Burger King wrist watch. "It's almost seven! We gotta pack up; Dad doesn't like when I'm late for dinner."

"Alrighty, kiddo." Amethyst pulled herself to her feet. "You make any money today?"

"Yeah! A whole lot, actually! There's probably like... five dollars in here!" he said, placing the lid on the jar of coins and screwing it on tight. "I'm gonna get that new bike in no time!"

"Hell yeah, you are." Amethyst said. She poured the remaining lemonade into paper cup -- there was just enough left to fill it up -- and took a few sips. “Here ya go.” She handed the rest to Steven, who eagerly finished it up.

Steven folded up his little plastic chair and slung it over his shoulder, and Amethyst put the lemonade supplies into the cardboard box he used as his “stand”, and the two of them made their way back to the house.

The sun was still high in the sky, but the chirping crickets assured them that it was night time. A handful of tourists still walked up and down the streets, but less than there had been earlier in the day; and as they turned down the road to Steven's house, there was even less traffic.

“Hey!” a voice called.

Amethyst and Steven both jumped in surprise. They looked around, but didn’t see anyone nearby "W-what was that?" Steven asked, his voice wavering.

"Eh... probably nothing. Let's just go." Amethyst said, urging Steven forward. But then, they heard a thud, followed by the sound of a rolling garbage can.

A tall, beautiful woman emerged from the alley. As Amethyst's eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw that she was tan and muscular, and she had vitiligo, with patches of paler skin on her arms and face. Her eyes reflected a bright golden-amber as she gazed in their direction, and upon seeing Amethyst, her slit-like pupils widened. "What the hell are you doing here?" Jasper hissed, slowly approaching them.

Steven hid behind Amethyst, and the latter clenched her fists at her sides -- though she clearly didn't stand a chance against a woman twice her size, she at least tried to look threatening. "Um, what are you doing?" she responded, her voice cracking. "I don't know about you, but I'm just walking this kid home, and in case you can't tell, you're making him pretty nervous. So can you chill?"

Jasper glared from Amethyst to Steven, and then back to Amethyst. An expression of realization spread across her face. "Of course. I should've expected you to sink this low..." she groaned, shaking her head in shame. "Do you at least know where Pink is?"

"I don't know who or what that is." Amethyst said, reaching back to pat Steven on the shoulder as she heard him whimper again. "Now can you leave us alone?"

Jasper snickered. "Whatever. I knew you'd be useless. Good luck, Amethyst." And with that, she continued on her way down the street.

'What the hell...?' Amethyst thought. 'How did she know my name...?' But she shook it off as she felt Steven cling to her, and gave him a gentle hug in an attempt to comfort him. "It's alright, buddy." she reassured. “Look, we're almost home. That lady was just kinda rude, but she didn't seem like she wanted to hurt us."

"O-okay." Steven whimpered. He clutched his jar of quarters close to his chest as if his life depended on it. He quickened up his pace, his little flip-flops flapping hard on the pavement until they reached the front porch of his house.

* 

As soon as they were inside, Steven barreled straight towards Rose and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Oh, hello!" Rose chuckled, awkwardly patting his back. "You alright, honey? It's not even seven yet, you didn't have to bolt home that fast..."

"Amethyst, tell her what happened!" Steven said, burying his face into his mother's shoulder.

Amethyst blushed. "Oh, uh... There was just some lady who came up to us while we were walking home. She was kicking garbage cans around, and was kinda rude to me... But I don't think she meant any real harm. Steven's just a little shaken up, that's all."

"You were scared, too." Steven pouted. "It wasn't just me."

"Yeah, yeah." Amethyst snorted, patting Steven on the head.

"Well, we're going to be on the safe side, alright?" Rose’s voice was soft and reassuring, and she tilted Steven's head upright so she could look into his eyes. "How about I walk you home tomorrow?" she suggested. "No offense, Amethyst. But I'm probably a little more intimidating than you and Greg combined."

"Nah, I get it. I'm about as threatening as a marshmallow." Amethyst snorted.

"Hah, that’s what I always say!" Greg called from the kitchen.

Talking about marshmallows only reminded her of how hungry she was, so she made her way towards the kitchen and peered into the boiling pot on the stove. "So what's for dinner today, Gregory?”

"Oh, just some spaghetti." he said, pouring the long, twig-shaped noodles into the boiling water. "So... what'd this girl look like?"

"She was tall, buff, had really long blonde hair... Oh, and uh..." Amethyst climbed up onto the counter, sitting near the stove so she could watch Greg more easily. "She talked to me like she knew me. Like, she asked me what I was doing here? And then called me by my name... It was really weird. But I can't remember where I'd have met her before. That said, I barely remember anything."

"Hmm..." Greg hummed to himself as he reached for a wooden spoon, stirring the pot of water. "That is pretty weird."

"Yeah. And then she started asking me about someone named 'Pink'? Or something, even?" Amethyst continued. She picked up a stray piece of spaghetti from the counter and bent it in her hands until it snapped. "Do you know what 'Pink' is? In this context, I mean. Obviously I know it's a color, heh.”

Greg went silent. For a moment, Amethyst wondered if she'd said something wrong -- but his eyes were cast downward, so she couldn't quite read his expression. Then, he let out an exhale, and finally broke the awkward silence. "Maybe, uh... Steven shouldn't stay out as late tomorrow." he finally said. "Could you make sure he's home by five? And maybe he should do his lemonade stand on our street for a while... I don't know if I want him in the middle of town all by himself."

Damn, that was early. Especially for a kid on summer vacation... But she wasn't one to tell Greg how to parent his son, so she wasn't going to question it. Still... His tone of voice changed completely after mentioning the whole "Pink" thing. She was tempted to ask why that was, but... Greg was busy, and he already looked pretty uneasy.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'll make sure he's safe."

* 

"Ughh, this sucks..." Steven whined, burying his face into his arms. "Ever since I moved my stand, sales have been terrible! Can you pleeeease tell my dad I'm not scared anymore?"

"I ain't your mom, so I don’t get a say in this. And I think he's got a good point, anyway." Amethyst said, leaning against a nearby telephone pole. "Besides, it's not just about being scared. If there's shady people walking around town and nobody's nearby to keep you safe, they might try to steal your hard earned money -- or even snatch you up. And you don't want that, do ya?"

"I guess not..." Steven sighed, resting his chin in his hands.

"And you know what else?" Amethyst said. "With your stand closer to home, you won't have to walk as far whenever you need to get more lemonade!"

"Yeah, I guess that's true." Steven smiled a little. "Oh, by the way -- can you bring this to Garnet and Pearl?" He poured some lemonade into two cups, handing them over to Amethyst. "Since they're so close by, I might as well treat them!”

"No problem, kiddo." Amethyst said. She grabbed the lemonade and made her way to the store across the street, pushing the door open with her knee.

"Special delivery!" she announced.

"Oh! Hello there!" Pearl greeted with a warm smile; it made Amethyst’s heart flutter in her chest. Over these past few weeks, they'd only talked every now and then... And she'd tried to forget those little butterflies she'd felt back at the pool party, but every time she set foot in this store and met those pretty blue eyes and freckled cheeks, they came right back and threatened to burst out of her chest.

"I brought you guys some lemonade." Amethyst said, setting the two cups on the counter. "Or, well, Steven sent me over. I won't take credit, heh.”

"Well, thank you very much." Pearl said. She wiped sweat from her forehead -- geez, she felt bad for her, having to work in such a hot store all day -- and took a big sip.

"So, uh, where's Garnet?" Amethyst asked; only then had she realized she was alone in the store, and that only made her butterflies multiply.

"She's on her break right now. But I'll be sure to bring this to her!" Pearl giggled.

"Ohh, gotcha." Amethyst responded. Another awkward silence filled the room as Pearl drank the rest of her lemonade.

"Well... I'm gonna head out, then." she said, turning and heading towards the door. Pearl tensed, and set her cup back down on the counter. "Ah, before you go..."

Amethyst froze. 'Shit. I was so close.'

"I was wondering..." Pearl began, wringing her hands as she stepped out from behind the counter. "Maybe one of these days, we could go for a walk together?" she said. "It probably seems out of nowhere, and I know we don't know each other very well, but... I think if we had a chance to talk, just the two of us... Some things might make a little more sense. It might help me deal with... Ah, it's something that'll take a lot of explaining. And... I-I know we had a rather rocky start, but..."

Amethyst's heart sank down to her stomach. 'Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. She's gonna talk about the mermaid stuff, isn't she?' she thought, glancing down at her legs. When was the next full moon again? Had a month passed already? She wasn't sure, but... She also couldn't think of an excuse to get out of it.

"Um... sure!" Amethyst finally responded, turning her gaze back up to Pearl. "That'd be nice. Just like... a walk through town? Or by the beach?"

"Perhaps the beach... If you don't mind. I find it very peaceful at night..." Pearl said with a sigh of content.

"Alright! Uh... how about tonight?" At least she could be pretty sure there wouldn't be a full moon tonight; otherwise, Rose would have probably mentioned something about it, especially since Steven was involved.

"That would work." Pearl smiled warmly. "Thank you again for the lemonade. Tell Steven it was very refreshing!"

"Will do! Toodles.” Amethyst gave her a thumbs up, and then hurried out the door before Pearl could try to stop her again.

As much as her fear gripped at her chest... the butterflies were still there, too. 'Maybe they're not so bad...' she thought, taking a deep breath before heading back across the street.

[rileyomalley]

Curiosity Kills (A JunkHop Fic)

Chapter 1 cont! Previous Entry: [x] Word Count: 1328 Rating: PG-13 (very lil mention of violence THUS far) Pairings; Roadhog/Mako Rutledge x Junkrat/Jamison Fawkes x Overwatch OC

It didn’t seem like the hog man was going to budge. He was just standing there staring at the woman as she hung desperately from his hook.

The only thing that broke the silence was the sound of someone hobbling over and giggling.

“Well well well, looks like you caught quite the catch eh roadies? Seems like were got a little snoop follow in our trail.”

Hopper did her best to try and look around to see the other man, only a few instances before she had to re-situate on that uncomfortable her hook.

What she did see was a slightly smaller, more lithe individual, donning a grin about a mile wide and amber eyes that held nothing but mischief. Said eyes roamed about her form in a way that left Hopper feeling exposed…

He leaned in a bit closer to her, a look of cartoonist suspicion with a cocked fiery brow.  “Why you sneaking around, Sheila? Awfully strange place for someone like you to be wandering.

Someone like her?  What was that supposed to mean?

“Or you’re looking to get some cash and thought to trail after us, eh? We ain’t so dub to your tricks!”

Hopper just blinked in confusion. Not that she didn’t handle criminal activity on her own, she had no clue who these two men even were - save for incredibly eccentric.

“To be quite honest with you in really not looking for trouble. I was just curious is all and…”

Before finishing her sentence there was a loud burst of static - oh shot, her communicator! Shed literally spaced she was relaying info back to HQ.

"Hopper! Come in agent Hopper! Are you alright? We heard a scream during your transmission. Is everything ok-”

It was cut off suddenly by a massive hand going around her wrist with a yank and crunch! Communications were lost now thanks to the larger man. Her wrist was also wracked with pain by his grip. Hopper looked on, mortified.

“What the hell you do that for you gargantuan jackass!?!” She begun to flail about angrily attempting to kick at him but only bring yanked further and off his chain finally.

His companion huffed scowling. “Now that’s just plain rude, Roadie ain’t done nothin to ya!”

“He literally just BROKE my communicator!”

He just rolled his eyes at Hopper. Wasn't long before that toothy grin had returned, a cacophony of giggles soon to follow. “Oh now we can’t have you give away our location now Lil ..Hippie was it? It really put a damper on our lucky streak right now.”

A resounding sigh came from both Hopper and her captor.

“First of all its Hopper, secondly..I really don’t know who you guys are and-” she made an attempt to wriggle from his grip and kick, to no avail. Goddamnit. Had her wrist not been gripped so tightly, she would probably activate her gauntlets right about now...

Curse that tricky tech that was both handy and unfortunately not always at the ready.

The thinner man gasped placing a hand to his chest dramatically, as if hurt by her words. “You don’t KNOW?? How do you not know the most wanted men across he Australian outback, the most dastardly minds and dangerous criminal-”

“Junkrat.”

The larger man spoke up in annoyance leaving Junkrat to pout with furrowed brow. “I wasn’t even finished yet!”

“Do it later. Sounds like police down there highway.”

Oh thank god.

“Right right..seems you’ll be coming with us then, Hoppah!”

WHAT.

“And WHAT pray tell gives you that bright idea?!”

He just gives a hearty laugh pulling out one of his bombs.

“Unless you’re wantin’ to try a tussle with old Roadhog here, I could always show ya how explosive these bombs are.”

Okay. Fair point.

She would really have loved it kick that damn grin off is face right about now. But that may have to wait as she was hoisted off over the shoulder of Roadhog, Junkrat not too far behind. They were making way to what looked like a large Harley motorcycle with a sidecar attachment. Without question, Hopper was placed in that sidecar like it was nothing, Junkrat squeezing his way into as well. The bike shook once Roadhog took his spot beginning to rev up the engine that...honestly had a nice deep rattling purr.

Hopper grimaced when an arm was slung about her shoulders, looking over at the grime covered junker who grinned in return. “Looks like you'll be sittin' pretty with me for a while, 'til we get back to our hideout. Was sure Roadie was going to stick ya with him up front.” To which only resulted in a low grunt from the hog.

She just groaned, doing her best to play it smart for now and just roll with it, as much as she wanted to shrug off that arm and throw the taller man out of this goddamn sidecar. Watch him tumble and laugh to herself, but promptly being murdered by his partner in crime....probably.

She could totally get away from that situation....totally.

“Not as if I had a choice but hey...” She finally muttered, causing the junker to give a tilt of his head. He pat at her roughly on the shoulder and laughed, pulling her close so they were cheek to cheek. “Awwww lil Hoppah, don't be so grumpy! You're with the best around! We'll take good care of ya!” She could only imagine how well considering his lack of hygiene. She really tried her best not to judge, gently nudging his side. Please give me breathing room you are so goddamn stinky. It only spurred his laughter more. Hopper just groaned, twisting back a bit at the sound of long distance police sirens. Welp, so much for that being her saving grace.

She just settled in, blocking out what conversation the junker beside her was trying to strike up, idly letting eyes wander to the larger man. He was the big, silent type with an intimidating appearance. Seemed usually, not too different than any others she'd seen. She couldn't help but wonder why his ensemble was heavily pig themed.

Guess he liked pigs – that's all that she could gather from it. Kinda cute, she had to admit. Cute and deadly.

“Hoppah!”

She jumped in her seat, bringing her attention back to Junkrat. “Jesus christ, what??”

“I was just askin' how you got your nice legs! They look pretty fancy, can't be cheap. Or you steal em off an omnic or somethin?”

Oh...ah...she didn't realize that he'd been eyeing her omnic prosthetic legs. She curled them a bit together before stretching one slightly with a turn. She looked down at his own. “Oh, these? Got lucky after an accident. My uh...employers were nice enough to sport me with some new legs after an accident I was in.” Junkrat looked to perk up more, curiosity dancing about those wide eyes. “What you do to lose your legs?? You explode em off accidentally? Get em run ovah? I know I had some issues myself with this ol thing. But! I made it better!” He gave a shake of his peg leg, Hopper letting out a low breath.

“Ah...I'll maybe save that story for another time, yeah? Not really a fun or pretty sort of...mmn..”

A low rumble came from Roadhog, catching Junkrats attention before he looked back to Hopper. He sunk a bit in his spot. Ahh...a sensitive subject. He hadn't meant to hit such a spot.

“No worries, mate, you don't gotta tell if ya don't wanna.” He tapped his fingers about his arm, Hopper staring off to the side.

“...but I would love if I could get a closer look at them beauties when we get to the hide-”

“Get anywhere near my legs with those grubby hands and I swear I'll throttle you myself.”