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zappedbyzabka · 9 months

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It's around Prom season/almost past. And got a couple ideas for you. 1. Daniel goes outside after having his break up with Ali and is pissed and sees Johnny smoking an awful blunt, because the poor guy can't seem to roll anything worth smoking. But he's trying. And something Ali said is sticking Daniel wrong, that maybe she was just a convenient excuse between two idiots and he thinks about how angry he's been for months because after the tournament Johnny's left him alone. Which is what he wanted right? But there was something that felt so intimate about their fight about the thrill of winning and seeing the way Johnny had looked at him afterwards, drenched in sweat from the fight and then the irrational anger at seeing him distant at school, closed in by his cobras who still touch him but avoiding Daniel and there he is, alone at prom, and maybe Daniel's a little drunk, maybe a cobra spiked the punch but he's mad and it suddenly clicks seeing that cherry red burn of a comically small blunt around soft pink lips and the soft fluff of his hair that this is what he wanted. Ever since the beach. Maybe Ali was right. Maybe, like Mr. Miyagi said it's best not to leave people waiting too long, and Daniel goes for it, takes the blunt, says let's get out of here, takes Johnny's hand, delighted when he doesn't pull away and pulls him to his Ford and decides to take him somewhere better, somewhere where they can see the city and maybe Daniel teaches Johnny how to blow smoke rings and then kisses him and fucks him in the back of the Ford, or outside in the grass and that annoyance he'd been feeling for months is soothed by the way Johnny clings to him and begs for more. 2. Someone dares Johnny to attend prom in a dress and Daniel decides he has to be the one to dance with Johnny all night, and at first Johnny thinks it's a joke, that Daniel's teasing him and making fun of him but then he realizes how turned on Daniel is and decides to go for it but then has to figure how to keep his dress clean when Daniel's touching him.

Thank you for sharing these wonderful ideas!👀 I’m so sorry I didn’t reply to this around prom season

:( <3

They went somewhere nice, somewhere clear, where they could just sit and watch the stars shine—but ended up watching each other instead. Johnny thought all those smoke rings were pretty cool and took in Daniel’s instructions before attempting them himself.

And after he got all proud of himself after successfully doing one, Daniel kissed him. Gentlemenly, yet eager and in control. Johnny made a sweet noise against his mouth and allowed Daniel’s tongue in the second Daniel told him to "Open up, sweetheart, come on."

He pushed Johnny to the grass with zero fight, and their hands wandered all over one another.

Some of that pent up frustration eases just from Johnny laid out beneath him like a damn 5-course meal, flushed down to his neck and glassy eyed, pupils blown, lips parted, and a little puffy. Daniel felt pride in his chest; this is the Johnny he knew was in there.

Some more of that frustration let up when he got to see more of him, rucking up his shirt and tugging off his tight jeans. Daniel wanted to fucking eat him, the way his cute dick dripped and that rack of his looked in the moonlight. When he pushed inside Johnny, he forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could watch that pretty face as he did so. But Johnny looked up at him like he was falling in love, and Daniel just had to kiss him; it’s like their lips were just meant to be pressed against each other. They’re two puzzle pieces, it’s true.

And Johnny’s frustration hadn’t much to do with Daniel but with himself. So filled with guilt for losing, for not being good enough, for hurting Daniel—all of it. He didn’t know what to do; he had no one but his cobras. But having Daniel walk up to him and take his panic spliff was what he needed. Listening to his voice as he explained how to do the rings—so patient and gentle with him, unlike Kreese—was like a dream. Getting fucked by him is like heaven, and he’d love to have Daniel inside him every damn day until he dies. He thanks Daniel.

He hopes one day he’ll be folding their laundry while Daniel cooks them dinner in their kitchen. He hopes he’ll finally be good.

2. YES. I’m an absolute sucker for Johnny, a pretty thing wearing a pretty thing.

Tommy dared him almost every year to wear one, sometimes he’d even have recommendations for what kind of dress he should wear specifically. It was always easy to tell when he was watching too many of those fashion shows when he’d start saying things like "bodice". Johnny had decided to just give in; he’d always liked dresses in secret anyway, and if anyone asked, he could tell them to fuck over or tell them about the 50 dollars Tommy promised him, then the added 30 Dutch promised if he actually did it.

He went with something that actually fit well on him—which was hard but also strangely not given his waist-to-chest ratio

(This, maybe in blue.)

Even if he was joking, he didn’t want to be seen as a joke.

He was nervous, a little worried about how people would react to him like this when he always acts so tough, but why does wearing pretty things make him weak? He could kick all their asses in a dress in heels and is willing if anyone says anything.

He danced with Bobby for a bit when they got there, allowing him to help him relax a little and let loose. Bobby was surprisingly into having people's attention on him, Johnny thinks it’s because he was in a choir when he was younger.

Johnny still ended up sitting in a corner with Jimmy, who had left the girl he was dancing with to sit with him.

"Why’d you leave her hanging?"

"I didn’t; I just wasn’t interested in doing that anymore."

"Why?"

"She said Tortoises were boring. When they live, like, hundreds of years. Pfft. She’s lame."

"Oh, yuck. Turtles are cool. But you want to sit here instead because of that?"

"Tortoises. Least until I hear a good song or one of the other guys gets me. And maybe I just wanted to keep you company."

Johnny smiles and rests his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. He can always count on them.

But that’s also why Daniel is stewing in jealousy when he walks up to Johnny and asks him for a dance, pointedly not looking at Jimmy.

Johnny purses his lips, looking over at Jimmy, having a conversation with just their expressions. "Okay. I’ll bite. But if you—"

"I won’t pull anything—"

Johnny makes a zip-it motion with his fingers, and Daniel’s mouth snaps shut. "As I was saying, if you attempt to mess up my dress, I’ll kick your ass."

"I believe it. So…dance with me?"

Johnny agrees, taking Daniel’s hand and dragging him over to the dance floor. He can still feel how sweaty Daniel’s hands are through his lace gloves. "Why are your hands so sticky?"

He was sweating a lot; he does when he’s upset, he does when he’s jealous—pretty much any strong emotion. "It’s hot in here."

"They have the AC blasting, but alright."

Johnny stops, turning around to face him and throwing his arms over Daniel’s shoulders. Daniel rests his hands on Johnny’s waist; the fabric of the dress feels nice. They start to sway.

Johnny stares at the banner behind Daniel.

"Trying a new style? You look, uh, really pretty."

Yikes, Daniel thinks. Is Johnny okay with "pretty"?

"Don’t make fun of me, punk"

Daniel shakes his head, his hair moving with it, and squeezes his waist assuringly. "I wouldn’t do that. I meant it, you look good."

Johnny studies his face for a moment, then smiles. "Oh. Thanks."

Daniel is a cute guy for sure.

Daniel nods, wracking his brain for other things to say—the perfect thing that will get Johnny on a date with him—or in the janitors closet with his skirt rucked up his legs while Daniel—

"You look good too. Really good. I like your suit, it’s very…blue."

"Like your eyes, I guess we match." Daniel grins up at him.

"Guess we do. You trying to copy me?""

Daniel shrugs. "Maybe I am."

Johnny's brows crease, then he laughs.

It’s comfortable, not weird like either of them thought it would be—were scared that it would be. Johnny presses his forehead against Daniel’s, and they listen to the music."

"This is the sound!

Always slipping from my hands

Sand's a time of its own

Take your seaside arms and write the next line

Oh! I want the truth to be known…"

Daniel encircles his arms around Johnny. "Hope they play Speedwagon."

Johnny pulled away then, and Daniel’s arms tightened around him.

"You like Speedwagon?"

"Uh, duh? Only people with bad taste don’t I mean, in my opinion, obviously, if you don’t like them, that’s—"

"Shut up, I love Speedwagon, Daniel. Why didn’t you tell me you had good taste in music before? I coulda’ shown you my cassettes and CD’s!"

He pushes Daniel away and grabs his hand again, pulling him over to where Dutch was sitting instead of Jimmy and shoveling chips from the vending machine into his mouth.

"Hey, man! Can you tell the other guys I’ll be in the parking lot? I’m showing LaRusso my mixes."

Dutch glares at Daniel, lip twitching like he’s disgusted, then looked back up at Johnny. "You gonna hang alone with this dick? Why don’t I come with—"

"Come on, Dutch. It’s fine, okay? Nothing to worry over. We’ll be back." He ruffled Dutch’s hair. "And remember, you owe me thirty in cash."

He blows a kiss at Dutch, who points a middle finger at him as he walks away.

"I’ll kill him if he tries anything, Johnny. I’m not afraid to go to prison!"

Johnny snorts, and Daniel laughs weakly.

"That’s scary."

"He doesn’t mean it, okay? He’s just a worrier."

"But what if he did?"

"Then I’d tell him to stop, simple."

That does make Daniel feel a little better. Dutch may be as aggressive and ready to attack as a wild dog, but he almost always listened to Johnny (and sometimes Bobby.)

He leads him to the parking lot, letting go of Daniel’s hand to unlock the door. Daniel missed the warmth; he wanted to know every line on Johnny’s hand.

"Get in the back. It’s cozier."

Johnny winks at him, and Daniel’s heart pounds, hard on aching. Normally he’d question, but…

He opens the car door and slides onto the seat. It smells like cigarettes and cologne—not Johnny's, though. Johnny always smelled like soap and musk (which had a sweet tinge to it.) He wonders if there’s a little unused bottle of some expensive scent sitting on Johnny’s dresser. He doesn’t know what Johnny’s home life is like, his mother is never at any of his practices, not like Lucille.

Johnny gets in next to him and locks the doors, leaning between the two front seats to dig in his glove box, his dress riding up his thighs. What’s he wearing under there?

"Ah ha!" Johnny exclaims, presenting a CD. "Speedwagon: Lost in a Dream."

He starts the engine and feeds it to the radio, settling back down with his leg pressed against Daniel’s as the music starts up.

"Give me a ride on your roller coaster

Give me a thrill, I can't help feelin' bored…"

Daniel keeps his breathing even, looking at the interior. "I like your car."

"Thanks, Dutch and I did a little remodeling."

They seem pretty close… "Oh, cool."

Johnny thinks about Daniel in his convertible, as an old man, rolling around in it and telling people about the good ole’ days. He wants to be there with him. "Yours is pretty rad too. Outdated and small, but still."

"Hey!"

Johnny snorts, slapping Daniel’s shoulder. "Cool it. Smaller cars are faster!"

Daniel rolls his eyes with a smirk.

They hardly bother to nod their heads to the music before they’re latched onto each other's mouths, magnetitized. They both knew why they were relly there.

Johnny swings his leg over and straddles Daniel, pulling at his inky hair and rocking his hips in his lap, pressing his ass purposefully against Daniel’s crotch, causing him to groan against his lips, a noise Johnny devours.

"Can…fuck….can I get my hands under here, sweetheart? Is that okay?" Daniel asks breathlessly, his fingers kissing the edge of Johnny’s dress.

Johnny nods, and Daniel wasted zero time, greedy hands shoving under and grabbing at what he could.

Is that more lace?

"Jimmy threw in another 20 if I wore them." Johnny explains, leaning down to kiss up his face. "And I already had them. Easy cash."

Daniel lets out an almost pained chuckle "You’re killing me, honey. Tell my mother I said I love her at my funeral."

Johnny reaches between them and unbuttons Daniel’s pants. "Don’t talk about your mom right now, weirdo. Touch me instead, come on."

Daniel gasps and grabs handfuls of Johnny’s ass for support when he starts grinding faster. "Johnny—"

"Y'know, I want you to fuck me, been wanting it."

Daniels gulps. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Been using my fingers while thinking about you, but it’s not enough. Need you to put it in me, Daniel, I want it."

He sounds so whiny, and Daniel is going to cum in his pants prematurely.

"Actually?"

"Yeah, actually. I can take it so good, just you wait."

"Tonight? Like now?"

Daniel lays his head back against the seat, getting closer to the edge at just thoe thought. He’s always thought about Johnny, even when he tried not to. Countless night of jerking himself off to the thought of that ass and pretty face. Does he mean tonight? Is he going to let him do it right here?

"No, LaRusso, not tonight, unfortunately. Can’t let you get my dress dirty, and we’re on a timer."

"Timer?"

"The Cobras are going to check on me soon enough, and if it’s Dutch he'll start a scene."

Ah, right. So is this it for now? He’s grateful, but…

Johnny gets off his lap and back into the seat next to Daniel, taking his arms out of the sleeves of his dress pushing the top down to his hips. He put a hand on Daniel’s thigh.

Daniel really wants to bury his face against Johnny’s chest.

Johnny's lips are moving.

"We can still go all the way, just not tonight. But I can suck it."

Daniel breathes out shakily. Thank god. He nods his head clumsily, and Johnny tugs down his boxers.

Johnny looks captivated. "Wow, man. You’re like…way bigger than I pictured. Fuckin freak of nature having a cock like this with that stick body."

Long and thick, tan and curved. Johnny needs it.

Daniel would usually be annoyed at that, but it sounds like a compliment coming from Johnny, and he’s really, really desperate to get his dick wet. Thanks, I guess."

Johnny hums, then leans down, back arched, so Daniel still has a good view of his ass. He takes the tip into his mouth and sucks.

Daniel keeps himself still, fighting not to buck his hips and choke Johnny. His mouth is so perfect. Hot and slick. He can’t even imagine what the other end of him would feel like.

Johnny swirls his tongue, wrapping a hand around Daniel and taking his mouth off the head for a moment, opening wide and just resting Daniel’s dick there, shaking his head to rub his tongue on it and looking up at Daniel.

"Johnny…you, god, you—"

Johnny giggles, letting his eyes flutter shut as he takes Daniel down his throat this time like a pro.

Daniel chokes on his spit, putting a shaky hand on the dip of Johnny’s back when he really wants to reach farther and squeeze.

Johnny looks up at him again, wiggling his hips a little in a clear invitation that Daniel takes readily, resting his hand on Johnny’s firm ass and patting it before giving it a good grope.

Johnny whimpers, sneaking a hand between his own legs to touch himself through his underwear, which are already damp with precum.

Daniel’s eyes are squeezed shut, and throaty noises escape him as Johnny bobs his head. He looks so hot; Johnny speeds up his hand and takes him down to the base, keeping himself there and waiting.

Daniel peers down at him. "Johnny?"

Johnny lifts his head up again, then drops back down. Doing that a few more times and effectively fucking his mouth with Daniel’s cock.

"What are you doing?"

Johnny picks up Daniel’s other hand and puts it on the back of his head. "Mm!"

Johnny want him to….

He fists Johnny’s hair, still gentle as he can be with it, and pulls his head up so some of his length slips from his mouth, then shoves him back down on it.

God that feels so good. "Is this alright? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Johnny replies, arching more into the hand on his ass and speeding up the hand between his legs. Daniel keeps doing it.

He takes a leap, licking the pads of two of his fingers before slipping his hand down the back of Johnny’s underwear and lightly rubbing them on his hole. He wants to be inside it so, so bad. He presses down a little more when he feels Johnny swallow around him, and the tip of his middle accidentally slips in.

Johnny chokes, and his whole body tenses, his thighs pressingand whines leaving his mouth as he cums, too drunk on it to feel embarrassed yet.

Daniel feels very pleased with himself. "God, Johnny, I’m gonna…Where do I….?"

He pulls Johnny all the way off by his hair, swearing to commit the sight of Johnny’s debauched face—his mascara a mess on his cheeks and his lipgloss smeared all over Daniel’s—to memory.

"In my mouth." Johnny croaks, holding Daniel’s forearm for support. "Please."

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you want.”

Daniel bites his lip and fills Johnny’s mouth again, letting him lead the pace.

Johnny suckles around him, wriggling his tongue on the underside on every downstroke, and doing his damndest to push Daniel over the edge; it works.

Johnny drinks down every drop that Daniel gives him, pulling off and sticking out his tongue while he wrings Daniel’s cock for more until he pushes his hand away with a pained noise.

Johnny rests his cheek on Daniel’s thigh as they both catch their breath.

"Wow, Johnny, that was—"

Johnny sits up quickly, grabbing a box of tissues from under the passenger seat and wiping his face vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, it was really fuckin’ good, Daniel, but I’d suggest tidying yourself up so we don’t have issues with—Tommy is literally walking out the entrance, man."

Daniel jumps into action, running his fingers panickedly through his hair and stuffing his dick back in his trousers.

There’s a knock at the window; they barely managed.

Johnny leans across Daniel’s lap and turns the crank. "Hey, buddy! You’ve been out here a while. All good?"

He gives Daniel a suspicious look.

"Yeah, man, all good. We were actually just about to head back inside."

Tommy hums. "Why do you sound like that? You getting sick?"

Tommy reaches through the window and puts his hand on Johnny’s cheek. "You’re burning up!"

Johnny lightly smacks it away. "I’m fine, was just singing to the music and got a little hoarse and sweaty."

Tommy raises a brow, but leaves it be. "Alright. We’re missing ya in there, J, so hurry."

"For sure."

Johnny starts shutting the window before Tommy can say anything, and Tommy puts a hand to his heart dramatically before laughing and turning to head back inside.

Johnny turns to Daniel. "One more kiss?"

Daniel smiles and leans in.

#lawrusso #nsft #safety first #I Made it a little fast paced #Daniel is nervous. He’s gonna be A LOT more filthy with his words the next time he sees Johnny

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snowdice · 1 year

Text

Relabeled; Refiled Master Post

You can find the general Labeled Master Post here.

Coffee Shop Meet Cute: (Complete) Is this what falling in love felt like or was Patton just about to pass out from exhaustion? Patton and Logan’s first meeting in the Sometimes Labels Fail Universe.

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Coffee Shop Incident Report: (Complete) Patton and Logan’s first meeting in the Sometimes Labels Fail Universe, but what Logan put in his files about it afterwards.

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The Things We Never Mentioned: (Complete)“Believe it or not, academia and relationships are not mutually exclusive.” That was likely true, Logan knew. It was also not the problem. The problem was his ability to move things with his mind, a blue suit he kept in his bag, and the mountains of red files he kept hidden in his apartment. No one knew that Logan was Bluebird, the cities resident superhero. He hadn’t even told his parents and he wasn’t planning on doing so. Sharing such a secret with anyone was a danger to everyone involved. He refused to do so. At the same time, he knew that starting a romantic relationship with anyone who didn’t know the truth, was unfair to that person. Inevitably they would find out and there would be a disastrous fallout, but beyond that, starting a relationship on a foundation of lies was a horribly cruel thing to do to another person. These two conflicting rules Logan followed had never posed an issue for him before recently, but…But he did like Patton.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Logan’s 25 Step Plan to Ask a Boy Out: (Complete) “No! Logan look,” she said. “He likes you and you like him. You don’t need a list or a plan or schematics for this. Just walk up to him and ask him out before you hesitate so much that he thinks you don’t like him anymore.” | Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that something that can happen.” | “Oh god, this is hopeless.” | How is Logan so good at, but simultaneously so bad at this?

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Facts on White Chrysanthemums: (Complete) Logicality first kiss in the Labeled Universe.

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Gaps in His Files: (Complete) Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Epilogue

Remy’s Follow Up Questions: (Complete) Remy sees Patton for the first time after the closet freak out.

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How Long We’ll Stay: (Complete) Detective Rhea Silvia is given an apology fruit basket from a superhero after he used his powers on her when his memories were wiped.

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Why We’re Here: (Complete) A quick snapshot of Patton beginning therapy.

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Stress Cooking and Distractions: (Complete) Logan helps Patton with his stress and gets lasagna out of the deal.

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Moving Forward; Moving In: (Incomplete) After the events of Gaps in His Files, Patton and Logan are engaged, but they still have a lot to work through in their relationship. They’re willing to put in the work for each other even when it’s hard.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2

The Way Love Sticks to the Skin: (Complete) “What are you doing?” Patton asked, amused. | “I had an idea,” Logan said. Patton saw the sticky note briefly as he peeled it off the top of his stack and stuck it to Patton’s shoulder. | “And I am being used as your idea board this morning?” Patton asked with a giggle. | “The medium must match the source material, or be it in this case,” he said.

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Pillows and Blanket Cocoons (Complete) “Patton, dearest,” his pillow entreated. “My goal is to simply start the coffee maker. I will come straight back to bed afterwards.”| “You’ve used that trick on me before,” Patton muttered. “You’ll just use the coffee getting done as an excuse to get up for real.” | “We must get up at some point,” he reasoned. | Patton opened his eyes again to make eye contact with Logan. He threw his leg over him.

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First Anniversary: (Complete) Logan and Patton go on a trip for their first anniversary.

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Board Games: (Complete) “You’re really going to seduce me to win a monopoly game?” he asked. | “Is it working?” Logan likes to cheat at board games. Especially at Monopoly.

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Mental Toughness: (Complete)Patton goes missing. Logan finds him, but that presents its own issues.

A03 Part 1 Part 2

The Origin Story of a Yapping Mop: (Complete) Virgil was not the first living creature Logan carried in his arms to Patton. This is how they ended up with a dog.

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#master post #not writing #not pieces fic #blog organization

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takecareluv · 2 years

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🎧record shop -> tell me about yourself and i’ll give you a song that reminds me of you. or give me a certain type of vibe and i’ll make you a little playlist !

i feel like you might already have an idea of what i am like as a person...but let's get a bit personal & vulnerable. i experience emotions on the extremes - when i'm happy, i feel like i'm floating through galaxies and touching the starrs, the warmth of a pink-orange sunset wrapping around me like a hug. when i'm sad, i won't stop crying for hours until the skin around my eyes are cracked and red and swollen so much that i can't see. i want to be more vulnerable and open with people, but hold myself back. or share too much at first and regret it afterwards. i want to fall in love and experience a soft type of love that makes my heart shudder from how much i am in love with and how much i want that person, but i'm so so scared to ever be in a relationship and hold myself back from truly feeling such emotions to their full extent. i want to know what it's like the kiss someone i love, to hug them and hold their hand. sunsets make me emotional. i daydream too much for my own good. my head is both my safe space and my personal prison. i have insomnia and wish i could sleep better.

livie. are we the same person? everything you said describes me to a t as well. i think we're... soulmates...?

what i would do to be laying next to you on a blanket somewhere (the beach, or maybe a park ?) watching the sunset as well chat about life and all sorts of other random stuff. i feel like you would be an amazing person to have a deep conversation with. and eventually the sun would fully set and we would look up at the night sky and stargaze while just enjoying each other's company. god i want to meet you so badly. anyway... back to what you're hear for, the music!

i went a little overboard ngl… i hope you don’t mind. i just couldn’t stop, there were so many songs that i thought fit the description you sent, or reminded me of you, or simply that i thought you might like. & i really wanted to give you a plethora of songs in hopes that there would be at least one you enjoy haha

pluto projector by rex orange county

cry by cigarettes after sex

night changes by one direction hehe a classic

she’s mine, pt. 1 by j cole

iris by the goo goo dolls

glimpse of us by joji

pour le monde by crowded house

moonlight by ariana grande

how long will i love you by ellie goulding (from one of my all time favorite movies)

best part by daniel caesar & h.e.r.

(no one knows me) like the piano does by sampha

beige by yoke lore

just a little bit of your heart by ariana grande

carry you by novo amor

fallingforyou by the 1975

sparks by coldplay

freakin out on the interstate by briston maroney

train wreck by james arthur

moon river by frank ocean

chariot by beach house

notice me by quinn XCII

blue light by mazzy star

summertime in paris by jaden

stuck with U by ariana & justin bieber

world we created by giveon

chateau (feel alright) by djo

song for zula by phosphorescent

lightning & thunder by jhene aiko (feat. john legend)

with you by ashton edminster

what you need by the weeknd

strawberries & cigarettes by troye sivan

join the fun!

#meg’s 500 follower celebration #kissesandcigarettes #ahhh i’m nervous about this one #i hope you like them

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sangopearls · 3 years

Text

-how they kiss you

CW: kissing (only really up to second base), degrading remarks (scaramouche)

mari fact! despite being basically 19, i’ve never kissed anyone (probably because i’m as introverted … it’s a me-not-everyone-else problem, or at least i tell myself that…). naturally this means i must hold such an action to an almost fantastical standard by making hcs for how my fictional crushes would kiss so now once i do kiss someone i’ll never be satisfied because i’ve written perfect scenarios in my head! oops

characters featured: zhongli, childe, scaramouche (his 1st appearance on s1lkflowers!), kazuha

zhongli

delicate, breathtaking, appreciative.

with every time your lips meet, it’s like a prayer that he’ll never have to let you go.

zhongli is all about worshipping his lovers. he’ll kiss your hands, your cheek, then position his lips just a breath away from yours before saying, “may i kiss you?”

naturally you find yourself speechless enough only to return a nod, so the man cups your cheek and leans in.

he’s warm, inviting, he’ll never let you go. he’ll kiss and touch you for hours if that’s what you want. he’s a deeply caring lover and puts you first.

with every movement forward, he’s gentle enough to ask “may i touch you?”, “may i undo your robes?”, etc.. all he wants is to please you and treat you as if you, too, are divinity.

childe

desperate, passionate, playful.

childe is the type to adore kisses. surprise kisses? absolutely! we nearly just died, please kiss me to confirm i’m alive? a thousand percent!

like childe, his kisses range in personality. sometimes he’ll pepper playful kisses along your arms, neck, cheek, and nose before you just yank him in for a kiss. anything is an excuse for kisses. he’ll pass by you and just give you a peck. you’ll be sparring and he’ll just lay one on you because, archons, you’re so cute with that “i’ll kick your ass” look in your eyes.

other times, he’ll be almost animalistic, just tugging you in for a hungry kiss and you two just scale off of one another’s passion and he gets carried away pretty quickly, biting, licking, and grabbing at you as if it’s the last time he’ll ever see you.

speaking of which he definitely loves to kiss along your neck and collarbone. if you wake up with dark splotches the next morning, all the better. he sees them as marks that just shout “mine, mine, mine” to any lowly idiot who would dare try to take you from him.

scaramouche

domineering, fiery, rough

scaramouche doesn’t strike me as much of an affectionate lover but lately i’ve had scaramouche brainrot so i needed him here for my own sake oops

regardless, when he kisses you, it’s a mark of dominance. a way to revel in how you fall apart at such a small gesture. you truly are a desperate little thing… so fascinatingly easy to control.

he’s also definitely an angry kisses kinda guy. if you two are arguing, he’ll just yank you in and kiss you until you’re dumbfounded. afterwards, he just scoffs and mutters something like “finally, the hotheaded slut learns to shut their mouth. you make it too easy.”

when things are a little more agreeable, he surely bites. who cares if your lips bleed a bit? all the more hot in this battle-driven man’s mind. he can be rough and greedy and won’t let up until you’re kissed stupid

kazuha

soft, addictive, magical

kazuha is the type to give movie-level kisses. not sure why i’ve decided this but i’ve said so and i’m going to defend this idea to the death

we already know he has a highly creative and artistic personality, so he’s certainly a perfect love interest. i’m thinking slow burn romance anime energy between you guys

you’ll be traveling partners for ages, and he’ll always share his most personal poems with you, slip you compliments, and you catch him glancing at you with a small smile. what feels like eons later, he finally gives you that much-awaited kiss under the gentle moonlight.

he lets his heart carry him when you’re together. if you’re talking and there’s a lull of silence, he’s just so lovestruck that he has to lean in and kiss you with such passion as if he’s trying to prove how much he cares for you. every moment feels as if it’s making you drunk. he’s slow, passionate, and almost meticulously so. he grazes gentle touches along your body and as he trails kisses down your form, he whispers little details he likes about you. as he kisses your chest, he murmurs “i love your chest because it holds your heart”. as he kisses your arms, he says “i love your arms because they hold me close.”

(can you tell i read the fault in our stars in middle school and just really loved the part where augustus was kissing hazel’s body and whispered “beautiful” between each breath?)

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Note

can I request some naga with a spetznaz reader? she is highly skilled and has been with the spetznaz for atleast a decade. and maybe her squad had to team up with naga to take down some dangerous drug lord or something and they start to fall in love. note she always wears her balaclava when she's around other people she only tekens it off when she is alone with her men or just by herself. she also has a few scars

sorry if it's too specific!

Don't Go | Naga x Fem!Reader

Oooooo sheeeeeet 👀👀👀 I'm so here for Naga x badass lady content lmao. Also, not to worry!! I love yous guy's OCs, and if this is one such instance, I'm more then happy to write some content for them. In fact, I'd be quite honored :)

Anyway, sorry for the wait but this turned into a whole ass little fic, so here we go!!

The blistering Laotian sun beams overhead. Naga is taking shelter in the branches of a tall tree, sharpening a blade and surveying the land below.

His men and yours mill around, preparing for the fight coming up.

In return for his work for Perseus, Kapano has called in a favor... One of Perseus' operators and a small squad to help him and his men take down a rival who's been getting far too close for comfort to his territory. And well... He didn't get to be in this position by playing nice.

The two of you have been tracking his whereabouts for weeks now and, at long last, the time has come. Tonight's the night, and afterwards your partnership will be through.

One last shick of the blade and then... Silence.

He looks down into the clearing and picks you out from the crowd. An easy task, considering you're wearing one of the same few balaclavas you always wear.

And he does mean, always.

He's never seen your face, despite the few times he's given you the privilege of seeing his. Somehow, he's always thought that maybe, if he removes his mask or bandana, it'll encourage you to do the same, but... To no such avail.

It's strange, you know... He hasn't a clue what you look like, and yet he can't seem to get you out of his mind. He's wondered often, but all he knows for sure is that you have the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen...

The thought of parting ways with you after tonight upsets him, even though he knows it shouldn't. This is a business arrangement only. Nothing more.

And yet... He's never met a woman quite like you before.

He could get any woman he wants in all of Laos into his bed should he please, and yet the one who actually intrigues him, he has no chance with. And that's just the thing, isn't it? He doesn't want a woman in his bed, he wants one in his life damn it!

His lonely, stressful, life...

Prostitutes and dancers are plentiful and cheap to a man like him, but company such as that does nothing to interest him. He needs... A partner.

Someone who will stay through the tough and the crazy and the fighting and the schemes. Someone to be there through the hurt and the loss and the anger and the loneliness. Someone...

Like you.

During the day, he has visions of expanding his underground empire and sharing the wealth together. At night, he dreams of a quiet life with a woman who calls his name sweetly and kisses him softly. Yes, even a feral, conniving, wild man such as he dares to dream of a domestic life after this one to grow old and fat in, from time to time.

Kapano lays his head back and sighs deeply. Surely not. You are a tigress among women, certainly not the type to dote and be doted on by a small man with a big lifestyle and personality like him.

Do you ever think of such things? He wonders.

He watches you spar hand to hand with one of your men. You're giving every bit as good as you get, and in a few moves more he's confident you'll gain the upper hand.

A thud and a cheer finds him from down below. He cracks open his eyes to see, to no one's surprise, that you have won. With a small smile and an even tinnier sigh, he claps his hands politely and slowly fades into one of his day dreams.

Just according to plan, the raid goes off without a hitch. The rival has been sufficiently delt with, and Naga has found himself considerably richer in the process. You spend most of the night laughing and celebrating as the two of you, along with your crews, haul back the loot you've captured.

The two of you take rest amongst the sea of pillows and cushions that make up his living room furniture. For the third time since you've been here face to face with him, you wince and try to play it off.

"Is something wrong?", he asks at last.

"Tsk, it's nothing. Just a cut I think", you touch your covered cheek and sigh. The woolen fabric is irritating the injury you received from the fight. Just another scar for the count, you suppose...

"Sorry, I really must be going. I should clean this up...", You move to stand, only to fall back into the pile of cushions with a hiss. It would seem that knee on knee strike you received earlier as well is catching up with you.

Naga puts his hands out to steady you, "No no! It's alright... I um...", He spares a cautious glance to the hem of your balaclava. Should he... "Would you like me to clean it for you?"

You give him an appraising look. There's no one you trust in this world with your face, aside from a select few of your men. But... You must admit.

You've developed... Feelings, for the oh so vicious little warlord. Hm, vicious only on the outside, you muse. He has a tender heart underneath it all, and you consider yourself lucky to have been able to bear witness to it, just as you are now.

"...Fine"

Slowly, carefully, you remove the mask. It's stuck to the dried blood from your wound but, with a bit of help, it's off soon enough.

You hold a hand to your injured cheek, hoping to stop up some of the fresh blood after the old stuff has been ripped away. Naga holds your mask, and he... Feels...

In awe.

You have all the beauty of a goddess, and he feels truly privileged to behold the sight of you.

"Something wrong?", You cock an eyebrow, suddenly second guessing your decision to reveal yourself.

"No, I just...", Gently, he reaches out a hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, "You're more beautiful then I ever could've imagined..."

His voice is quiet and distant, as though he's in a dream. As the moonlight dances through the room, he gazes at you in a state of absolute wonder until it almost makes you wish you could stay in this moment forever.

Suddenly, he shakes himself, snapping out of it. He shrinks away and breaks his eyes from looking at yours, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that", he's quiet for a moment. You both are, as you reel from the sudden change. "I'll go get th-"

"Wait", your hand reaches out and tugs him back down. He stumbles a little and finds himself landing closer to you then he's ever been before.

The cool breath of your lips tickles the skin of his broad little nose, even as your breath seems to hitch in your throat. His deep, almond eyes lock onto your bright, shining irises, the only feature he's known you for, for all this time, before daring a glance at your parted lips.

The slightest of movements brings you closer to him, but he's been waiting for this moment far too long for gentleness.

He supports your head and shoulders before crashing his lips into yours. His lips are thick and soft, far more so then you would've expected of gang boss like himself. He suspends himself over top of you, his body only inches away as you fall back completely against the plush pillows.

You run a hand along his side as he works over your slips, rough, but slow. His body is lean and hard, but softer and pleasingly warm in certain places. He moans happily, like a dog receiving a particularly enjoyable scratching, as you gently caress his side and kiss him back.

When you're both ready, he gently breaks the kiss, only to plant one more to your forehead. He lingers there a moment, his voice the barest of whispers, "Please don't go tomorrow..." He sniffs, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was about to cry.

He pulls back a little and shakes his head, "Or ever. I-I want you to stay...", He caresses your healthy cheek, and shyly makes eye contact with you before pressing a long, tender kiss to your lips. "I think... I think I love you"

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, a wave of surprise over taking you. You had no idea he felt this way... Maybe you're not as crazy as you thought for all those times you've thought about him...

Honestly, you don't know if you're ready for something like this, but...

Is anyone?

You swallow your nerves, and find that a small smile breaks free as you let your anxieties go. "I think...", You cup his cheek and give a tiny kiss to the tip of his nose, "maybe I love you too"

#black ops cold war #call of duty #kapano naga vang #naga x reader #kapano vang x reader

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alonfic · 3 years

Text

in conclusion (i love you)

pairing: tsukishima kei x reader genre: college + fwb to lovers au | fluff, suggestive wc: 3,742 description: In which Tsukishima discovers that love can bloom in inconspicuous ways, even when you and him are supposed to be conducting a (not so) simple experiment. author’s note: cross-posted onto my ao3. still not sure if i’ll be posting here frequently, but i thought i’d see how i like it first.

Tsukishima doesn’t understand romantic relationships.

He thinks they’re illogical, impossible, and most of all, irrelevant. They seem like too much hassle when it comes to the ordeal of courting. From the hours spent preparing complicated banners for asking significant others out to the extensive search for gifts that are supposed to appease pointless “monthiversaries,” Tsukishima finds it all to be a waste of time.

Just acts for appearances. Sure, they’re cute, heartwarming even, but what does all of that show for anyway? What happened to qualitative experiences?

He ascertains that he may never truly understand what it means to love another person by modern day standards; for those standards are all full of overhyped bullshit trying to make a trending post on Twitter and Instagram. If avoiding those things means saving himself from love, then so be it. (Irrationality and heartache be damned!)

Tsukishima decides in his first year of university that he won’t do any of those things.

How? His friends ask, guffaws in tow.

He simply tells them that he won’t fall in love.

Not many people share in this same ideal, Tsukishima finds.

He can’t say he’s very surprised or disappointed to have his philosophy rejected, especially by those same friends who have questioned his goal, Yamaguchi and Hinata. They’re fools who deem love as something akin to fate’s gift.

Love is a choice, Tsukishima tells them, and this is his decision.

They think he’s being a little silly for not wanting to fall in love. They say he’ll get bit in the ass when he least expects it and he’ll go back on his word, but he hardly thinks that’s true.

If he doesn’t want to fall in love, then he won’t, and that’s perfectly okay. At the very least, you agree with him.

You have always understood him on wavelengths that others simply could not. You have always stood by his side when it came to debates on this matter, and even more so when he really thinks about it.

Tsukishima has been able to lean on you even in high school. Him being so introverted has made things difficult, and what he needed then was patience, something many people lacked, but unlike those people, you took the time to understand him and his struggles.

It’s made him grateful to you. Even now. Scratch that, especially now.

These days he isn’t just shooting you texts about how he could’ve let someone down easier. Sometimes it’s checking out hot pot places at 8PM on a Tuesday; other times, it’s going to the library until 5 AM because statistics midterms suck at an unbearable level, but you take the 8AM class with him anyway, just because it’s him, and General Education requirements may suck but they’re mandatory.

It’s also sharing jokes that no one else gets, and teaming up against the rest of the group when they heckle you two about being the only ones who sees love as the bane of both your existences.

Tsukishima has heard plenty of love advice and received Cosmopolitan articles on how to woo a friend from those same punks who think that love is given by chance. He has seen the knowing stares exchanged at kickbacks. Hell, he’s heard all the whispers, too. But it means nothing.

This is friendship. No matter what anyone else tries to insinuate, you both know it means nothing for either of you.

What you are together is simply platonic.

Friends, that’s all.

Somewhere along the way benefits become a factor for you two.

These are the sort of benefits that forgo late night convenience store runs for ramen and other delicious, overly processed foods that Yamagchi and Sugawara blanch at the two of you over. Instead it’s the kind that means heated kisses in one another’s bedroom and wandering hands in places very few people have become privy to in both your two-decades long reign on this planet.

And, it all starts over a simple experiment.

At least that’s what you and Tsukishima like to call it.

“Isn’t it stupid that Ennoshita would say that?” Tsukishima asks, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “We can be friends. How can he say it’s impossible for us to be just friends? I mean there’s nothing wrong with being attracted to one another, right? You’re good looking. I’m good looking. We’re acknowledging each other’s attractiveness.”

He pats the open space beside him on his bed, feeling it dip a little soon afterwards. You’re visiting him after he blew off the post-kickback get together. He shouldn’t be surprised that you came by to check on him.

You smile at him as one of your fingers pokes his cheek. “You sound awfully bothered over something that shouldn’t matter.”

He frowns at your nonchalant tone, even if you are messing with him.

Tsukishima has never been that particularly fond of other people telling him that his friendship with you is only the stepping stone to something more, that it would only be a matter of time before you two were calling one another cutesy pet names and holding hands for other reasons than as a precaution from getting lost in crowds, and that if he didn’t step up to the plate now, then he would lose you to someone else.

But how could he? If anything, you’ve been more against love than him. Seeing you with someone else is as impossible as seeing Hinata at Aone’s height. Possibly with some help, but still highly unlikely.

“I mean, aren’t you? So what if we’re attracted to each other? That doesn’t mean we’re going to start dating because of that.”

You hum in affirmation.

You know he has a point. It’s silly to expect two friends to date when both your admissions came as a result from a simple game of “truth or dare.” While it comes from a place of truth, it isn’t like either of you admitted to harboring deep-seated feelings for one another or anything. It’s simply an admission of truth.

He thinks you’re attractive, beautiful even, and it helps that you share the same opinion as him when it comes to love. And, you think he’s attractive, handsome even, and it’s because you both share the same opinion on love that he doesn’t have to worry about frivolous things like falling in love with you. Or you with him. Your dynamics just work like that.

“You know, there are other alternatives to relationships anyway, right?” you ask him, watching as he turns to face you on the bed.

“Like what? Hooking up?” He feels a little dumbfounded. The idea of hooking up with you never really occurred to him. Clearly not because he wasn’t attracted to you, but didn’t those end up… badly?

You nod.

Seeing the instant confusion wash over his face, you explain, “Yeah, hook-ups aren’t so bad. It’s like a one and done. It doesn’t even have to lead to anything more. It’s like a preliminary thing. Trial or whatever. We give it a go and if it doesn’t work out, then we can just go back to being friends.”

“And if it does? Work out, I mean,” he gulps. He doesn’t want to think of an option that means losing you or this friendship. But he’s intrigued, he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t, and you know it.

“Then we have one of two options.”

He blinks. “Which are?”

“Well, if it does, then we can continue and enjoy the fun. Or, we really fuck ourselves over and do exactly what our friends have been betting on for years.” You lean in closer, eyes alight with mischief and interest.

He feels a tug within him to concede, as if his own body knows its answer, while his mind’s doubts seem to lower in volume the longer he’s under your gaze.

“What do you say? Up for an experiment?”

He still has to ask: “And, what if we can’t go back from this?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, eyes softening as you note his hesitancy. “Even that’s something I can’t answer. This is just a risk we both have to be willing to take. Truthfully, I’m in. But, are you? I-it’s okay if you aren’t, though, Kei. This was just a suggestion, of course—”

He doesn’t take a second longer to tell you his decision.

“I’m in.”

After all, it couldn’t hurt… right?

Tsukishima discovers many things in this time.

Things that he never really gave a second thought on. Somewhere between how you look bathed in moonlight with the curtains half-open to the just-right way you feel beside him, he realizes how soft your skin is, how low and husky your voice can get when you’re feeling a particular way, and how powerful you are.

There’s something enticing about you. Not just in the way you look bare, but the way you can make him feel even without the lack of clothing. He realizes that he enjoys the lingering taste of your lips against his, the heat that your fingertips leave behind, and the small voice you use when you call his name.

It’s normal, he tries to convince himself. This is how it should be.

It would be ridiculous to hate the way you feel or sound when it comes to him. And while that is true, that becomes a whole different matter when it bleeds into everyday life outside of the bedroom.

He swears there are moments where he can hear you say his name and you aren’t even in the room. His eyes catch sight of something familiar, at least enough to remind him of you, and suddenly you’re popping up front and center in his mind. He can’t help but smile, of course.

Even just the taste of last night’s kiss rears its head when he’s doing homework, suddenly taking him right back to that night you two shared talking about the latest fantastical escapade in his reading arsenal.

He believes the simplicity of these exchanges is the best part of this entire experiment.

Being able to switch between friendship and, well, sex. And he isn’t sure if the consistent exposure to your presence has brought him to think of you constantly or if it’s some other seed blooming in the vestiges of his chest. He can’t say. Partially because he’s scared to. Because admitting to the second possibility means changing something good, something normal. And change, in this regard, often means a relationship. One that he isn’t sure if such feelings will truck through or crash and burn the moment he mentions it.

Instead when you call out his name, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and a fingertip tapping his cheek, he flashes one of his heartwarming smiles your way and brushes aside the concern.

“It’s nothing,” he tells you. “I’m fine. Everything is perfect.”

And while you aren’t convinced, you simply nod and take note to ask another day.

The thing that bothers Tsukishima most is being fickle.

He doesn’t like being fickle. He knows it is transcribed in the stars that he is a fickle being. And it doesn’t help that everyone is constantly telling him that he is indecisive. He knows already. He knows it well. He hates it, but only when it comes to you.

He is never indecisive with you. Well, only because you’re the assurance he needs when it comes to decision-making. Maybe it’s your influence. You’re bullheaded and more self-assured than Patrick Verona from “Ten Things I Hate About You.” (Mind you, you’re the one who forced him to watch it. And, fortunately, he wound up loving it.)

He constantly thinks about how opposed those two main leads are about love, simply because it is exactly against what everyone else expects from high school teenagers. They don’t conform to the status quo. They make their own status quo. Perhaps that is where Tsukishima garnered such a strong stance against love from. Partially from the movie and mostly from you.

While everyone is banking on your relationship to become more than just friends, he truly can’t help but consider the possibility of a ‘more’ with you anymore. He realizes this when he sees you underneath the incandescent fairy lights hanging around your room.

Your tranquil visage, how effortless you look sporting one of his T-shirts with a giant crescent moon on the back, and the way your limbs so effortlessly remain entangled. This is comfortable. This is… right.

He doesn’t stop himself from brushing aside the stray locks covering your face. Normally, he might like to turn over and occupy another part of the bed, but he prefers to remain where he is with you in his arms, just so he can listen for your soft and steady breathing like his own personal lullaby. If he was brave enough, he probably would’ve kissed your cheek.

Truthfully, if he were in a relationship with you, he truly wouldn’t mind. Not even a little bit.

Realization strikes him then. A simple, yet vital question crosses his mind, one that he hadn’t thought needed to be asked before—could you feel the same way about him?

Tsukishima doesn’t have any other answer besides I don’t know.

When Tsukishima said he could never be as irrational as any other lovestruck fool, he never imagined what it would be like to see you in the arms of another man.

Given, this is a man he knows well. Trusts, even. He can’t help but feel a large pang in his chest when Kuroo spins you around on the dancefloor. It’s a drunken habit that everyone either loves or hates depending on their sobriety levels, but even while sober, you seem to bask in this treatment with glee.

It makes Tsukishima grumble under his breath, “What’s so good about him anyway?”

He doesn’t ask anyone in particular and expects no one to answer him back, but a nudge and a pointed look from Sugawara tells him that his ruminations have not gone unnoticed.

Sugawara nods his head in your direction. “You finally realize you’re in love with her?”

“W-what? I am not in love… with her,” he says. It’s all weak and unconvincing.

The smirk on the silver-haired man’s face says it all, much to Tsukishima’s annoyance.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking about it.” He doesn’t want to say it aloud. He hardly feels right feeling what he does when you probably don’t even feel the same way anyway.

“What am I thinking that has you so peeved, Tsukishima?” Sugawara raises his eyebrow. “The truth?”

The tone elicits a wince from Tsukishima, making him frown. Not that he’s unhappy, he’s just frustrated that the proverbial cat is now out of the bag.

Tsukishima simply shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to escape from the scene. Maybe go home and burrow away into his bed, away from all of this. Afterparty milk tea trip with the rest of the group be damned. Did he really have to go when he was this emotionally compromised? Stewing right here just spells trouble, and not just for him, but for your friendship with him as well.

“You should just be honest, dude. None of this ‘experiment’ bullshit. You both lost. Own up to the results.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow at Sugawara. The rest of the party seems to cease with more drinks getting passed around, which he receives one quite graciously. “What are you talking about ‘both?’ It’s just me. I fell first.”

Sugawara snorts.

Tsukishima shoots him an accusatory glare, but when he receives nothing in response, he chugs down the red Solo cup without thinking of what’s inside.

The mixture kind of tastes like shit, and it makes him feel even worse, because now his mind won’t stop fixating on you and Kuroo. A match that could be made in heaven.

The dark-haired man has always been handsome, adorable at times, funny without trying particularly hard, caring, and worst of all, certain. God, was Kuroo a certain bastard. He always seemed to know what he wanted. He did as he pleased and got whatever he set his heart on too.

It’s cruel, really. The way fate has metaphorically bit him in the ass like Yamaguchi and Hinata predicted.

Tsukishima can’t stand the thought that maybe you would choose Kuroo’s sauve side tonight. He particularly dislikes that he really did lose his chance thinking that this experiment would last forever. A few months should’ve sufficed. Should’ve. But only an idiot would let something as good as you be a temporary fling.

“Maybe I’m the idiot,” he mutters, shutting his eyes.

Sugawara doesn’t respond immediately, in fact, he doesn’t respond at all. Instead a voice he swears is yours does.

“Who’s an idiot?” Fingertips digging into his sides are unlike Yamaguchi or even Sugawara. In fact, these ones are all too familiar, even with two layers of clothing blocking access to his bare flesh. “Kei?”

When he looks at the perpetrator, he nearly tumbles over to see you in Sugawara’s place.

You immediately steady him by interlocking one of his arms with yours, and it’s only you. No Kuroo trailing behind you. No Sugawara in sight either. It’s just you and him walking toward an empty section of the house. Milk tea trip really be damned, you seemed to tell him.

“Are you alright?” He notices you make eye contact with Yamaguchi before you two round the corner into the surprisingly unoccupied hallway.

Tsukishima’s begrudgingly grateful that Kageyama’s place is a lot spacier than he remembers. It’s enough that he’s been granted some relief—no trip or an audience to bear witness to his major crash and burn.

He sighs. “N—yeah. Er, no.”

“Yes or no? Which it is.” You flash him a half-smile as he sways inside the empty guest bedroom.

He looks around after noting just how quiet it is without the thumping bass of music or the chatter of others drowning out just about everything else. It feels bare here somehow.

He shakes his head.

“Why?” Your eyebrows screw together. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I fucked up,” he whispers. Looking from the beige walls covered bare of any sentiments, he meets your softened gaze. “I fucked up the experiment.”

“How did you do that?”

“T-the results are inconclusive. I can’t continue, because,” he rubs the back of his head, “well, I caught feelings.”

The surprise is evident on your visage, even from the weak lighting created by the moon and street lamp outside. But he can’t deny seeing the sight of a smile beginning to grace your features either. Amusement, he can discern with absolute certainty. Relief, dare he say? All of the things he never imagined in any of his scenarios about this moment.

“Leave it to you to be able to use big words when you’re buzzed.”

“It’s true. We can’t continue this. I mean I’d love to have something with you, but this isn’t a one and done for me. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.”

“Really? You mean that?” Even though you won’t say it directly, he knows there’s a huge burden of thoughts on your mind from the way your bottom lip gets captured by your teeth.

“Yeah, I mean it. I—I can’t pretend that I don’t love you anymore. I just can’t. I don’t think I ever expected to feel this way for anyone, but spending so much time with you in and out of bed has shown me that whatever shit I said before has gone completely out of the window. I mean I’m not asking you to be with me if that’s not what you want, but if at all, you feel something too, then…” He can’t help but fiddle with his fingers. Why is his heart beating so loudly? Can’t you hear it?

“You love me?”

He swears then that you probably can.

Slowly, he nods. “I don’t know how I came to love you exactly, but it just struck me when you were sleeping. It felt right that you were beside me. Easy and comfortable, even. I debated so hard about what these feelings were when it came to you. I didn’t think I could like someone this much. But I just do. I just love you for you, for being there... for existing.”

The last part has his cheeks burning, and Tsukishima can’t help but look away to save himself the humiliation of looking like a fresh tomato. You laugh when he does this, and he can’t even help himself from trying to catch a glimpse.

He loves your soft exhale, it’s one that he relishes in. Somehow you don’t look as perturbed or aghast as he expects. If anything, you look quite content. It makes him wonder if Sugawara was right, if everyone else was right all along.

He asks, “Well, what do you say?”

This time you laugh again. A much louder, but he can’t help but break out into a broad grin, because the atmosphere feels lighter than any tension breaking to grip the room. He knows without being told.

“Only you, Kei. Of course, I love you too.”

His heart swells, and a greedy part of him wants to hear you say it again. “Really?”

You nod and look at him as if there couldn’t possibly be any other answer out there. “There’s no one else in this world that could understand me the way you do. No one could touch me like you, make me laugh like you, and certainly not watch ‘Ten Things I Hate About You’ five million times with me like you.”

“Five million and one times,” he corrects.

His fingers shyly brush away the hair threatening to cover your face, and he refuses to be denied that luxury. Not when he can’t seem to get enough of you. He can’t even bear to move his hand away after he’s done it. “And I’d watch it over and over again with you, by the way.”

“Good.” You smile at him, cupping your hand over his. “I’m glad we finally came to a conclusion on this.”

“Even if it means getting ‘I-told-you-so’s’ and teased to all hell?” He smiles when you nod. “Good, ‘cuz I don’t think I’d have it any other way.”

“Yeah, me either,” you say, leaning in to peck his lips. Of course, he returns the gesture (and then some).

(The room is empty, after all.)

#tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima imagines #tsukshima fanfic #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #emwrites #title: in conclusion (i love you)

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hxwkslove · 3 years

Text

Escapade (Hawks x reader)

cw: mentions of nightmares

Restless

You were having a rough time sleeping, constantly moving around and changing positions in your shared bed. You struggled with nightmares, and the fear of them happening again strikes a feeling into your heart that causes your anxiety level to rise higher than normal.

Nighttime is scary, especially alone. It’s the time where all the shadows in the house morph into terrifying creatures.

Lucky for you, Keigo was able to gauge how you were feeling with ease. He felt you constantly moving around and assumed something was wrong.

“Are you feeling okay?” barely a whisper from his lips as he turned to hold your hands in his.

You were quiet for a little, still high off adrenaline that would not stop rushing through you.

“Yeah, just having a hard time sleeping, I’m terrified of nightmares happening again.” you laugh softly as you fidgeted with his hands.

There was a small silence while he was thinking.

“I have an idea,” he gently guided your face to look into your eyes.

His eyes remind you of honey, sweet and addicting once you get one glance. You’re addicted.

“I can call my sidekicks to take over tomorrow and we can go out. I don’t think you’re planning to go to sleep tonight, yeah?” he chuckled at you, low and baritone from lack of use.

He reminds you of space. Eyes so breathtaking that they could not possibly be of this world. Beautiful expressions, with such a relaxed smile you could drown in. A personality that is like the stars, warm, welcoming and so, so lovely. You could never get enough of him, so addicted like you could never get enough of. A feeling of wanting to know more about him, what his motives are, what he’s like with different emotions, but one thing is for certain. You love him with all your being and had so much of your heart to give to him.

You apologize for zoning out.

“That sounds great to me, what do you have in mind?” relief flooded your lungs, happy that you no longer have to have your mind plagued with thoughts of terrifying nightmares.

He puts his forehead on yours and smiles brighter than the sun.

You hope it never dims.

“We could go to the convenience store and get snacks and afterwards we could go to the park or the beach! Or I could take you and we could sit on the top of a tall building and look at the stars together!” he excitedly rambles as his hands fidget with yours and he looks deep into your eyes.

You smile.

“Let’s do it all! We have so much time Keigo!” you hasten to get out of the bed, nightmares temporarily forgotten with thoughts of spending time with your favorite person swirled in your mind.

“Well, someone’s excited!” He gets up after you and goes to get some clothes as well.

You guys stand next to each other at the beach and stare at the moonlight’s reflection in the water. Both of you were holding hands as you leaned into his warm body.

Keigo rants about his agency and rambles about how Tokoyami’s progress is improving.

You love listening to him talk about nothing, yet everything at the same time.

You smile and squeeze his hand as a confirmation that you’re listening to what he’s saying.

He pauses for a moment and looks at you.

“Sorry for being chatty, I’m just really proud of the kid. He’s doing so well.” he sheepishly smiled.

“Oh, no it’s okay babe, I love listening to you talk. I’m proud of him too. I bet you’re teaching him really well, I have faith in you.” you hold his face and lean in to give him a soft kiss, which caught him off guard.

“We should all go out together someday! I would love to meet him. He sounds so great.” you smile real big at the thought of Keigo animatedly teaching a stoic teenager.

“Yes, I would love that Dove! I kinda talk about you a lot and I think poor Tokoyami has been subjected to it all.” He huffs out a bit embarrassed.

“But it’s not my fault I love you so much! And you’re too cute for your own good. How am I supposed to keep quiet?” He whines as he juts out his bottom lip in a cute pout

You laugh loudly. What did you do to deserve this angel of a man, you’ll never know but will be eternally grateful for.

He joins you in your laughter, which is very contagious, and thinks about how Tokoyami would absolutely enjoy your company.

As your laughter settles a bit, you open the candy that you and Keigo grabbed from the convenience store and start munching on it.

You talk about your job to Keigo, the bakery you and your friend co-own is gaining business, which makes you excited to meet more customers.

(Maybe Keigo had something to do with that but you’ll never know.)

You love your job, it’s your passion, and you are so happy with how far you have come with life with a stable job.

You continue telling Keigo about how a customer ordered a few dozen pastries, and you had naively thought that they were going to eat it all themself, but then they clarified it was for their coworkers. Which made you very embarrassed but is a funny story to tell.

“Babe, I don’t even know why I thought they would eat them all!” You grab your stomach and try not to laugh out the candy in your mouth.

He laughs with you and doubles over, finding your assumption hilarious.

God, everything was perfect about him. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Listening to his laugh was heavenly. It’s deep and soft that leaves a fuzzy feeling in the pit of your tummy and a flush to your face.

You stare at him in admiration and then a feeling of a rush of love going through your body, of pure adoration and caring.. So you do the most reasonable thing that came to mind.

You attack him.

Jumping on him and attacking his face and neck with kisses filled with the most love in your heart.

The kisses made blood rush to his head and his wings puffed up. He laughed some more and grabbed your waist to steady you and keep you close, hoping this bliss and stream of kisses would last forever.

As your kisses got softer and more gentle, you held his face and looked at him.

You would give him the world, the stars, anything he wanted, you would make sure he would get.

He hummed as you both got lost in each other’s eyes.

“I love you Dove, I hope I helped you feel a little better,” he murmured as he pressed a loving kiss to your lips.

“I love you so much, Keigo!” you say to his face and then turn to the stars above.

“I love Keigo so much! Do you hear that? I love love love love him!” You shout at the sky as loud as you can and it listens.

You look back down at the man below you and you smile with your heart swelled with feeling, nightmares long forgotten as you give him another loving kiss.

You pull away as you grab his hands and sit next to him, leaning into his warmth.

“We should go get more sweets! Let’s go to the top of a building, I want to know what it feels like being so high up! I bet you’re used to it though, huh love.” you turn to him and continue “I bet the view from up there is insane right?”

He hums, focused on your words and your body near him.

“It is something I’m familiar with, but I would love to experience it with you. The stars look amazing from a tall building. Sometimes if I had night patrol, I would just go fly up and look at the sky. It listens to you and it’s comforting even though it’s so vast.” he looked up and silently thanked the universe for listening and for giving you to him.

You nod eagerly in agreement.

“The sky is so cool! It protects the earth, and at night we can look at lights in the dark. It’s really reassuring.”

You stand up and grab his hand, guiding him to another convenience store to get more sweets.

Something you noticed while you were looking at the mini cakes is that Keigo constantly kept near you, with a hand on your lower back or around your waist. Maybe it was just an intuition to keep near to, to reassure himself and to reassure you.

No complaints, though. You smile to yourself as you think fondly of how he cares for you.

Your legs dangle off a tall building as you stare at the lights of the city. It’s freeing but terrifying at the same time.

You lean closer to your love and grab his waist to steady yourself.

He keeps his arm around your waist, firmly to ground you.

“Oh my god, how do you do this so often babe?” you cling to him and try to bury yourself in his shoulder.

He holds onto you tighter.

“We don’t have to stay here, we could go somewhere else if you want to.” concern glints in his eyes as he softens, looking at you staying as close to him as you can.

“No! I just was not expecting it to be this high up.” you eagerly say to him as you turn to the view.

He nodded in acknowledgement and squeezed your waist to confirm that he was listening.

The city was breathtaking at night. The lights everywhere, it seemed, were still on, never sleeping. The buildings look like tiny Lego blocks from your high perspective. Sometimes you never realized how in each lit up room there was a person, with their own life, their own choices that matter just as much as yours. This was a reminder that everyone is the same, with their own life, their own decisions to make, and with relationships of their own. Their own Keigo, someone that brought comfort and loved them.

“I love life.” you start, still staring at the lights.

“Life is so good, it blessed me with you, babe. I have so many good things in my life and I am so grateful. I have you, my friends, the bakery, and I hope that everyone that lives with each of those lights has things similar to this. I hope that life treats them as well as it treats me.”

You tear up a bit.

“Even though I get nightmares regularly, there’s no good in this world without a bit

of bad. But I’m so grateful for what I have. Thank you for being here for me, Keigo.”

You look at him as if he held the world and the stars in his hands and smiled.

“I love you so much, I could never imagine this world without you in it.”

You hear his voice, slow and careful.

“God damn it, I could never see myself without you.” he choked up a bit.

“You taught me how to love, how to see the light in the world. If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I would do with myself. Maybe tear up everything with my bare hands.”

He laughed dryly

“It hurts so much to see you wake up from night terrors Dove, I only wish I could rid you of them. They trouble you and it hurts to see you get sad and afraid of resting because of those.”

Grabbing your face, he turned to you and leaned in to look at your eyes.

“I will do anything to help you with it, name it and I will provide. I want to help.” a determined tone broke through his choked voice.

“You already do so much for me Love, I could never thank you enough for spending time with me at night and sleeping with me. That rids me of it most times and I could never ask for more. Maybe I should get some melatonin.” You say thoughtfully.

“Of course, anything to help. We should get some tomorrow.”

Perfect timing for a yawn to break out as you lean into him.

“That sounds like a plan babe, sounds real nice. Thank you.”

You fall asleep on him as the sun peaks through. Pushing away the dark with the warmth of the sun.

Reminds you of Keigo. Pushing all the nightmares and scary things away with his presence alone.

Fully dozed off, Keigo smiles at you and gently carries you back home into your bed. Happy that you were able to sleep. He tucked you into your bed, changed and went to join you. He held you close to him, close to his heart, where you would always stay, safely tucked away and joined you in slumber.

You sleepily arose to a warm arm around you and peaceful breathing, smiling and pushing his hair out of his face and giving a soft kiss to his forehead you cuddled back into him and went back to sleep.

You would never want to be anywhere else.

#hawks x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha fluff #keigo x y/n

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unprofessional-bard · 3 years

Text

Chapter 12 - The Development, Pt. I

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: TW for homophobia, homophobic guy gets kicked in the balls. mostly angst: tense situations, back story reveal (hints to disturbing cult activities/religious trauma??). smut: vulnerable/desperate sex, reader and joel being in love and soft w each other.

Summary: The reader and Joel unintentionally get more tangled up with Kiki and Ward –going on patrols, doing town duties with them etc.– which leaves the reader frustrated.

Word Count: 7.060

Author's Note: I feel like I proofread this 500 times but my apologies if it still sucks 😭

Enjoy!

"I think we earned a small break, don't you think so, Captain?" Kurt extended a beer bottle to you.

"I guess so, colonel," You offered a vague smile and reluctantly took the bottle from him.

"Oh, c'mon, cheer up (Y/N)!" Kurt put an arm around you and chuckled ironically. "It's the 4th of July..."

"Sure," You patted his back but appreciated his enthusiasm nevertheless. "It just doesn't sit right with me that all these other people in the QZ don't have the- the luxury we have."

"Oh, I know," Kurt let his arm go and nodded bitterly. "It ain't just, but there's not much we can do."

You nodded as well: "Well, be back in 5, gotta go piss."

Kurt laughed heartily and waved his hand at you as you walked away from the open area to wash your face, hoping to wash away the guilt as well. It was your first time in a different QZ– Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to be more specific and you weren't exactly having a good time. A big part of your company was wiped out, which had ultimately triggered your survivor's guilt. The situation was out of your control when hunters, bandits and a surprise horde of infected got involved; everyone acknowledged how there wasn't anything you could do, except for yourself. It had been 5 years into this apocalyptic mess, yet you still had trouble adjusting to it... but then again, no one ever really did.

When you reached the shared toilet areas, there were only three cabins. One was occupied, one was completely empty without the toilet itself and the other was simply too dirty.

You heard heavy breathing from the occupied cabin, and instinctively decided to knock on the door to make sure the person inside was alright: "Hey, is everything..."

The moment you knocked the second time on the door, it opened just a smidge to reveal two men kissing, which made you gasp loudly and step back while alerting them.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry–"

"Oh shit–!"

You went to close the door, but immediately decided to turn around in panic, thinking: Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I'm really sorry! I just wanted to use the toilet since the others are, well– Uh–"

"Fuck, what are we going to–" You heard one of them speak, panicked.

"Relax, it'll be fine," The other one reassured.

"Look, it's uh–" You tried again, slowly turning to walk out of there. "I wasn't here, we never saw each other, okay?"

"No, wait!" You felt a ghostly hand on your arm, but he didn't grab it, just tapped once to get your attention. "Please, you can't tell anyone!"

You raised your hands up mid air to do a stop gesture, trying to get him and his partner to calm down: "No, of course I won't!"

"Wait," The other man with blue eyes stepped out of the cabin. "You won't? You don't mind... us?"

"Mind you? It's none of my business to begin with," You assured both of them. "What happened here stays between us– hell, I wasn't even here as we speak."

"Thank you," He smiled and saw the way he clung onto his partner's –whom you noticed had hazel fleeing to green eyes– hand with his fingers. "Most people around here don't... appreciate us."

You nodded bitterly, a small, sad smile on your face: "I'm so sorry, I wish I could do something for the both of you–"

"What's going on here then?" A deep voice called from behind you, when you noticed a little too late how the man with green eyes' expression shifted to one of fear.

You turned around to meet a face you weren't familiar with: "Why do you wish to know?"

"Why do I wish t–" The guy gave you an incredulous look, interrupted himself and asked. "Identify yourselves."

"Corporal Robin Lazewski," Said the man with the blue eyes.

"Sergeant Cole Doxon." Green eyes followed.

"And you, missy?" The man stood before you at arms length with a sneer.

"Captain," You corrected him. "(Y/N) (L/N). Who might you be?"

The man's sneer disappeared when he realised your ranks were the same, but he still looked displeased: "Captain Phillip Moore. Now, I'll ask you again. What are you doing here?"

The question was more directed at Robin and Cole rather than you, and you knew why, so you stepped in: "Nothing that should worry you, Captain."

"Oh, but I know what's been going on. Had my eye on you two for awhile now enough to know exactly what type of people you are."

"These men are from my company, Captain," You intervened again, lying through your teeth without thinking about the consequences. "If you have a complaint, we can gladly take this up to Colonel Kurt Greenwood, as he is our superior."

The name made Phillip take a step back, clearly making him nervous: "Tsk, no thanks. Don't need to get more involved with your kind."

"If you wanna say something, mister, go right ahead," You growled and took a step forward, risking the possibility of a few days of detention without hesitation. The tension thickened, and thickened, and thickened then finally...

————

"Woah, wait, you just lied out of your ass to him?" Ellie suddenly interrupted you.

"Yeah," You sighed. "If he knew that they were actually from Pittsburgh I would've been... fucked."

"Shit," Ellie sighed. "Guy didn't even know his own soldiers... and then?"

"He said a few unkind words about them, and, well, I kicked him in the balls."

"Are you serious?" Ellie's eyes grew wider, beginnings of a laugh bubbling up in her chest.

"Hell yeah," You offered her your first smile the whole time you'd been lying in your bed together. She came to visit you for the evening, which was no doubt Joel's idea but it was nice of him of course, and ultimately decided to stay the night like you both did from time to time. Your husband, on the other hand, went to stay over at Tommy's to give you both some space.

"Dolly, you were both awesome and out of your mind! What if he caught you? Did they find out?" She asked, squirming where she laid.

"I got away with kicking him at that moment, got the boys out of there and went straight to Kurt." You put an arm under your pillow: "Told him we had to make a transfer, explained the reason. He got mad at me, sure, but he had some connections in the QZ. Later on the guy made a complaint about all of us, but all Kurt said was: Maybe you should worry more about the people suffering in the QZ rather than two people kissing. Maybe then, you can control these uprisings."

"Man," She giggled. "I wish I met Kurt– all of your team. You all were so fucking cool."

You gave her a crooked smile, the pains of your old wounds hurting as if they were new: "He was right, too." She gave you a curious look. "There are more important things people should worry themselves with rather than town gossip, like survival and keeping Jackson running."

Ellie averted her eyes at your words: "Yeah..."

"Look, I may not have the same fierceness I did when I was 25, but that's never going to stop me from kicking someone's balls if they disrespect you." She huffed a brief laugh at your words: "Jokes aside... You know, you can tell Joel, right?"

"Ugh, I don't wanna think about it," She groaned and turned to the right, face directed at the ceiling.

"Take your time. I'm not saying you should tell him, just letting you know that you can, if you want to."

"Sure, thanks..." She stared at the wall for awhile, the moonlight shining directly onto her beautiful features. After a while, she said: "I don't feel like he's being too honest with me, actually."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words: "How do you mean?"

She took her time with her reply: "He ever talked to you about what happened? Before we got here?"

"Not much."

"What about my... immunity?" Her eyes shifted to yours.

You felt like a piece of shit lying to her, making the burden on your shoulder get heavier. The bed felt like it could swallow you when you spoke nonchalantly: "Again, not much. Told me there were a dozen or so more immune people, that they ran some tests and–"

"Yeah, he took me out of there. Unconscious." She sighed and you felt like your uneasiness was showing, but actually you kept your composure. "Do you really believe that?"

This time you took a bit long to answer, walking over the minefield with careful steps: "I'm... I don't know, I'm not really buying it." She gave you a worried look: "But it isn't my business to interfere, either. I really don't know what to tell you."

Ellie just nodded and continued staring at the ceiling afterwards: "I just wish..."

"Yeah?"

"Nevermind."

You nodded, glad the conversation didn't go where you thought it would, relaxing into the mattress: "I heard Tommy brought you one of the comics you were dying to read."

"Yeah," She quietly took a deep breath.

"And? D'you like it?"

"I did actually," She seemed more enthusiastic than a moment ago, which made you relax even more. "But there was another cliffhanger! It wasn't the final volume!"

The next morning Joel stopped by briefly to get his stuff for patrol, kissed you goodbye while you were having breakfast with Ellie, then left. That's when she spoke up: "So? What are we doing today?"

"We?" You raised a brow.

"I got a day off, and you look miserable," She commented. "Not about to let that go to waste, so..."

"I was just planning on lying down for a bit."

"You've been lying down for ever, it's time you did something else!"

"Ellie I really don't have the energy for– for anything, right now." You sighed and helped her with the dishes.

"So... you also don't have the energy for the new game Jesse brought?" She side eyed you, offering a mischievous smile.

You hated feeling like this, not being able to do things with people you cared about because you simply couldn't. Everyone was understanding, of course, but you hated how this feeling had become a part of you overtime; way before you had reached Jackson, and before the death of your family. You even found comfort in it to a certain level, but if you could, you'd gladly get rid of it with a single snap of your fingers.

"I'd like nothing more honestly," You wiped your hands on a small towel on the counter and looked at her: "But we'll see, you know how I get."

If there was someone who helped you get back on your feet as quickly as Ellie and Joel, it was Maria – and Tommy.

But sometimes you really doubted if Maria truly was a maker of right decisions.

It was your first patrol with Ellie where you two went outside, very much like the patrols you took on, but it was still a bit new for her. She wanted to get involved with the patrols sooner than Joel liked: She's too young, it's too early for her, he'd say, but even though it's no age for her to be even seeing the stuff she saw, going through everything she went through, you were on Ellie's side on the matter. She was capable of handling patrols with you, or Joel and others; she was also more skilled than all the kids her age, but a part of you also wanted to keep her safe behind the walls of Jackson.

After a lot of reasoning with Joel, you had managed to convince him and were on your way to start the ski lodge route with Ellie. Maria had told you you'd be meeting with a couple of other people to do a sweep afterwards, but she was hesitant to tell you who. You knew something was afoot, for Maria never was a person to mince her words; it initially gave you an idea about who might be waiting for you, but at least you had Ellie to help calm your nerves. You hitched your horses at the entrance, then walked through the doors. Your jaw clenched and your posture visibly tensed when your theories were proven right and you saw who was inside.

Kiki and Ward.

You internally cringed when you made eye contact with Ward, who was... talking with Joel?

What the fuck is going on?

"'bout time!" Tommy appeared out of nowhere, startling you. "You're half an hour late, we were startin' to get worried."

"What's going on?" Ellie spoke instead of you.

"Well, we'll be heading back," He patted Ellie on the shoulder. "While the others'll do a sweep."

"But we just got here?" Ellie protested. "I thought Dolly and I–"

"Yeah, Tommy, what the fuck?" You whispered and stepped closer to him.

He huffed, it was his signature I'm just gonna put it out here so listen carefully stance: "Maria asked that you solve the issue between you and Ward."

"She didn't ask me shit, Tommy, just told me to get my ass over here. Without a heads up." You sighed and he gave you an apologetic shrug: "She's right, but is patrol really the right time for this?"

"Just shake hands and try to get along, you're partnered up with him."

Your eyes widened: "Tommy–"

"It'll be fine, (Y/N), don't worry." He said reassuringly. "Walt and Bruce went over to the back, you can fetch them and start. C'mon Ellie."

She squeezed your hand in an encouraging manner and followed Tommy out. You rubbed your face and ran a hand through your hair, then finally turned and walked over to the three: "Alright, I'll go get Walt and Bruce, then we can go."

"Sure," Joel offered a small smile and got up from where he was sitting with Kiki, but Ward remained seated with his arms crossed. You took it as an indication to wait for the others to leave so you two could finally talk.

"Well..." You said awkwardly.

"I'm sorry for punching you," He said, straight out, without dwelling on anything. "I get ahead of myself sometimes. I can't really control it when I get angry, I– I never knew how to. It was my only way to survive... and protect Kiki."

You blinked several times at how genuine he was, even his hard expression was softened to some point: "It's, uh– it's okay. Thank you, and sorry, for your nose I mean. It was a reflex."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," He nodded and got up, towering over you, then extended a hand over to you. "We're good?"

"Sure, 'course," You nodded and shook his hand. He pursed his lips and walked out, leaving you a little stunned. You immediately sighed in relief and made your way to the back room, where your memories of fucking with Joel resurfaced and made you smile a little.

"Alright, c'mon you guys, let's go–" You walked into the room and right then, you heard panicked shuffling with a gasp. When you understood what was going on, you immediately stepped back outside: "Oh, woah–."

Were they making out?

If you were honest, you saw it coming, but it still came as a shock. You debated on whether you should leave or stay, but when you heard the panicked voices from inside, you stood there, waiting to apologise as soon as they walked out. It was Walt who opened the door first.

"Dolly– Listen," He was calmer than he sounded back inside. "You... I mean..."

"Look, let me just say this: It's none of my business, and I won't tell anyone, so... It's okay. We can pretend this never happened."

He blinked, a bit dumbfounded: "You don't mind?"

"Walt, of course not. As I said, it's none of my business."

It was then, when Bruce walked out shyly: "You seriously won't go tell anyone?"

At that, you chuckled and looked away, your eyes watering at the memory of Robin and Cole you had told Ellie: "You guys are safe with me– in Jackson. I know some people aren't very open minded here, but just know that you have my support."

Walt suddenly hugged you tightly. You took a second, but immediately returned it with a gentler one: "It's okay."

"Thank you (Y/N)," Bruce smiled sincerely.

"It's the least anyone can do – show basic human decency," You said and smiled back after Walt pulled back. "Come on now, we're already late."

The three of you acted as if nothing happened, but the couple couldn't help the smiles spread on their faces.

"Alright, Doll," Joel began explaining once you stepped to his side to get on your horse. Tommy and Ellie were long gone: "Maria asked us to show 'em how we do our patrols..."

"But?" You already didn't like how Maria picked you two for them, so you scrunched your face up lightly.

"You'll be going with Ward, I'll be going with–"

"Kiki." The name left your mouth with clear discomfort. Joel huffed at your worrisome expression and rubbed your arm soothingly.

"I rightly don't know why we're even assigned with them," Joel kissed your temple gently. "But it'll be fine, sweetheart. C'mon, we have places to cover."

You gave his hand a light squeeze and tried not to look as troubled as you felt inside when you both rode up to the couples, then went separate ways. You were quite surprised Ward actually let Kiki go with someone else– with Joel, but you kept it to yourself.

"So, I presume Tommy or Maria, or someone must've filled you in on how patrol works?" You began once your horses had slowed down the long path.

"Sort of, yeah. Joel and Tommy explained how logbooks work."

"Well, I'll start of with three things you must stick to, then– always. One: Stealth is key to everything. Keep quiet and don't draw any attention to yourself. Two: Your partner is technically your life support. You don't leave them behind, but back them up when they get into trouble and plan routes or approach tactics together. Three: If you come across anything you can't handle– anything at all, you bring your ass back to town."

"Yes ma'am," It was the first time you saw him offer the smallest smile, which softened his hardened features.

For awhile, you rode quietly, until he asked: "Say... Where you from?"

You raised a brow at his question: "Well, would you believe me if I said I don't remember?"

"How is that possible?" He tsked.

"I– I don't know," You chuckled with a hint of bitterness. "I only remember moving to San Francisco with my parents when I was... Around two?"

"Oh so you're a Californian..."

"Well, I suppose. What–" You saw the weird expression on his face: "Where are you from?"

"Idaho."

"Oh, and you're a potato farmer!"

You both shared a chuckle when he continued: "I wish that was the case. Would've traded everything to have been a potato farmer my whole life than..."

"Than what?"

"The shit I went through ever since the world fell apart."

You shrugged: "Don't we all?"

"I don't know about you, but none of those people in there –except for Kiki– would've preferred living as farmers..."

"What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, broke eye contact and his whole stance changed. It took him a few silent moments, but he spoke eventually: "When the infection took over, a small church in our town offered food and protection to everyone there. They barricaded the whole town in a short time, a lot of people died in the process, but we actually made a safe environment– not as strong and well protected like here, though. The infected weren't occupying that part of the city too much, either, so we just made decent living... But in time, the priest of the church started controlling the community. In months everyone was on their knees praying– beggin' for forgiveness for their sins so that they survive this shit..."

"Oh..." You flinched, feeling sorry for him, your heartbeat picking up in worry. You were also unintentionally expecting him to get this story somewhere, pull out a gun and shoot you, or stab you with his knife– you were expecting an Axel case. They might have come all this way just to avenge a loved one who you might have killed, and even though your mind screamed that the scenario had no way of making sense, you still kept your hand on your pistol which was strapped to the side of your thigh that he couldn't see.

"It was fucked up, and I was young, I had no choice but to follow my parents... They died years later and that was when I met Kiki. She was so pretty, and– and kind to me. I really liked her, we were around... 18 and 20 at the time, I think. She helped me mourn my parents, we made really good company. Soon I realised I was falling in love with her."

Hearing these words from him freaked you out a little, if you were honest, because they didn't look very in love; but you were also curious about what the hell had happened to them.

"A year or so later we, uh– Understand this, we had to keep it a secret. If the priest didn't see a couple fit, they'd get punished, but if he did, he'd force them to... Have children, to– y'know."

You couldn't hide the disgust on your face, but he was too focused on somewhere else to notice it, the sorrow and trauma on his face making you feel bad for him.

"We didn't know if we were more scared of the punishment, or Kiki getting pregnant– neither of us wanted a child, we were so young..."

For a moment he looked guilty for saying that, but when you reassured him that you understood, he still looked guilty and regretful: "Naturally."

"Not too long later people started picking up on what type of relationship we had. One time one of the priest's..." A suden wave of rage washed over him– He spat out the next word: "Whores, caught us hugging each other, then we were brought before the priest. He didn't see us fit because we didn't take anyone's permission to get together."

Your brows also drew closer in anger as you listened: "I'm really sorry you two had to go through that."

"It doesn't matter, it was long ago; we escaped, and now we're here," Ward suddenly fixed his posture, looking thoughtful and upset at the same time. The conversation had come to an end.

"Listen, if you ever wanna talk to someone," You spoke hesitantly. "Our head doc Katherine holds weekly, uh, conversations," You couldn't bring yourself to say therapy, even though he'd find out sooner or later.

"I don't– I don't wanna talk about it," He huffed angrily and side eyed you where he sat.

"You seem like you need to, is all I'm saying," You ran a hand through your hair, wiping some sweat off your forehead in the meanwhile. "It's okay to do that, y'know."

"I don't need it!" He growled and turned his head towards you in a harsh motion. "I don't need your– stupid conversations–"

"Hey," You pulled on the reins in your hand, hard, and came to a stop. He mirrored your movements when you growled back: "Those stupid conversations actually help people. They saved god knows how many townsfolk, and participating in them doesn't make you less of a man."

"That's not what this is about."

Sure you wanted to counter, the look of offense in his face telling you everything you had to know, but kept your tongue: "I just suggested you could go, nobody's forcing you to! Keep it in the corner of your mind if you want, I don't care what you do."

With that you started riding again, missing the look of regret and worry on his face. When he reached your side a few moments later, he spoke quietly, softer: "You're right, I'm sorry."

You nodded: "Try not to take things personally, we're not your enemies. We're just trying to help."

The rest of the ride was quiet, but the good outcome of both you and Joel's pairing with the couple unfortunately had a bad outcome for you. Maria asked you and Joel to be patient and stick to them for a month or so– at least until they start to really fit in. You had to accept, thinking of how when you first came here Walt had switched his partner's because he was the first person one to get along with you.

The problem was, you weren't exactly getting along with them, or Kiki more precisely.

You didn't know if it was because of your pride or your reluctance to make a scene about it, but you kept quiet about your suspicions about how Kiki undeniably took a liking to Joel. When you subtly asked a question about how Kiki behaved on patrol, he nonchalantly explained how she picked up pretty quickly and appeared to be a much more normal person; but you left out the bit that whenever you or her husband appeared, she'd hiss like a cat.

Maybe you were simply jealous that a pretty woman like Kiki was hitting on Joel, even though you never doubted his intentions for a second. He seemed very oblivious to her and your hints at what you wanted to say, and that was pretty much your only way of finding comfort.

Ward, on the other hand, always looked at the brink of a breakdown when it got too quiet between you two. Joel also asked about how he was whenever you discussed the pair, and when you mentioned their background and how troubled he looked ever since, he raised a brow. He also mentioned how Kiki started wearing t-shirts throughout the week –sleeveless clothing– and he thought it had to do with some sort of survival condition related trauma, while you had other theories.

Theories that you, once more, kept to yourself.

Because there were always two ends on situations like this: Your theories were correct – she was right all along! or, you thought too much of it – you're so dramatic!

It was a little frustrating, not being able to tell these to any memebers of your family, except for Ellie, who came to understand– probably better than Joel or the others would.

"Yikes, I'm sorry, Dolly," She looked troubled at your worrisome expression when you finally broke and told her about your suspicions.

"Morton's fucking fork," You sighed and ran a hand through your hair nervously. "I honestly don't know what to do, it's too early to say anything but at the same time I feel like it'll be too late if I keep it to myself."

"Well, no matter what happens," She rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. "I'll be by your side. Always."

The words caught you off guard, the frustration of bottled up feelings and the subconscious weight of keeping the truth about what happened with the Fireflies from Ellie finally shattering and setting a few drops of tears free.

"Thank you– Oh, Ellie," She hugged you where she stood while you remained seated on your chair in the kitchen. "What would I do without you?"

"I know, I'm the light of your life," She joked, which made you chuckle briefly.

"Look, I also want you to know that–" You pulled back and took her hands in yours, then looked her straight in the eyes: "That I'd do anything for you. Whatever happens, I'll be on your side too, even if I can't intervene."

An emotional scene between a girl who found her mother figure, and a broken soldier longing for a deeper sense of tranquility eventually finding it in a girl– something she thought she'd never find.

"Christ, Joel," You immediately got up from where you were sitting in the living room and ran up to your husband as soon as you saw his dirty, tired state. It was god knows what in the morning but you couldn't sleep, thoughts of Kiki and Joel keeping you up for the second time ever since your mutual patrols started three and a half weeks ago.

"What're you still doin' up?" You carefully looked him up and down with worried eyes and ignored his exhausted sigh. You quickly but carefully hugged him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

"Are you hurt?" You asked quietly after he immediately put his arm around your waist.

"Nope, just sore," He closed his eyes. "And a little dirty. Why aren't you asleep?"

You pulled back slowly and looked into his eyes, shrugging: "Couldn't sleep. And good thing I didn't."

"Dolly..."

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." You tugged on his large hand and led him up to your bathroom. After you arranged the tub to fill, you helped undress him, his pale face and tired eyes made you put extra effort to be as delicate as possible.

"You wanna talk about it?" You said after dropping his t-shirt into the laundry basket, while he took off his pants beside the door.

"There ain't much to talk about. We just..." You could feel your heart beat in your ears as you took his pants from him and repeated your motion, but froze in your place when he spoke again: "She saved me."

Your brows shot up quickly and the ache of keeping them crossed in a worried expression for so long immediately made its presence known: "My flashlight gave out, was tryin' to shake it back to life when a stalker grabbed me."

Joel scratched the back of his neck and lowered his head while you just stared and moved towards him slowly, his voice quiet: "I felt its– Its teeth on my neck right before Kiki jumped on it."

"Joel..." You sighed the moment you stopped walking, whispered, gulped and realised how bad your throat ached. He raised his head and gave you an utterly wrecking look, which immediately triggered you to walk over to him and hug him. His arms quickly shot up and wrapped themselves around your back. He buried his face into your neck this time and your hands ran through his hair, caressing the back of his neck soothingly. The way his arms embraced you was tight, but not enough to crush you– just enough to remind you where you belonged.

Home. That's what you felt like.

For the first time in many, many years, you finally found home again.

That exact feeling that made your eyes blurry with tears had struck first after fifteen years into the apocalypse, and it was the night after a particularly tough mission to handle some hunters around the area. The team had almost lost Kurt and Robin, the fear had been very overwhelming. The intensity of it all was nerve-wracking for everyone, so when Robin was back with Cole, they broke down crying in each other's arms. You couldn't bare to see them like that, so you joined with quiet whimpers and hugged them where they sat on the ground. Slowly, the rest of the group had joined, and when finally Kurt put his arms around you and them, everyone calmed down. That was home.

Family.

You inhaled his scent with tears in your eyes and a barbed wire around your throat, then hugged him tighter; the realisation of what might have happened had Kiki not been there washing over you like a tidal wave. All these months of doubting her– maybe you misunderstood her? Were you too cruel to Kiki in your mind? You sure as hell owed her now, you were more than grateful for what she did.

A sharp intake of breath from Joel and the warm wetness you felt on your neck confirmed that he was crying, so you turned your head a little to kiss his neck softly. It was rare that Joel cried, let alone open up like this, so you let him cry on your shoulder for as log as he needed. He didn't make a sound other than his occasional sniffs and sighs.

"I need you (Y/N)," He murmured after calming down a few minutes later, slowly shifting his arms downwards and kissing you deeply, pulling you flush against him. You kissed back, sighing into his mouth and slithering your hands down his back to the waistband of his underwear. You devoured each other at the doorway while the tub was still filling, the chilly yet still warm July night creating a thin layer of sweat between your bodies. He softly pushed you up against the doorframe, and his movements became more rushed the more your tongues danced against each other.

"Joel, baby wait," You pulled back and he stopped immediately. "The bath..."

You kissed a tear that was hanging on the edge of his cheek and reluctantly slipped away from his hold to turn the faucet off, and before you could turn back around, you felt his hands slowly sneak their way under your shirt and smiled softly at the feel. You turned completely, while he carefully walked you over to the counter and pushed you against the edge between the two sinks. He started peppering urgent kisses on your neck, making you sigh a quiet moan as your eyes closed, his hands roaming your body and eventually taking off the sleeveless undershirt off of you.

"What about the– the bath?" You barely managed to ask when he softly bit and kissed on the skin of your breasts, then moved down to tug your shorts down your legs.

"Later," He groaned when he saw the sight before him and immediately went to suck a few marks around your breasts, gently biting your nipples the way you liked it. You moaned and wrapped a leg around his waist so you could have his erection pressing directly against your pussy.

He lifted you up slightly and sat you on the cold counter, making you sigh as he settled between your legs, pulling his underwear off only for his erection to spring against your inner thigh. He was getting harder by the second, but before he lined himself up, he made sure you were taken care of to begin with. While massaging your inner thighs, he carefully bit and sucked on your neck, rubbing the tip of his cock between your slick folds in the meantime. You moaned quietly at his ministrations, his hands feeling wonderful around your legs.

After a while, you reached for his length and lined him up, allowing him to push in. You let out a soft moan by his ear and he did the same when he dived into your depths, then wrapped your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. He growled, grabbed at your hips and thighs and started off with a slow but somehow rushed pace.

What you liked about a slower pace, first and foremost, was how you could feel everything Joel had to offer and how much more relaxed and focused he was. You liked it when he took his time, making sure you felt every inch and vein of his length– You also liked the tension building up more this way. With the patrols and chores taking up most of your constantly changing schedules, sex had started to become a bit of luxury again, too.

Your eyes opened slowly when he called your name desperately– moaned it. You slowly pulled back from your hug and looked him in the eyes, then kissed him deeply, his rhythm stable but the snap of his hips started to become harsher. His grip on your hips were equally desperate and bruising, but you liked it; it was also your own way of assuring yourself that Joel was still here, with you.

His pace picked up the more your tongues swayed together, then his hand went to the hair on your scalp and massaged the skin there, making you throw your head back and clench down on him with a mewl. Groaning, he kissed and bit all over your neck again, the skin slapping against skin making both of you near the edge.

He suddenly pulled out and away, gently helped you off the counter and turned you around. In one motion, he buried himself deep inside you again and moaned. You arched your back and he pulled your hair into a ponytail, then placed solid, sloppy kisses on your shoulders as he fucked you from behind.

"Shit– Joel," You gasped when he grabbed at your breasts, arms crossed and slammed into you particularly hard. He was getting closer with each passing minute.

"(Y/N)..." He groaned and pressed you down against the counter, trapping you between the cold surface and his hairy, broad chest while sneaking a hand down to your clit. He slammed into you three more times, which made you moan brief but loud ahs and ohs each time; your hands clawing against his hips and arms, leaving your own marks, throwing him over the edge when he thought about the pleasure he felt when your nails digged into his skin.

You both came with loud moans and held onto each other tightly, Joel pulling out the last second even though he really, really wanted to come inside you at that moment: He would never do it without your permission and talking about it first, but the topic was never brought up by either of you.

Panting while coming down your high, you were as disappointed as Joel was when he didn't fill you up with his thick cock– you were also as cautious as your husband about this, and maybe it was finally time to discuss it.

After recollecting yourselves, you both moved into the lukewarm water in comfortable silence, Joel laying against you between your legs and holding onto your hands which you had wrapped around his chest in a hug, resting his head against your own.

Some time later, when you felt yourself dozing off, Joel hummed quietly: "If you're gonna sleep let's move to bed."

"How did you..."

"Your heartbeat got real slow, figured you were dozin' off," He slowly got up with a phantom smile on his lips and looked into your sleepy eyes. This small gesture made you smile back, and after he took your hand in his and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles, you got cleaned and out of the bath. There was much to be said, but sleep overcame you both as soon as you laid on the soft, inviting mattress.

The next morning, Joel had some business in town with Tommy while it was your day off, so you both had the opportunity to talk during breakfast. After some discussion and honesty about how you felt towards Kiki, Joel figured there'd be nothing a good dinner wouldn't fix. You had to agree because of your self-doubt, maybe this dinner would help you understand Kiki's intentions better, and it would also be your way of thanking her for saving Joel.

"I have to tell you somethin', but promise me–" Joel chewed on his scrambled eggs after your reluctant agreement to the dinner. "–You won't get mad?"

You rolled your eyes and offered a small smirk after finishing your bite: "When do I ever get mad at you?"

"Oh?" He raised a brow. "Well, I was startin' to think you were jealous of Kiki, is all."

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp: "I am no such thing! Joel Miller–"

"Oh boy," He took a sip off his coffee, having made his point.

You took a deep breath, rolled your eyes while they were closed and grabbed your own cup: "Look, I'm not jealous, I just..."

"Just what?"

You chewed on your lower lip while staring two holes into the cup in your hands, took your time to think: "I'm just worried."

"What's got you worried, sweetpea?" His expression immediately softened as he leaned forward, the pet name easing the tension in your heart a little.

"They're– really odd, okay?" You spoke quietly, occasionally meeting his eyes. "Doesn't it bother you just how different they act when they're not around each other?"

"Where're you gettin' with this?"

"I just don't want another Axel case." The room fell to a deafening silence when you said his name, but you continued when he didn't say anything: "Look, I simply can't help but think they're trying to get close to us on purpose."

"Oh darlin'," His eyes widened slightly as he got off his chair and stood beside you in a quick motion, putting his warm hands on your bare shoulders. "I understand what's got you all worried, but I'm sure this is all because of Maria puttin' us together for patrol. Don't worry your pretty little head with all o' that." He pressed you against his body in a hug, gently massaging your shoulders as he did: "Now, I gotta get goin', but when I come back I'll do somethin' to ease all that stress built up in these strong muscles of yours, huh?" He softly digged his fingers into your shoulder blades, making you sigh as you realised they were indeed very stiff. He offered a soft smile: "Agreed?"

"Agreed." You forced a smile in return, trying not to worry like he said. It was Joel, after all; if he said you had nothing to worry about, then you probably didn't...

... But that didn't mean you were going to shut out your gut feelings altogether. It was your instincts that always saved your ass when you were unsure about situations like this, or when you got in trouble with people in general. You could always beat yourself up for overthinking too much and being so doubtful of them, but for now, you were going to keep your guard up at all times and keep them at arm's length.

————

tags: @spideysimpossiblegirl @joelsgeetar @sherry-212 @peachymelon69

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ heavy ✦

this chapter pairing; snakehybrid!woozi&bunnyhybrid!dino x reader

genre&warnings; Snake Eyes!AU, threesome, dom!jihoon, oral(fem receiving), fingering, creampies, cum eating/cum sharing, breeding kink, dirty talk, but also a bit of crack lbr, jihoon and chan being little shits 😩😭.

notes; you don’t have to have read Snake Eyes to read this! It’s not part of the main plot! 💕🐍 also the--☠️ draft for this was literally from 2013 and I literally ran it through the hot setting on the washing machine and put it in the dryer 3 times to get it to what it is today ☠️ Also!!! the final chapter of Monster Mash!!! omg!!! I can’t believe it’s done AND to end it with a Snake Eyes au chapter!! 😭😩 Enjoy!! Have a great rest of the weekend!!! I love u!! Happy Halloween!! 🎃👻 💕

word count; ~4300

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

it’s heavy;

heavy how i want you so bad

heavy when it hits me so fast;

heavy and it’s driving me mad

that i’m never gonna give you up!

“OH MY FUCK--GOD!” A shrill voice cuts through the nearly empty living room; three forms huddled together on the sofa as the horror movie continued on the tv screen.

“Are you serious right now, Jihoon? Nothing even happened yet and you screamed!!” You tease.

You’d come to learn that Jihoon quite actually hated horror films.

And apparently so did Chan.

Your eyes scan over Jihoon’s frame squished into your side as his own eyes leave the tv for the 60th time that night; his grip on your waist tightening as he digs his face into your shoulder. “I can’t do it, I’m trying to look at the corner of the screen but I just know something’s going to pop out, I just know it, I--”

“Hyung, she’s right you know, nothing’s even--FUCK WHAT WAS THAT!?” Chan jolts at the screen, his own arms tangling with Jihoon’s around your waist in fear as the demon in the movie re-emerges from a dark closet.

You sigh, wondering why Minghao and the others hadn’t replied to any of your calls and messages; leaving you alone with Jihoon and Chan on this dark and rainy Halloween night. And you loved Jihoon with your whole heart and taking care of cute Chan was always fun but everyone being missing and unreachable seemed a little peculiar.

Even to you.

“You guys, it’s not even real. Look, c’mon, nobody is going to pop out of the closet later. I’m sure Mingyu would kill whatever came crawling out of the closet Jihoon and Chan, do you even have a closet for demons to come out of?” You tried to lighten the mood and reassure them as you pry their clammy fingers from your midsection.

They simultaneously shoot you a glare, crossing their arms as you separate yourself from their bodies.

“I really don’t get how you two are so easily scared by these horrible movies!”

Chan pouts, “Well hybrids exist so surely demons do too!” You shoot him a dumbfounded look, “That literally has zero correlation.”

“Whatever, I’m gonna grab more popcorn and I’ll be back.” Jihoon grumbles; eyes avoiding the screen as he scurries off to the kitchen.

The horror movie continues to play, small whimpers and screams coming from both of the boys on either of your sides.

You still don’t understand why they thought watching a horror movie on a rainy night was a good idea but they were determined to finish it by this point. And you, on the other hand, were getting bored. Horror movies weren’t that bad for you and you slept perfectly fine afterwards so you weren’t worried.

Unfortunately for Jihoon and Chan, that was not the case.

Jihoon had cocooned himself into a blanket with only his eyes peeking out and Chan had stolen one of the sofa pillows and had used it to hide behind when a scary scene was taking place. Biting your lip, you turn to each of them, watching as their eyes stay glued to the TV.

“Hey, if you two are so scared, why don’t we just turn the movie off. You’ll regret it if you can’t sleep later… And Minghao might kick my ass if he knows I let this happen to Chan.” You offer. Jihoon clears his throat, agreeing that maybe it was a bad idea to continue while Chan already started to reach for the remote tucked under the mass of snacks nearby.

As soon as he hits the power button, a bolt of lightning flashes outside causing the power to suddenly blow.

“Fuck! The demon’s here, I knew it, it’s because we watched the movie! We’re done, oh god, I haven’t even lived that long and Minghao hasn’t even taken me to a theme park yet and I--”, Chan cries, throwing the remote control haphazardly across the room as he tugs his fluffy ears down in panic. He immediately turns to you, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he continues to ramble incoherently against your skin.

On your other side, Jihoon has gone completely silent as one of his hands searched the dark for one of yours; his eyes completely closed in fear of seeing something in the dark that he didn’t want to see. You attempted to wrap an arm around each of them as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, their forms drawing even closer and molding to your body.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m shocked that you two are so scared of the dark right now.”

The only real light coming in was from whatever little bit of moonlight was visible through the clouds as you stared at the blobs glued on your sides. “Let’s be fair here. We just watched a horror film where things lurked in the dark, can you cut us some slack!?” Jihoon scream-whispers as Chan nods against your shoulder, “Jihoon-hyung’s right, I’m not normally scared of the dark!”

You pat him on the head, running your fingers through his hair as he leans into your touch.

Jihoon unwraps from your hold a few moments later, his eyes adjusting to the dark against his will as he clears his throat.

“We--Maybe we just need a distraction, that’s all… I’m sure the power will come back on soon, or maybe one of the others will come see if we’re ok. We just… We need to find something to do or else our minds will wander.” He suggests. You nod in the dark, raising an eyebrow, “Like, a game or something?” Jihoon hums back an agreement. The three of you sit in silence trying to think of anything to play but nothing comes to mind.

“I can’t think of anything, Jihoon.”

Chan sighs, raising his head from your shoulder. “We could play that one game, y’know, ‘are you nervous?’ I heard Minghao-hyung talking about it! All we do is touch or do things to each other until someone chickens out! It could be anything!” You could hear a smile in his voice that almost made you smile until you heard Jihoon scoff.

“That sounds like fun until something grabs you and it’s not me or her, Chan.” Jihoon deadpanned.

You can only grimace knowing that comment went straight to Chan’s head. “Why on god’s green earth would you say that, hyung!?” An exasperated noise leaves Chan’s mouth as he lets go of you, arms flailing off of the sofa before he gasps and balls up again. “Oh my god, what if something grabbed me just now, would you have done anything to save me?” You had no idea who that question was directed to but you replied with a simple “yes”.

“Are we going to play or what? The more I sit here, the more I start seeing demons in the kitchen over there, to be honest.” Jihoon was getting restless, his fingers gripping your shirt. “We don’t have anything to do anyway, we need to get our minds off this power outage, and the potential demon. I think Chan especially needs it, he seems to be losing it more than I am.”

You can only nod in agreement; after all, what could go wrong. “Should I start then?”

It’s silent for a beat before Chan speaks up. “I’ll do it!”

Even in the dark, you can see Chan sitting up on his knees as you turn to face him slightly. He pushes your shoulder, causing you to crash into Jihoon; your back to Jihoon’s chest as his legs open wider to accommodate your figure. It’s a little uncomfortable on the sofa, but Jihoon doesn’t seem to mind. “Are you nervous?” You can almost hear the smirk in Chan’s voice and although you were confused with the shift in the atmosphere and maybe a tiny bit concerned at where this was leading, you didn’t voice it.

“Not at all, Channie. Should I go next?”

Jihoon and Chan both make noises of agreement as you considered your options. You really didn’t know what to do, so you simply placed your palm down onto Jihoon’s sweatpant clad thigh and squeezed. A garbled noise leaves his lips and you can hear the stutter in his breath. “Jihoonie, are you nervous?” He’s silent for a little too long before he replies with a slightly breathless ‘no' and asks if it was his turn.

You nod, feeling his arms come around your waist as he rests his head in the crook of your neck; lips lightly trailing up behind your left ear as he whispers a simple “nervous yet?” before kissing the shell of your ear.

You had to admit, this was getting a little too hot too fast and you weren’t sure if this was the nature of the game but you weren’t mad about it.

“Um, n-no…”

Chan takes the lead, lips easing into a wide smile. “I’ll go next!” His fingers rests on your bare thighs, slightly prying your legs open as he makes space for himself between them; careful to avoid grabbing onto Jihoon’s legs.

By nature, you clamp your legs shut, trapping Chan’s hands in between as you yelp. “Hold on, wait, wait, wait, what is going on here!?” Your face burns red in the dark, almost glad the power was out so that they couldn’t see even though you already know Jihoon can feel the way your body warms up.

Neither of them knew how to answer, so you sat in silence; only your steady breaths heard as you sat between Jihoon’s legs with Chan’s hands trapped between your still clamped legs.

Chan clears his throat as he attempts to pull back his hands from between your legs. “I--um, uh, it--it was Jihoon-hyung’s idea! He told me to tell Minghao-hyung I was sleeping over and to not check in! And then he called Mingyu and told them to not check in either!”

“What!? Me!? Don’t you dare pin this on me, brat! We planned this together!”

Your mouth hangs open in shock, eyes threatening to fall out of your skull as they continue to argue. “I didn’t wanna do it! I told hyung it wouldn’t work! I told him we should’ve done it differently!” Chan cries; tossing his head back dramatically.

“Okay, both of you shut up! Jihoon, what is going on!?”

The snake hybrid groans from behind you, arms still locked tight around your waist. “Listen… I--It wasn’t supposed to go like this, okay? We were gonna finish the movie and then ask you if--if you wanted to, y’know, play with both of us. And don’t try to deny it, I know you think Chan is cute. I just wanted to treat you to something nice.”

Chan wiggles his fingers, still trapped in between your thighs. “But then it got all spooky instead and the power went out...” The bunny hybrid mumbles.

You could feel your body heating up at the thought of being between Jihoon and Chan. And in truth, you’d thought about it maybe once, but it was a fleeting thought that’d left your mind just as quickly as it’d entered.

“I--I mean, uh, I mean, I’m okay with this b-but Jihoon, are you really okay with this? You don’t have to--”

“I’m fine with this, too.” Jihoon cut in, his arms squeezing your waist tighter.

A thankful sigh escapes Chan’s lips as he chuckles, “Thank god. I’m not gonna lie, I’m already a little hard....” You can see his face clearly now that your eyes completely adjusted to the dark.

“We literally haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Shut up, hyung!”

“Ngh… C--Chan…”

Your fingers tangle into his hair, careful of his ears as he dips his tongue into your entrance. Jihoon continues to nuzzle at your neck, appreciating your warmth as the younger hybrid works your body up for the both of them.

“She likes it when you use your fingers, y’know. And if you curl them just right, it makes her feel really, really good.” Jihoon guides. His lips ease into a lazy smirk when Chan listens eagerly and brings his fingers to your folds; using your wetness to coat them before he positions his index and middle fingers at your entrance. “Can she take two at once?” Chan asks, voice almost eerily innocent to which Jihoon chuckles under his breath - the action making you shiver at how easily the two of them seemed to get along so well in this situation.

“Of course, she can. She’s always so good about taking my cock. I bet I could slide right into her tight ‘lil pussy right now. Couldn’t I, baby?”

You nod shakily as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of Chan’s fingers sinking into you slowly. He curls them almost immediately and you mewl and squirm as Jihoon’s grip on you tightens. “Oh, she’s so tight around my fingers already, hyung~” Chan murmurs. He thrusts his fingers into your hot cunt, tongue on your clit when he finds that you seem to like that best.

“Hmm~ Look at your favorite bunny hybrid trying to please you. Fingers knuckle deep while he teases your clit with his tongue. Are you gonna cum for him?” You let out a choked noise at Jihoon’s words and your fingers lock tighter into Chan’s hair when he taps your g-spot, wiggling his fingers inside of you to stretch you out.

“Oh, g-god, yes!”

Chan sucks your clit between his lips and Jihoon has to hold you down tighter as you try to grind against Chan’s face.

Jihoon’s fingers start to roam and squeeze you through your shirt; delicate fingers pinching your nipples as you mewl at the sensations they were making you feel. It was one thing to have Jihoon’s hands all over you but now that Chan was added to the mix, you found yourself getting addicted to the excitement that flooded your senses.

“A-ah, Chan…” The sound of you softly calling his name has him immediately pulling off of you, lips glistening with your wetness when he peers up at you through the dark.

“Hyung, am I allowed to fuck her?” Chan questions quietly. The snake hybrid bites the inside of his cheek.

His possessive nature screamed no, but the other part of him already felt his cock throbbing at the thought of you getting fucked by someone else and getting filled with so much cum from the both of them that it’d be spilling out of you.

Jihoon’s throat feels dry at the thought alone.

“Yes. Fuck her tight ‘lil cunt and fill her up with cum. We’ll breed her so fuckin’ good she’ll be begging us both for more.” Chan giggles innocently; a complete contrast to the way his eyes burn with unadulterated lust when he leans in close to your face.

“Ah~ Minghao-hyung always complains about me rutting against the pillows. Says my libido is too high, but I just can’t help it~ Finally, I get to fuck your tight cunt and I get to cum inside you and fill you up with my cum instead of just using my hand and making a mess on the sheets!” He grins.

Christ, Chan was really oblivious to the way his words affected you.

“Ngh, please, one of you j-just fuck me already~” You whine.

Jihoon’s fingers tug on your shirt, helping you lift it off of you as you’re finally completely bare to them both. His fingers immediately go back to teasing your chest as Chan sits up proper between your legs, pushing his sweats and underwear down. “Hyung, are you sure this is a one time only thing?”

You mewl as Jihoon pinches your nipples hard; nails digging into his clothed thighs in return. “We’ll talk about it later, Chan.” He replies easily.

Chan wraps a firm hand around his cock, moaning as he spreads the precum all down his shaft. “Mmh, I really need to fuck you now.” He mutters.

“D-do it…” Whimpering, you try to spread your legs a little more given the small space. “Mmh, m-maybe taking it to the bedroom, ah, might’ve been a better i-idea.”You mutter.

Chan pouts, trying to get comfortable as he rubs the head of his cock through your folds, tapping your clit as you cry out in pleasure. “No, what if something grabbed one of us on the way there?” He retorts.

Jihoon laughs under his breath, eyes focused on the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

Chan lets out a shaky moan as he sinks his cock into your tight warmth, brows furrowing when he can already tell that he won’t be able to hold himself back. “Ah, you’re so--so tight…” He whines. His cock was a little shorter than Jihoon’s but just as thick to stretch you out to your liking.

He gives you a second to adjust before he skillfully draws his hips back and slams his cock into you. “Fu---fuck, she feels so good, I--I don’t think I can h-hold back…” His hands are on your thighs keeping your spread; biting into his bottom lip. “Ngh, please--please tell me I can fuck y-you harder!”

Jihoon smiles, snaking a hand down to your clit as he starts to roll the nub between his fingers slowly. It makes your pussy clench down harder onto Chan who lets out a choked whine at the feeling of your walls clamping down onto him in a vice grip. “Well, baby? What do you want? Tell your cute ‘lil bunny.”

Chan’s cock curves into your g-spot perfectly and with Jihoon’s fingertips teasing your clit, your head already starts to feel fuzzy. “Mmh… ah, y-yeah, fuck me h-harder, Chan… I wanna feel y-you...”

He whispers quiet thank you’s into the dark; hips slamming into you as Jihoon keeps you locked in his hold. Soft whines and moans spill from Chan’s lips and for a moment, it makes you wonder if he always sounded like this when he was alone and rutting against his pillow.

And almost as if Jihoon can read your mind, his sultry, lust filled eyes watch Chan’s cock fucking into you as he whispers, “How’s she feel, Chan? Better than rubbing your cock against the sheets? Or how about your hand?” The younger hybrid whines, cock throbbing as he already feels himself close to an orgasm.

“She---She, hah, feels so w-warm and wet… S-Shit, I’m going to think a-about this whenever I, ah, need to g-get off…” He licks his dry lips, committing to memory how your pussy felt around him. “It’s n-not gonna be the s-same when I’m alone…”

“Enjoy it while you can, bunny~” Jihoon teases. He takes his fingers off of your clit, nipping at the shell of your ear. “As for you, don’t cum, baby.” You nod shakily, realizing that at least that much was still only reserved for Jihoon.

Instead, Jihoon continues to provokes Chan, soft giggles on his lips when he sees the bunny hybrid struggling to stave off his orgasm. “Ah, hurry and fill her up with your cum~ I bet it’s been so long since you’ve cum, huh? You probably have a lot ready just to breed her tight little cunt too.”

His own words prove to do damage to himself when he feels his cock throbbing in his sweats; he really needed Chan to hurry up. And Chan doesn’t fare any better himself; airy whines and groans filling the air as he feels his abdomen tightening the more Jihoon continues to speak.

“Fu--fuck, I’m--I’m cumming!” Chan cries, hips pistoning into you at a breakneck speed as he fucks his cum deeper and deeper into you. Your body jerks between them both, choked whines of your own mixing with his as you do your best to not cum either which proves hard when Jihoon starts to coax you too.

“Mm, bet it feels nice and warm, huh, baby? Hot cum filling up your ‘lil cunt, waiting for me to cum inside you too so you’re full of both of us.”

“Jihoon…” You whisper, hips moving against Chan’s as he rides out the remnants of his orgasm. You can already feel the cum sliding out of you from around Chan’s cock and your mind turns to putty at the thought of Jihoon still fucking you and making you cum.

“Alright, bunny, time for you to move.” Chan nods slowly in return, thrusting into you one more time as the two of you share a moan. “Okay, okay, move!” Jihoon grumbles.

He realized it’d take days if not weeks to get Chan’s smell off of you.

Not that it was a problem. He always had ideas in store to make it easier.

Chan slides his cock from inside of you, watching as the cum drips down onto the sofa in large globs. He licks his lips, already itching to get his hands back onto you as he starts to move back.

Jihoon slowly unwraps his arms from around you and moves to switch places with Chan who tugs his own sweatpants back up. “Can I take a shower after this?” He asks quietly.

The snake hybrid exhales harshly through his nose as he replaces Chan between your legs, pushing his sweats and underwear down in one swift motion. “We’ll all go shower after this, now hold her still.” Chan nods, ears flopping atop his head; satisfied for now.

He wraps his arms around your midsection much like Jihoon had done, chin nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he watches Jihoon running his cock through the mix of your wetness and Chan’s cum. “Mmm, hyung’s gonna make sure our cum stays inside your hot cunt~ ‘Cause you need to be bred, y’know? Ah, Jihoon-hyung’s so lucky~ He gets to breed your pretty pussy whenever he wants~”

Jihoon’s jaw clenches tight, a hand placed firm on your thigh as he uses Chan’s cum as lubrication when he eases his cock into you. “Fuck, you’re so wet!” He growls; already starting a quick pace as he chases his high.

He’d waited long enough.

“Ah, you’re so warm too, you feel so good, baby…” Jihoon pauses, licking his lips as his eyes meet yours in the darkness. “And all mine, right?” He thrusts into you particularly hard for emphasis; almost daring you to say anything different.

“G-god, yes, yes! I’m y-yours, ah!” Chan slithers a hand down your torso, fingertips on your sticky and swollen clit as he starts to pinch and roll the nub between his fingertips. You clench around Jihoon; overwhelmed with the urge to cum as they both stimulate your body.

“Why don’t you cum for Jihoon-hyung, hmm? Cum around his cock and milk him for all he’s got~” You mewl at Chan’s words, toes curling as you and Jihoon both feel each other close to the edge. Jihoon’s cock curves into you perfectly and hits all of the right spots inside of you that have you bucking your hips to match his thrusts.

It only takes a few more thrusts before you feel the tension in your body threatening to snap at any second.

“Jihoon, I---”

“I know, baby. S’okay. Cum with me.” His voice is breathy and raw as he, too, feels his cock throbbing inside your tight heat.

Chan and Jihoon work in tandem as your rushed cries of Jihoon’s name start to roll off of your tongue and his thrusts become erratic; groans on his own lips as the two of you cum at the same time. Jihoon doesn’t stop his quick pace either, instead, doubling it as he fucks his and Chan’s cum further into your pussy.

“Shit, that’s right, hyung. Breed her fuckin’ cunt.” Growling, Chan pinches your clit as you let out a high pitched whine.

“J--Jihoon, please, please, pl--please b-breed me! Get m-me full of your c-cum!” You cry; delirium mildly settling in as his hot cum paints your walls and spills out of you from around his cock.

“Ngh, that’s---that’s right, baby. Beg me to fill you up, hah, just like you like it.” Jihoon starts to slow down his thrusts just as Chan starts to ease his fingers off of your clit and you sob quietly at the bliss that continues to wash over your body.

Your chest rises and falls in deep breaths as the remnants of your orgasm start to ebb off and you immediately slump against Chan’s warm chest as the tiredness starts to overtake you. “Fuh--fuck, ‘m so full o-of cum…” You whine.

The two hybrids can only groan in unison.

Jihoon starts to slide his cock out of you; licking his lips when he sees how much cum spills from your spent pussy. “Ah, such a waste.” He comments.

“Wait, wait!” Chan catches your attention and Jihoon’s when he starts to move from behind you. Jihoon shoots the bunny hybrid a confused look when he ushers for Jihoon to move again. “Just trust me, hyung.”

They switch places one last time as you rest against Jihoon’s clothed chest, eyes focusing on Chan who kneels in between your legs.

“Hey, can I kiss her?”

You blush as Jihoon narrows his eyes at the other male. “Only one time. Make it good.”

Chan smirks as he immediately dives headfirst in between your thighs; lapping up the cum that spills out of you and onto the sofa. You latch your fingers into his hair by reflex, sharp cries on your lips from the oversensitivity as Chan collects the mixed cum on his tongue.

Jihoon has to admit, he’s a little impressed.

Once Chan deems it enough, he holds the cum in his mouth as he pulls away from your cunt and your hands fall from his hair.

You watch through hazy eyes as he stops when he’s face to face with you; smiling at you angelically. He leans in, lips pressed firm against your own as you moan into the kiss. And once your lips part, Chan’s quick to push the cum into your mouth; a little dripping down your chin at the messy way his tongue pushes it in.

He pulls away once all of the salty substance is out of his mouth; a trail of saliva and cum connecting your lips as Jihoon whistles in amazement.

“Wow, can’t say I saw that one coming.”

Your cheeks flush and Jihoon enjoys the warmth that radiates from you in between their bodies.

Chan smiles at you innocently again; reverting back to his sweet bunny-like nature.

“Can we find some candles and go shower now, please?”

#snakehybrid!woozi #woozi smut #dino smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi scenarios #dino scenarios #dino imagines #woozi imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #monstermash!svt #hybrid!svt #hybrid!seventeen

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rebrandedbard · 3 years

Text

A Bard He Would A-Wooing Go (6858 words)

Gift for @valdomarx: some good old mutual pining morons. In which Jaskier courts Geralt and Geralt is oblivious. Ao3 link in title.

Jaskier wrote a song like counting; Counting the years, the steps, until one day he might count the seconds and centimeters of distance that seemed to stretch like oceans between them. Each of them were like marks on a calendar, an entry in a diary to mark the progress. At first, he hid his true intentions behind false names and romantic figures, crafting beautiful damsels for the recipients of his verses in the time when he was still uncertain, but when the depth of his love became apparent to himself, he decided the day had come to be more overt.

He sang of a beautiful man with hair kissed by moonlight, eyes of amber still hollowed with the liquid golden honey left to flow inside. This he played by the evening fire, casting shy glances at Geralt over the flames. “Do you like my new song?” he asked.

“You inflate my image enough already,” Geralt replied in his usual gruff manner. The idea was to make him a hero of monster-slaying, not the heroine of some romance. Jaskier’s verses were too pretty and flattering, bound to be laughed at by the public. Moonlight and honey—such descriptions were wasted on witchers.

Jaskier frowned and played the second verse a little louder, ignoring his response. “I would rather sing it below a balcony; perhaps the artistry of the setting would help better mold your opinion.” He took on a faraway, doe-eyed expression as he spoke, strumming the gentle melody. “I would weave a crown of clover and present it to you. Yes, I think that would suit you fine. You’d cut a majestic figure, lighted by the stars. I would pluck one from the heavens and offer it to you so that it might sit atop your head, the very jewel of the crown, so that all might better see how brightly you shine.”

“Your songs do enough as it is. No need to crown me,” Geralt scoffed. He was not some divine hero. He was a witcher working for pay, and it was crude work. “You romanticize everything too much.”

“Oh, what would you know of it? You haven’t got a romantic bone in your body.”

“First true thing you’ve said tonight.”

“The honey was more than true,” Jaskier huffed. He played the verse again, then stopped, something new glittering in his eye. It was an idea, Geralt recognized. He was far too familiar with that expression by now to mistake it, and he knew there would be a long, terrible enterprise awaiting him. Jaskier started to smile, and he took to his feet.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he proclaimed. “I’ve decided that this will not do. A simple song is not enough! Let it now be known that it is my intention, henceforth, to court you with all the trim, all the pomp, all the circumstance and bells and whistles! You must know the pleasures of romance in their many forms, and I will leave no stone unturned, no mountain unclimbed, until you have been thoroughly romanced!”

Geralt groaned and closed his eyes. He was not interested in a study of human courtship. He was especially uninterested in receiving such lessons from Jaskier of all people. Yet he knew there was no refusing once Jaskier set his mind to anything. Whether he wanted to or not, whatever protests he’d make, Jaskier would not be denied. The bastard would dig in his heels and get his way, and this—it was this game of his that would at last be the thing to kill Geralt. This farce would not be something Geralt’s heart would survive in one piece. He retired early, hoping the declaration would be forgotten in the morning if he gave no reaction. The slightest acknowledgement was all the encouragement Jaskier needed.

The next day, to his surprise, Jaskier was the first awake. He’d gone wandering in the woods before sunrise and returned with his arms laden with flowers. Geralt had awoken to the smell of the bouquet waved under his nose.

“Good morning, my dear witcher,” Jaskier said, grinning ear to ear. “Welcome to the first morning of the rest of your life! A humble offering, still wet with sweet morning dew.” He bobbed and placed the bouquet in Geralt’s hands with finesse before bounding over to relight the fire and begin their breakfast. To Geralt’s even greater surprise, there were five fish speared in the dirt beside it. Jaskier had gone fishing, it seemed. Flowers, fish—would there be a third gesture awaiting him so early in the morning? Or perhaps being first up was the gesture itself. Jaskier was not an early riser by any measure. Geralt might as well still be asleep as unbelievable as it was.

“So, you were serious about that courting thing,” Geralt said.

Jaskier waved his flints in the air dramatically. “Perfectly serious. Honestly, Geralt, you must have known this day would come.”

And Geralt had to admit, after several days spent with Jaskier giving lessons detailing the etiquette of the high courts, the more fashionable dances of the season, a history of the textile arts in which he explained how his doublets were made from the harvest of the fibers all the way through decorative pleating, and the proper forms of address for peers in no less than seven countries … yes, Geralt ought to have known that courting customs were next on the list of useless trivia Jaskier meant to impart.

At first, there was not much fuss and they were able to get on as usual. Geralt didn’t know what he expected in regards to a courtship from Jaskier, but what little thought he’d given the subject conjured images of endless smothering, Jaskier waxing poetic, arms waving dramatically, attaching himself at the hip of his hapless, adoring victim. But perhaps courtship was a one-a-day expression and that would be all until tomorrow.

He was wrong in multiple ways. Jaskier did not leap upon him with some obnoxious peacocking gesture, but he took it upon himself to pack camp after breakfast. Geralt watched him shuffle about, humming quietly. Jaskier had insisted Geralt stay out of the matter and sent him off to ready Roach. Camp packed, Jaskier tied their things to her saddle, and Geralt notice that he’d been careful to arrange the bags just as he himself might, the weight evenly distributed, potion bag furthest in front in easy reach, the rest in the order in which they’d need unpacking come evening. It was observant to say the least. Such a little thing, really, but Geralt was impressed.

“Ready?” Jaskier asked, offering Geralt his hand.

Geralt looked curiously at it, not sure what it was meant for. Jaskier was looking at him expectantly, and for an absurd moment, Geralt thought he wanted a tip like the men who kept Roach tended to in stables in town. At a loss, he shook Jaskier’s hand and turned to hook his foot in the stirrup. He startled when Jaskier took his hand again and helped him up over the side.

It was ridiculous. Geralt needed no help mounting. Yet … something about the action stuck with Geralt. It had been brief, but the way Jaskier had looked up at him as he held his hand, he looked almost as if he’d been about to kiss it.

Geralt wished he would.

After a while of travelling in companionable silence, Geralt inched his head to the side. He looked at Jaskier from the corner of his eye and asked, “What are your plans for this?” wondering just how well Jaskier had thought this silly game through.

“The courtship? Oh, flowers, sweets, dancing—the usual,” Jaskier replied with a careless wave of his hand. He played so casual, and yet Geralt saw the mischievous quirk of his lips. There was more. Jaskier was a great lover of surprises, both in giving and receiving.

Jaskier fiddled with one of his lute strings, running his nail up and down its length shyly. “I’m surprised you’ve accepted it without quarrel,” he said. “Thrilled, really. Not to imply that I’m blind to your reservations; I know how you must feel about the idea of formal courtship: a lot of fluff and unnecessary nonsense. But this is how I express my love, and it means a great deal to me that you would allow me to share the experience with you.”

“It’s not such a great burden,” Geralt replied, offering a light shrug.

Jaskier laughed. “No, indeed, I shouldn’t think so! It’s a gift—the greatest gift of all.”

Geralt snorted and argued that a new set of armour would be a much greater gift.

“Ever the pragmatist,” Jaskier sighed, smacking Geralt’s boot with a smile.

When they stopped for lunch, Jaskier offered his hand once more to help Geralt dismount. After eating, Geralt put his gloves quietly away in one of the bags, muttering to himself that is was a warm day, as if Jaskier might notice and wonder. And though the air had a leftover chill of early spring, when the time came to ride off again, his hand felt hot in Jaskier’s. Geralt soon forgot his gloves entirely, had misplaced them quite carelessly among his bags or on the road. But Jaskier never commented on their absence.

In addition to the attentions Jaskier lavished upon Geralt, Roach benefitted from a surge in care. Jaskier brushed her coat nearly every other day, and it was shinier than ever before. He braided wildflowers in her mane, styled each morning length by length. Afterwards, he would brush Geralt’s hair, braiding it to match. It was the most preposterous thing, and yet Geralt could not help feeling a silly sort of happiness. Jaskier had been feeling much bolder since the first day, and had even allowed himself to put flowers in Geralt’s braids. Geralt would wake to find them on his bedroll in the morning—Jaskier wasn’t as sneaky as he liked to imagine.

It was new, Jaskier brushing Geralt’s hair this way. He might comb Geralt’s hair after a bath or wrestle a brush through it when it had begun to resemble a feral rat’s nest, but now it was more regularly maintained. There was no excuse of necessity. Geralt could close his eyes and enjoy the moment, Jaskier’s gentle hands at work, sometimes simply scratching his scalp, the brush abandoned for minutes at a time. It was such a tender gesture, Geralt at times forgot that it was nothing more than a demonstration.

But oh, Jaskier went to such lengths so teach! He had Roach re-shoed in the city with fine new horseshoes, claiming that the shoes would clip and clop and ring out the song of his heart on every cobblestone, and that the gait of her stride itself would be a reminder of his devotion. And truly, as they walked her to the stables afterwards, Geralt heard their cheerful mocking with each step, “It’s all a game! It’s all a game!” He was glad to give her the day off to rest, and to avoid the clippity-clop of her bright new shoes.

Geralt tried to be objective. When they spent the evening at a tavern, listening to a local bard perform, he did not allow his thoughts to linger on the hand resting over his on the bench. Nor did he read into things when Jaskier asked him to dance. Dancing—the usual. It was one of the most basic aspects of courtship.

When they spun in and out of the formation on the dance floor, when Jaskier entwined their fingers, when Jaskier pulled them close together, Geralt tried in vain to blame his dizziness on the spinning steps. When someone tried to cut in for a quick romp with Jaskier, only for Jaskier to snatch Geralt’s waist again in rejection of the advance, Geralt did not let his thoughts linger on how pretty the young woman had been and how well Jaskier might look dancing with her, nor the thrill he’d felt in that instance of being so firmly chosen against such an enticing offer.

Though there were contracts to be fulfilled, Jaskier found ways to steal Geralt away for an hour or two here and there and between. He’d dragged Geralt along to see a play: something very modern and poetic. They paid for standing admission, the cheapest and, according to Jaskier, the very best way to appreciate the art up close. They talked throughout, joking with the other patrons and laughing at the worst bits in near-vicious mockery. Evidently, that was the only way to enjoy anything so poorly critiqued, and a step above throwing rotten fruit. He bought them a little parcel of candied nuts, and now and then they flicked a nut at the very worst actor for having every other line fed to him from offstage. They came away laughing with not a single guess as to what the play itself had been about.

The next week they were on the road again, and things were quieter. The city provided so many forms of entertainment, but Geralt liked it best when it was only the two of them, nestled in the calm of nature. Jaskier was lively, and the environment affected his mood. Out in the woods, his gestures were sweeter, smaller, and sentimental. Geralt enjoyed this gentler aspect of Jaskier’s courtship, for his method changed between the city and the road.

Away from the excitement and bustle, Jaskier expressed himself more subtly. As if by magic, ingredients for Geralt’s potion stock would be replenished after one of Jaskier’s morning walks. He did not make grand declarations or even show any signs of wishing to be acknowledged for the little things he did. He simply did them, waiting to catch Geralt’s smile.

“Here,” Jaskier said, tossing a coiled bit of leather at Geralt. It was a braided strap of cord, burnt black over the fire. “In your favorite gloomy color,” he teased. “Your old tie is a twist from falling apart; I thought you might like a new one to tie back your hair.”

Geralt smiled, and he was sure he’d begun to build muscle in his cheeks from how often that had happened now. He admired the tie, running his thumb over the pattern. Cautiously, he edged closer to Jaskier and handed it back to him. He turned around, offering Jaskier his back and whispered, “Would you fix it for me?”

At once, Jaskier’s hands were in his hair, swapping out the old tie for the new. When Geralt turned back around, Jaskier had the old tie fasted to his wrist, looking down at it with a gentle smile. His eyes flickered back up to Geralt, and that same shy expression softened his features from that day when he’d presented his new song. A new shine glinted in his eyes, a fresh spark that danced in the firelight. Geralt’s words of thanks died on his tongue at the sight of it. His eyes roamed Jaskier’s face, taking in the warmth of his gaze.

So loving. So deceptively close to genuine. What a fantastic actor Jaskier would make, Geralt thought. He even smelled happy. Like … vanilla. He leaned closer, breathing it in. By now he’d forgotten the smile in Jaskier’s eyes, forgot how long he’d ceased to study it. Now he’d been distracted by the smile on his lips, taking in their color, the shape of them. He wanted a better look. If he touched them, perhaps he’d learn what made them turn up the way they did—might know how much of their warmth was owed to the fire, how much was owed to Jaskier. He thought they’d come nearer now, and he could just make out the small lines in them. The scent of vanilla was stronger, sweeter, and he felt the touch of Jaskier’s hand brush his cheek.

Jaskier’s hands rose, curling back around his neck as he leaned forward. Geralt blinked rapidly, tilting his head a fraction to the side. His slow heart fluttered to life in his chest. Often he’d imagined what it might be like to be in this very moment. Once, he’d even had the pleasure of dreaming it, but living it was more unbelievable. That Jaskier might kiss him was unfathomable, yet he was here, his hands reaching out, his lips parting, the nearness of him overwhelming and gloriously true. Geralt had nearly closed his eyes when he felt a slight tug on his hair.

“There,” Jaskier said with satisfaction, pulling away. “It was a bit crooked.”

His hair. Jaskier had leaned forward to … to fix his hair.

Jaskier was up now, walking toward their bags. The wind of the motion sent a chill through Geralt and he slumped forward, feeling suddenly cold. He’d been on the flat of a mountain once, standing at the edge of a cliff, all the wide world below him. Looking down, he’d felt as if the world might swallow him up. The sky above was so clear, devoid of even clouds, and he felt he might fall into it if only to relieve the endless void. That was how Jaskier’s absence felt. The wind which had commanded the mountainside was but a puff of air compared to the waft of air left in Jaskier’s wake. Geralt turned like a dying flower turns toward the sun, longing after him.

The bedroll was made smooth beneath Jaskier’s attentive hands as he went about preparing to retire. Geralt sighed and watched, trying to remind himself again that he was reading too much between lines that were unwritten: lines like bars in a cell. His infatuation was unfounded, and this scheme of Jaskier’s to educate Geralt in the ways of courting was only fuel to the fire. What a pointless endeavour. When would Geralt ever use this knowledge? To aid Jaskier as he pursued his fancy of the month? To himself win the heart of some stranger?

Jaskier bowed playfully and motioned to the bedroll. “Your chariot awaits to carry you off into Slumberland, sweet prince of the night,” he announced. He held a blanket in his hands, his boots and doublet set by his pack. With a flourish he rose and waited for Geralt expectantly.

Geralt obediently removed his boots and crawled onto the bedding. Best to sleep and let the moment be forgotten by morning, start over with another day. He turned on his back, waited for Jaskier to cover him with the blanket, to finish his joke and set up his own roll to sleep. Instead, he found Jaskier flopped at his side, his arm flung over his chest, and the blanket wrapped around the two of them snugly.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. His breath puffed against Geralt’s neck as Jaskier cuddled closer, hooking an ankle over Geralt’s leg. He settled comfortably on Geralt’s shoulder and closed his eyes, the most contented smile on his face. Geralt could hear his heartbeat slow down, even and rhythmic, lulling.

After some time, Geralt thought he’d gone to sleep. He cautiously shifted, rolling on his side to face him. Jaskier had long eyelashes, he discovered. This close, Geralt could see a number of faint freckles on his cheeks, the subtle wrinkles about his eyes. He rarely allowed himself to look when they were together at night, but lately that had become a temptation hard to resist. He looked now while he might steal a private minute or two without fear. There was one little hair poking out from Jaskier’s nose and Geralt chuckled to know how bothered Jaskier would be when he noticed it eventually. He reached a tentative hand out, resting it on the loose fabric of Jaskier’s chemise where it lay on the roll, too cowardly to reach out and touch Jaskier in spite of the arm Jaskier had around him. That alone was enough. That already was daring.

Geralt slowly closed his eyes, trying to lock away the memory of the moment. He opened them again for one last look as the fire died down. Jaskier seemed to shine in the afterglow and Geralt closed his eyes again so that he might trap the afterimage in the dark. Then, Jaskier shifted and there was a warmth pressed to Geralt’s forehead. A kiss goodnight.

Was Jaskier awake, or was he in a dream? Geralt’s fingers curled in a fist around the hem of Jaskier’s shirt, desperately wondering. The question plagued him as he felt himself slip away. He shuddered, the inches between them a frozen tundra, all his doubts denying him the feel of Jaskier’s warm embrace even as it wrapped tighter around him. His last thought before being claimed by sleep was a silent wish. He wished that tomorrow the game would end. And more secretly, he wished it would be replaced with something real.

The courting continued more enthusiastically than before. Jaskier broke from the conservative spending habits Geralt had instilled in him over the years. He did not skip about buying frou-frou delights for himself or wasteful fashions. No. When he loosened his purse strings, it was to buy an extra plate for Geralt at dinner. It was to stock the spices Geralt liked best and the preserves he would never indulge in on his own. Geralt did his best to object, but relented upon Jaskier’s insistence that, “It’s a part of the courtship! You cannot deny me this privilege!” And because Jaskier would not be denied, he even found a twisted paper package of caramels hidden away in his bag among the empty potion bottles.

Jaskier continued to cuddle up with Geralt even as spring gave way to the heat of summer. Geralt thought that the game would surely be over by now, but there was no end in sight. Jaskier kept finding more and more ways to surprise Geralt, and it seemed his knowledge of courtship was far more lengthy than Geralt might have ever anticipated. That such an affair could hold Jaskier’s attention for so long was incomprehensible, and with nothing in return. Geralt could understand continuing their study if Jaskier were courting someone in earnest all the while, or having one of his romps for a weekend when they were travelling, but Jaskier had not so much as looked at anyone since … Geralt could not remember the last time Jaskier had flirted with anyone. That made it so much easier to believe. And that made it so much harder to withstand.

Months passed. Jaskier’s courtship fluctuated. He was mainly reserved in his affections and things were not much changed from before they’d begun. There may have been more lingering touches, but those had always been there, since the day they’d met. Likely it was only that Geralt was more aware of them, looking for any sign, grasping at straws for a hint of truth, denying it whenever he found one in an act of self-preservation.

Occasionally the grander gestures would return, and Jaskier counted these as special days. He justified their indulgence by using the situation as evidence; usually these occasions fell on holidays or anniversaries of which Geralt had been unaware, and if they should happen upon a festival or event unaware, Jaskier would sweep Geralt along for an improvised day of fun.

“As with any courtship, one ought to take any opportunities to enjoy oneself as one may find,” Jaskier said, always happy to remind Geralt that the courtship was ongoing, no matter how many months had passed, as if he could not tire of such proclamations. “And what could be more memorable than a day together where all the world is colorful, all the people laughing? It’s so much more fun when everyone is having fun! You can pretend that all the world is right and perfect for one day: no monsters to fight, no prejudices to contend with, and no disdainful destiny pulling at strings. Just a day chasing whatever shining thing catches your eye, unplanned, unbridled joy!”

And truly those were days where it felt like anything might happen. Jaskier shined so brightly, dragging Geralt from booth to booth. They played horseshoes, tried their hand at throwing hatches and other games and tests of skill. One favorite event they’d come upon was a sort of artist’s exhibition in Oxenfurt. Jaskier had been invited to give a lecture on his composition process and he’d insisted on Geralt coming along. After his lecture, which Geralt had listened to attentively from the back of the room, they’d gone through the university and explored the other lectures and demonstrations.

There were great works on display: tapestries and steam-powered inventions, fastidiously cultivated plants with clippings and pressed blooms for sale; a perfumer gave samples of scented paper and described how the brewing was done, and a much better kind of brewing was explained by an artisan ale brewer who offered them small mugs of her product while they listened. Jaskier attended a workshop on embroidery. Fascinated by the practice after so many years of wearing finely embroidered clothes, he wished to learn a bit of handiwork himself. Meanwhile, Geralt was especially interested to watch the smelter, blacksmith, and silversmith at work, privately comparing their methods of crafting swords with those he’d studied in the keep. It was by far one of the more memorable days of the season.

Jaskier bought Geralt a small scrap of decoratively twisted iron from the blacksmith to keep as a reminder. It wasn’t useful for much apart from keeping away faeries, but he bought a strip of cord from the lecturing tanner and fashioned a charm for him, tying it to the sheath of his silver sword. Once more, Geralt chided him for wasting money on useless things, but he found himself smiling at the charm whenever he sat to sharpen his swords. Later on, Geralt had nearly lost it on a hunt and had lingered later after the kill, searching the rocky terrain until he found it.

By fall, Geralt had nearly forgotten Jaskier was courting him at all. It had become their new normal. He let himself indulge in Jaskier’s attention, taking a page from his book. Once in a while Jaskier would make some comment about their courtship to someone in a tavern when asked why he would be travelling with a witcher, and Geralt would remember and the heavy feeling would settle over him again, but the days were too busy and bright, so he soon forgot again. It was difficult to be sad long with Jaskier’s arm looped in his.

When they weren’t travelling, that is to say, when they spent a day or two in town on a contract, Jaskier had taken to spending time alone. He would spend a few hours in their room, or he’d be somewhere in town, a bag always at his side. He practiced his embroidery, following the sample patch he’d stitched at the exhibition. Sometimes he displayed his work proudly when Geralt passed, and other times he was quick to hide it in his bag. Once, Geralt overheard news in a pub that Jaskier had been present at a quilting bee, then the gossiping party fell to whispers when they saw the witcher approach. This was during the time when Jaskier was more frequently away, acting secretive and sneaking about.

The reason behind these mysterious disappearances was shortly unveiled by the end of the month when Jaskier presented Geralt with a new winter cloak. He held it proudly stretched in his hands. It was a dark blue wool. The hood and collar were embroidered with white and yellow flowers, framed by a curling green ivy. There were two metal clasps sewn on either side, and a close look revealed them to be buttercups.

“I made it myself,” Jaskier said, glowing with pride. “Well, all but the clasps. But I did design them—think of it as the signature on a great painting!” Before Geralt could take a breath to compliment his work, Jaskier swung the cloak around Geralt’s shoulders, adjusting it handsomely. “Good, it’s not too narrow. I was a little worried, but I thought if it fit me it ought to fit you fine. Had to make sure it was wide enough in the shoulder, so I measured your armour for a good estimate. Do you like it?”

Geralt blinked. “It’s for me?” he asked.

“Of course it is. Why else would I have been so secretive? I wanted to surprise you!”

Jaskier turned away, kneeling down to pull something from beneath their bed. There was only one—had only been one for a long time now. When Jaskier emerged, he had a large box in his hands. “And now to complete the ensemble,” he said cheerfully. He shoved the box in Geralt’s hands looking up at him in anticipation.

Struggling to process the enormity of the gift, Geralt opened the box mechanically. Inside was a pair of new black leather boots with heavy tread. Upon further inspection, he discovered they were lined with rabbit fur inside the cuff.

“There. Now you’ll be ready for the journey home this winter,” Jaskier declared. Then, just a twitch, there was something reserved in his expression—something that suggested gloom. He smiled through it and straightened Geralt’s hood, making it symmetrical. His hands remained a moment, poised on Geralt’s shoulders. He seemed hesitant. There he stood, looking up at Geralt, and he appeared to be holding his breath, waiting for something.

“Thank you,” Geralt said at last. He shook his head. “No, I … it’s more than that.” It was too much; he didn’t know how to express his gratitude.

Jaskier’s hands fell and he looked at the shining clasps, avoiding Geralt’s eyes. “Yes, well. You’re welcome to it,” he said.

“I’m not sure how I ought to thank you,” Geralt continued. It occurred to him that he could ask. That was the purpose of all of this: to educate him on courtship. Every good pupil asked questions. So he did ask. “How does one usually show their appreciation after receiving a courting gift? Should I reciprocate?”

Whatever cloud passed over Jaskier’s features faded and was replaced by a small smile. “Custom dictates that you should complement the handicraft and dress yourself immediately that I might admire you bedecked in my gifts,” he answered. “Go on then! On with the boots! And if you’re feeling especially gratified, you may accompany me to dinner and allow me to show you off in all your glory.”

Geralt snorted. “Long-winded way to say you’re hungry and broke.”

“Put on the boots, you ass; I’m paying for dinner.”

As soon as Geralt had his new boots on—and oh, how comfortable they were!—Jaskier twirled his finger in the air, made him turn and model. Geralt rolled his eyes but turned around graciously. Jaskier beamed and showered him with praise. He slipped on his own cloak, for it was a cold evening, and they left the little inn, headed toward the delicious smell of the pub and their dinner, following the welcoming glow of its windows down the cobbled street.

“Wait!” Jaskier cried, leaping in front of Geralt. He spread his arms wide and Geralt nearly crashed against his back. Geralt looked over his shoulder to see what danger caused Jaskier to halt in the middle of the road, only for Jaskier to sweep the warm cloak from his shoulders and drape it across a rather nasty, muddy puddle before them.

Geralt’s eyes went wide. It was a new cloak—Jaskier had bought it only a fortnight past. He’d carefully selected a cool green, saying it would remind him of spring when the winter made the world grey, and Geralt had seen him embroidering the collar of it in the evenings before bed. Jaskier had doted on it, and Geralt had never known Jaskier to wear a cloak. Ever. He was never on the road when the weather was cold enough to warrant one, always holing up in Oxenfurt or carving himself out a space in some court for the season. He’d taken such pride in the cloak, adding his own personal touches to it, making it quite his. He talked about it constantly, boasting that it would keep him thoroughly safe when the winter chill set in, that he might climb the most icy, terrible mountain and feel as though he were snuggled up by the fireside.

That was the straw to break his back at last.

“What are you doing? That will never wash out,” Geralt scolded.

Jaskier bowed dramatically and rose with a charming shrug. “What burden is a bit of mud, my dear? I’ll not have your new boots so soon sullied on their first venture. If I allowed that, what kind of suitor would I be?” He chuckled and pressed a chaste, teasing kiss to Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt flinched away, heart leaping into his throat. “You’ve taken this too far!” he cried.

“Geralt, I assure you, the fabric is perfectly sensible and there’ll be no stain. I specifically chose it for wearing on the road.” He looked at Geralt, picking at the end of the cloak still draped in his hands. He kept his tone teasing and light, but there was a nervous edge to it he tried to hide behind a laugh. “Come now,” he said, “don’t let my gesture go in vain; I was trying so very hard to be suave.”

“No. It’s not just the cloak,” Geralt hissed. “This whole charade! I—!” Geralt fisted his hands in the thick fabric of his cloak. He turned his head away, grit his teeth. “I’m calling it off, Jaskier. I can’t tolerate one more day of this game.”

“What game?” Jaskier asked. The false cheer left him. Honest worry furrowed his brow as he lifted the wet cloak once more from the puddle, clutching it as a child might cling to a blanket.

“This courtship. It has to stop.”

Jaskier turned pale. He trembled, though no breeze swept through the air. When he spoke, his voice trembled in kind, and he looked at Geralt with anxious eyes. “If this is about the winter,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry for being pushy. You’re not ready—I can wait. But we can move slower if that’s the issue, and I can give you your space until spring, just like every year.” His hands twisted in the cloak and he held it closer to his chest. “But I thought you wanted … you agreed to the courtship. And we were headed east together. It’s coming on winter, so I thought … And you’re not one for words …” he trailed. “I don’t understand what’s changed. Just this morning we—”

“This morning, you didn’t kiss me!” Geralt snapped. “I can hold your hand, I can dance with you and listen to your pet names, I can accept your gifts and gestures in an effort to understand your customs. I know you want to teach me about courtship. It’s important to you—or entertaining. But I can’t abide being kissed! Not as part of some lesson.”

Geralt’s eyes felt hot and there was a strange hollow in the pit of his stomach. “Not if it doesn’t mean anything,” he concluded. He couldn’t look Jaskier in the eye for fear of the understanding he’d find there. What pity or disgust would he see when the realization hit? What horrible expression would he find twisting Jaskier’s expression when he finally understood that his best friend, an emotionless, beastly, taciturn witcher, was in love with him?

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered.

There it was. Geralt’s head hung low. He silently braced himself. This was the part where Jaskier would let him down gently. Or he might make an awkward joke and pretend he didn’t understand, brushing it all aside and moving on as always. Geralt wasn’t sure which would be worse. He wished Jaskier would simply leave and he wouldn’t have to suffer either one.

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt heard the splash as Jaskier dropped his cloak once more to the ground. And suddenly there were warm hands cradling his face. “My darling,” Jaskier said, “let me be perfectly clear. No, no, don’t look away—you’ve got to look at me and listen very carefully to what I say. This isn’t a game. I’m not playing at romance with you. I’m not trying to teach you anything either. No games, no jokes, no tricks.”

Jaskier pulled Geralt closer, forced him to meet his eyes. Geralt looked at last and saw nothing but raw sincerity staring back. “This is real,” Jaskier said. “All of it. Since that day I stood and swore to court you and win your heart. Every action and effort I made was in earnest.”

Geralt felt the grounding touch of Jaskier’s thumb stroking his cheek. His heart remained in his throat, still uncertain, but it beat with a fragile hope. “What does it mean then?” he asked.

Jaskier sighed, resting their foreheads together. “It means I love you,” he answered.

Geralt closed his eyes. He felt such a fool. Slowly, he brought his hands up to cover Jaskier’s, pressing them more firmly against his skin. The touch felt new. It had a weight to it now, and he felt lighter than ever before, needed their anchor to keep from drifting away.

Jaskier loved him.

“How does a happy courtship end?” Geralt asked, though he did not wish for it to end so soon, now that he’d learned it was real. He was inclined to start over again and do it properly, no shadows or clouds to hang over them.

Jaskier let out a last nervous breath and smiled. “With marriage,” he said. “Eventually. But I think that may be a bit too soon for us.”

“Then before that.”

“Generally, the first stage ends with a kiss. I think that’s about right for where we are.”

“And … will you kiss me?” Geralt asked, opening his eyes again. He looked into Jaskier’s deep blue irises, and for once he could examine them as much as he liked, he realized. So he stared, taking in every brown freckle, every fleck of gold however small, looking as he never allowed himself to before. With satisfaction, he watched Jaskier’s pupils widen. He was sure he looked much the same.

Jaskier chuckled, pulling Geralt’s hands down and cradling them in his own. “Me?” he asked playfully. “Oh no, my dear; I did the wooing. The stage ends when you take the reciprocating action and encourage me to continue. Therefore it is you who must kiss me. If you like.”

“And if I do?”

“Then by all means,” Jaskier prompted. “Kiss me!”

Geralt tilted his head to the side, no more hesitation, and pressed their lips together in a gentle embrace. Just one short, reverent kiss: the fruition of his longing. It was not studied—was even a bit skewed from lack of practice. But it was freeing. He leaned back again as they parted, and he felt Jaskier leaning forward after him. Geralt smiled, his heart fluttering with a joy he never thought he’d know. This felt right. Felt wonderful. And now the tension was gone and he had nothing left to fear with Jaskier’s hands so tightly clasping his.

“So. What comes in the next stage of courtship?”

“Another kiss, certainly,” Jaskier said, stepping forward in an attempt to close the distance.

Geralt stepped back, a cheeky smile rising to his lips. “I’m fresh out,” he teased.

“Goodness me!” Jaskier gasped theatrically, and he was grinning right back. “Thankfully, I have one spare! Many, in fact, if you’d like them.”

“I would.”

“But, ah! I’m not so cheap as that!” Jaskier cried in retribution. If Geralt would refuse him another kiss, Jaskier would make him earn the next. “I must be wooed first, Geralt of Rivia. It’s your turn, I did say, and I’ll have you know I expect a great deal after all the work I put in. Rides on Roach, dinners cooked for me, breakfasts, embarrassingly poor poetry; then there’s the matter of you holding my hand when I ask, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to bed in the evening, fresh flowers, foot massages, the—”

Geralt stepped forward again and silenced Jaskier’s rambling with another kiss, smiling through it too hard to make good on the act. He laughed, tucking his face against Jaskier’s jaw as he tried to compose himself long enough to see it through, then he was kissing Jaskier’s jaw and cheek, his eyes, everything within reach as the giddy feeling rose from his chest, laughing all the while as though he would never stop.

Jaskier laughed and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders. “Yes, and as many of those as you can afford,” he chuckled. “You were holding out on me, you old tight-purse.”

Geralt pulled away enough to look Jaskier in the eye. “If I promise to woo you later, would you please just shut up and kiss me now?” he asked.

Jaskier huffed and regarded Geralt with sarcastic affection. “Someone has got to teach you about romance,” he said.

#witcher #the witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #my fic #a bard he would a-wooing go fic #gift fic #gotta love some mutual dumbassery

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zestyemby · 3 years

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Untitled Sam Wilson X Reader

So, this is my first attempt at writing and writing a fanfiction. Ony one other person has seen it and it is because of her that I have decided to post it. @writingtoforgetreality was super supportive when I sent it to her a few weeks ago and it took a lot of courage to post it. Hope you enjoy.

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Sam made his way up the drive with Bucky, discussing the situation with Karli after working on the boat. He hadn’t seen the cop car pull up earlier so seeing it parked behind Sarah’s truck made him furrow his brow.

“What’s up,” Bucky asked, not noticing the car right away. When he did, his expression mimicked Sam’s. The two exchanged a look before running inside to see what had happened.

“Sarah,” Sam called as he walked through the door, “Why is there a cop car in the driveway?” He entered the kitchen to see Sarah was leaning against the counter, arms crossed while she talked with the cop. There was concern written on her features and he immediately started looking around for the boys.

“Ms. Wilson, this is where she asked to,” the cop explained. “She said this is the safest place she could think of.” The tall man let out a sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide whatever was going on in his head about the situation.

“I understand,” Sarah replied. She looked over to Sam when he walked in, frowning. “It isn’t the boys.”

“Then what is it,” Sam asked as he looked to the cop.

“I’ll,” the man cleared his throat, “I’ll bring her in and leave you to it.”

“Her?”

“Y/N was attacked,” Sarah stated as calmly as possible, “They said she is in pretty rough shape, but she doesn’t need to stay at the hospital.”

Sam’s brow creased at the information, trying to process exactly what was just said to him. Y/N had been a family friend since childhood. She helped Sarah out a lot after her husband died and even during the blip. To think that something bad happened to her, it tugged at his heart. “Attacked how?”

Sarah could see the gears turning in Sam’s head, and briefly glanced at Bucky to see if he was doing the same. The concern was written on Bucky’s face as the officer helped the petite woman into the kitchen. “Thank you,” she nodded to the man, receiving a nod in return before he said something about being in contact then leaving. When she looked at Y/N, she wanted to cry, seeing the state that she was in.

“Attacked how Sarah,” Sam asked again, a bit more forceful, not realizing that Y/N was standing nearby.

“Sam,” she began, trying to calm him.

“No Sarah,” he snapped, “I want to know what happened.”

“I wasn’t raped if that is what you are thinking,” the smaller woman behind him sighed. She saw how rigid both men got when she spoke and how uncomfortable Sarah became. “After closing the bar. They were there when I took out the trash. Kitchen staff found me by the dumpster two hours after the attack.” She was trying to stay calm as she spoke, her gaze practically boring a hole into the floorboards. “I’ve spent the past six hours at the hospital and I just,” her voice cracked, “I wanted to be brought somewhere safe.”

“So you came here,” Sam asked, not turning around. He didn’t want to see the damage that had been done. It was bad enough he could hear the pain in her voice having to explain what happened. There was no way he would be able to bear seeing that same pain in her emerald eyes.

“I can be gone tomorrow if,” she trailed off

“Sam,” Sarah sighed, seeing how Sam’s fist was clenched tightly, “It’s okay Y/N, stay as long as you need.” She walked by him to Y/N and gave a soft smile. “I’ll grab you a change of clothes if you want to go shower.” The two headed upstairs where Y/N locked herself in the bathroom while Sarah went searching for some clothes for her to wear.

Bucky and Sam stayed in the kitchen, long after Sarah had left with Y/N. It was uncomfortably quiet and after about five minutes, Bucky had had enough. “Getting angry isn’t going to change what happened,” he pointed out.

“I should have been there,” Sam replied.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“But I could have stopped it.”

“Who is she?”

“Childhood friend. Been a big help around here with everything that’s happened. She helped Sarah raise the boys after the blip.”

“She’s cute,” Bucky chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Don’t go there Buck,” Sam warned.

“What? I’m just saying,” he defended.

Sarah returned to the kitchen with a frown on her face. “Sam,” she sighed, “I had to give her one of your sweatshirts. She didn’t want anything that would show her arms and I didn’t have anything.”

“Its fine,” Sam replied, hands on the counter now.

“She feels safe here because of you,” she returned to the stove, to the forgotten food. When Sam left the room, there was a silence before she spoke. “They won’t admit it, but they love each other.”

“Is that why he blames himself,” Bucky asked.

“Probably. Growing up, her home life wasn’t good, but she never let that get to her. At least, that’s what we thought. She was over one night in high school and I could hear her crying in the bathroom. Turns out her daddy had started beating on her, but never anywhere anyone would see. I didn’t tell anyone; it would have made the situation worse. Sam found out though and he was furious. He didn’t tell her he knew, but he started showing her how to defend herself.”

Bucky had taken a seat on one of the stools by the counter as he listened. He could picture how Sam handled finding out what happened. “What happened to her dad?”

“Committed suicide after her mom died and she moved out. That was around the time Sam enlisted. He was the one who convinced her to move, he didn’t want her in that situation if he wasn’t there to help her.” She continued telling the story while Bucky helped set the table. “She’s had to live her life without him before, but he hasn’t had to live without her.”

“He did though,” Bucky pointed out, reminding her of when Sam was on the run after helping Steve help him escape.

“But he was out there alive somewhere. I’m talking about the blip.” The two finished setting up for dinner and bringing the dishes to the table. “Dinner,” she called. It wasn’t long before the boys were in their seats. When Sam and Y/N didn’t immediately show up, she frowned.

“Give it a minute,” Bucky said. He could hear the other two talking upstairs, in hushed tones. There wasn’t anger in Sam’s voice anymore, it was more concern this time.

“What?”

He didn’t respond as the two finally entered the room. Y/N was holding onto Sam’s torso as if it were a lifeline and Sam was supporting her. When the two sat down, he quirked a brow. “So, Y/N, right? I’m Bucky,” he gave a flirty smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N replied.

“I heard you and Sam are good friends.” The way he emphasized the words good friends cause Y/N to frown.

“Yeah.”

Dinner was uneventful and quiet, instead of its usual joyful tone. No doubt due to the situation they had found themselves in. Afterwards they opted for a movie, something to try and lift the mood. Y/N, Sam, and Sarah sat on the couch, while Bucky and the boys sat on the floor. The couch had space for at least five people, but they didn’t want to crowd Y/N. About halfway through, Y/N had shifted and had her legs draped over Sam’s. No one said anything.

“How about another movie,” Cass suggested.

“You and your brother need to get to bed,” Sarah replied. They didn’t argue and headed to their rooms.

“Another movie sounds like a good idea,” Bucky pointed out.

This time everyone was on the couch, though Y/N and Sam remained in the same position. It didn’t take long before one of them shifted, causing Bucky to glance their way. Y/N was now curled on Sam’s lap, his arms around her, one of her hands over his.

“Are we going to address the elephant in the room or,” Bucky began, only to be jabbed in the ribs by Sarah. “What?”

“Help me do the dishes,” Sarah said calmly as she stood up, practically dragging the super soldier with her.

When Sarah and Bucky left the room, it was silent, save for the movie playing. Neither Y/N nor Sam said anything, but they wanted to. It wasn’t until the sound of running water, that one spoke. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Well, no but,” Y/N looked at him, “you’re here so I feel safe.” She felt his arms tighten around her slightly, causing her to rest her head on his shoulder again. “It isn’t your fault you know. I’m still here because of what you taught me. They didn’t expect me to fight back, and I think I did enough damage that they couldn’t do what they had planned.”

Sam tensed at those words. Just knowing that there was a possibility that they were going to do worse to her, it made him mad. He gently kissed her temple, lips grazing the stitches. “That’s my girl,” he muttered into her hair. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to say it louder.

“Hey Sam.”

“Hmm,” he kept looking at the television, though not really paying attention to the movie.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” It wasn’t the first time the two had shared a bed, but it had been well over fifteen years since then. “I mean, Bucky should probably get the couch and it doesn’t feel right sleeping in Sarah’s bed.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

It was about two a.m. when Y/N woke up to the urge to use the bathroom. Next to her, Sam was sound asleep, at least, that’s what she thought. She was quiet as she got up, and even when she returned a few minutes later.

“You okay?”

The sound of his voice made her jump as she pulled the covers over her body. “Y-yeah, just had to use the bathroom.”

Just as she was shifting closer to him for warmth, he turned around. “Did I scare you?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Sorry.” He carefully pulled her to him, only to hear her let out a pained hiss. “Did I hurt you?”

“Just a little pressure on a bruise. I’m okay.” She could make out his features, barely, with the moonlight that streamed in. Giving a small smile she closed her eyes, ready to fall back asleep. It wasn’t long before she felt his fingers brushing over her hair, and his thumb rubbing over her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered before kissing her forehead.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #the falcon x y/n #the falcon x reader #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #the falcon and the winter solder #tfatws #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #the avengers #avengers #avengers imagine #reader insert #fanfic #oneshot

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

The other marauder

Summary: Harry is five when he asks what means Wormtail.

Harry is thirteen when he asks who is Peter Pettigrew.

Harry is seventeen when he tells James that Peter is dead.

(Or how James would have dealt with Peter's betrayal if he was alive)

Part of my Jily Lives AU series of one-shots! I would love to hear your thoughts about how James would react to Peter Pettigrew if he lived.

Below the cut or over AO3 are just my thoughts (all 11k of them).

________________________

Harry is five the first time he asks about Wormtail.

It’s a September afternoon and the weather has been nice all week, so at the weekend they indulge themselves in a pool that James conjures in their backyard. It’s mostly for Harry’s sake and his son laughs as Sirius turns into a dog to jump in the pool, swimming and splashing water in them as he shakes himself dry. Harry’s happy giggles keep them all amused.

As the night falls and it gets cooler, they rest lazily in the lawn around a fireplace that Lily conjures for them, toasting marshmallows. James and Lily share a blanket, looking at the stars above them, while Sirius holds Harry, all wrapped in a towel, against his chest.

James is distracted, really, and he barely notes as Harry starts to read the numbers and phrases of the tattoos in Sirius’ chest. Harry had just started school that year and he had loved learning how to read and write - he was curious, his son…

‘Wormtail’, Harry reads out, and in the silence of the night, his high-pitched childish voice sounds louder. ‘What it means?’

He is looking at Sirius, expecting his godfather to answer him just like Sirius had explained patiently about his other tattoos, but Sirius doesn’t say anything.

Instead, Sirius looks gravely at James, who just blinks, equally speechless.

James doesn’t know how to answer that. He’d thought that Sirius had removed that particular tattoo a long time ago.

But now that he looks at Sirius’ chest, he sees the four names are still inscribed there, over his heart, like they’ve been since he was seventeen, each one handwritten by its owner. James doesn’t need to try harder to remember that cold December afternoon, when they were hanging freely in London and Sirius had declared he wanted a tattoo. He was the only one of them that was of age then, and James had watched rather enviously as Sirius got their nicknames tattooed in his skin, somehow making all of them really part of him.

James had promised he’d get a tattoo too, but he ended up forgetting and Sirius had always loved more tattoos than him anyway. In any case, James hadn’t thought about Sirius’ tattoos for ages.

Then he stares Wormtail’s name there along with the others, part of a group that he doesn’t belong to anymore.

That sight fills James with hatred beyond words.

At his side, sensing his stress, Lily touches the back of his head in a soothingly move.

‘It’s just a name, Harry’, she says dismissively, making Harry look at her.

‘Who is Wormtail?’, he asks, curious as always. Then he giggles. ‘It’s a funny name’.

‘He is gone’, James says dryly, and the tone of his voice makes Harry recoil against Sirius, clearly distressed over the idea of upsetting his father. Lily now presses his head with a little more strength, and James forces himself to relax. ‘It’s no one, Harry’, he adds more kindly.

Harry doesn’t look convinced, but he gives a tiny nod, staying in thoughtful silence then. His big green eyes are still fixed on Sirius’ chest and James sees he is reading the other words there, moving his lips silently.

James throws a shirt to Sirius after that.

Later, when he passes Harry’s room on his way to his own, he sees the light is on. That makes him frown, because Sirius had already tucked Harry for sleep, and Harry usually crashes after a day of activities.

When he opens the door, he sees Harry is on his desk by the window, his small legs swinging in the air as he busies himself writing something.

‘Harry?’, James asks, and Harry turns to him with a guilty expression that James thinks will need a lot of improvement if he wants to get away with pranks in the future.

Harry jumps to the floor, grabbing what he had written and hiding it hurriedly behind him.

‘Shouldn’t you be in bed?’, James adds softly, and Harry nods, running to his bed and getting under his blanket.

James comes to tuck him in again, passing his hands through Harry's hair to mess it, the way that always makes Harry laugh. Then his hand falls on Harry's tiny hand, where there is a crumpled paper.

'May I?', James asks. Harry bits his lips, looking very much like his mother when she is thoughtful, but he opens his hand.

James unfolds the paper to see that Harry copied Sirius' tattoo, writing in his trembling childish handwriting: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs .

He thinks of the night they signed those names on the Marauder's Map, a hundred years ago, and how, in that moment, it seemed they would all shine brightly forever.

He can feel Harry's eyes over him, apprehensive, so he forces himself to breath evenly.

'Nice letters', he says, letting the paper rest on the nightstand. 'You make your "g" like your mum's. Now, be a good boy and sleep, ok?'

'Dad?', Harry asks timidly. 'You are Prongs, right?'

James feels something heavy inside his chest, but he nods.

'Padfoot is Sirius' dog. And Uncle Moony is Uncle Moony'. James just acquiesces with his head, still silent. Harry's eyes are very big, the moonlight entering the bedroom and highlighting his young face. 'So who is Wormtail?'

James looks at Harry's face, at his curious innocent son, and, not for the first time, he asks himself what made Peter betray them.

What made him betray James . Was that James' fault? Was it Peter's ambition?

He doesn't know and he fears he never will.

'When I was in Hogwarts, with Padfoot and Moony, we had another friend', he whispers, his voice shaking slightly. 'We called him Wormtail'.

'He was like you? A Gryff… Gryve…'

'Gryffindor', James completes for him, watching Harry beam at the word, his hand automatically reaching for the stuffed lion at the edge of his bed, that James takes to give to him, watching Harry hugging the lion. 'Yes, he was, and in our year too'.

'Then he was a lion like you!'

James closes his eyes briefly and he remembers their first transformation, when James had turned into a majestic stag and Sirius into a beautiful black dog and Peter had looked crestfallen at being a small rat. Sirius had teased him, but that had been one of few jokes that James had asked him to drop it.

Afterwards, James had found Peter and had reminded him of the great accomplishment he had achieved by turning into an animagus at the age of fifteen.

'You should be proud of being a rat', James had said and Peter had beamed, drying away the tears in his eyes.

James supposes he should have seen then. A rat.

'He was once', he says instead, because he always wondered where was the courage that the Sorting Hat had seen in Peter at age eleven.

'Where is he?'

'Gone'.

'Gone where?'

James lies down at Harry's side, his eyes on the stuffed lion, trying not to think of the index finger that was given to Peter's mother as the only piece of him they ever found.

'Do you remember when mum's cat was old? And he slept very deeply?'

'Oh. And he didn't wake up anymore'.

'Well, that is what happens when someone is gone. They sleep and they never wake up anymore'.

Harry frowns in concentration.

‘They are dreaming?’

‘Something like a very long dream, yes’.

'If I sleep now, I will wake up?'

James smiles softly and places a kiss on his forehead.

'You will', he assures.

'Mum was sad when the cat slept', Harry murmurs, still frowning in concentration. 'Were you sad when your friend was gone?'

Truth be told, James had not known about Peter's fate until two days later. The first of November had been a rush of meetings with Dumbledore then the Order then confirming everything was right with Harry and just trying to understand what had happened.

It was only on the next day that he found out that after making sure they were safe, Sirius had taken his motorbike and had gone after Peter alone.

He only had seen the pictures of the explosion in the papers the next day. Sirius had never talked to him about what happened, other than saying Peter had tried to escape and had exploded a gas pipe instead. Twelve people were killed, including Peter. A massacre and one of his best friends had turned into a mass murderer.

James had never really grieved for Peter and he had ignored all attempts of Peter's mother to contact him. He knew she would want answers he did not have.

He had felt a lot of things for Peter's betrayal and demise, but it never occurred to him whether sadness was one of them.

'I think so', he says, not wanting to lie to Harry despite knowing he won't ever fully disclose this story to his son. He thinks of happy nights in the Common Room, in the way Peter always smiled to him as if he would trust James to guide him in the dark. James wonders when that smile lost hope. Somehow, it feels that Peter died long before he blew up himself. 'Yes, I was sad'.

Harry gives him the stuffed lion.

'Here, have Godric', he says, as serious as he can sound. 'He will make you happy'.

James smiles and hugs the lion before returning him to Harry.

'I am already happy. You are safe, Harry, and that makes me happy'.

Harry yawns and holds his lion tightly. James rises, messing with Harry’s hair one last time.

'Now, good night, Harry'.

'You forgot -'

'You are right, sorry. Good night, Godric'.

Harry smiles quietly, closing his eyes and James watches him for a minute before closing the door.

Whatever else he would feel for Peter’s betrayal, he knows he can’t ever forgive Peter for risking his family.

____________________

Harry is thirteen when he asks who is Peter Pettigrew.

It's the end of July. Harry is happy, having the Weasley over for a birthday party. James watches amusedly as the Weasley twins are clearly plotting something (even after all these years James can still spot a prank miles away), when he sees Sirius has arrived.

Sirius hugs Harry and gives him his birthday present, but it's clear something is off with Sirius. Now James thinks about it, it's been over two weeks that he hasn't seen Sirius. It happens from time to time when Sirius is overcharged with his job at the Ministry, but usually, Sirius warns them before he is on a mission or if he will become unavailable.

Whatever it is, Sirius seems to be avoiding him purposely, going to talk to Remus in a low voice in a quiet corner. Whatever they are talking makes Sirius relax a little, then they both turn to look at James, who just stares back calmly. He knows Sirius will come to talk to him about what is bothering him.

They don't have secrets with each other.

So James waits and he isn’t really surprised when Sirius comes quietly to his side and requests a private word. His face is grave, without any shadow of a smile, as if James needs another sign that whatever it’s pestering him, it’s important.

They lock themselves in Lily's office and Sirius takes a deep breath, looking at James as if he wished more than anything he could be saying something else.

'Peter is alive'.

James blinks, for a wondrous second not understanding.

‘What Peter?’

‘Peter Pettigrew’.

‘That’s impossible!’

‘We have a witness that saw him early this month close to Ottery St. Catchpole. Older, balder, but, yes, it was him’.

‘Who? Who saw him?’

‘Bertha Jorkins’.

James snorts nervously.

‘Bertha? You know what she’s like, Padfoot. She can’t see the difference between a dog and a crup -’

‘I saw her memories, James, it’s really him’. Sirius sighs. ‘Don’t you think I wish he were dead too?’

‘Do you?’, asks James, because he remembers how Sirius never erased Wormtail’s name of his tattoo, but even as he asks he regrets his question.

‘I went after him, didn’t I? I watched he blow up a whole street -’

‘But not himself, clearly! How did you miss that?’

Sirius shakes his head, angry, though James can tell he is angrier at himself.

‘Well, he was a rat - I don’t know how he managed to explode and turn at the same time, but then again we did underestimate Peter a lot, right?’

‘We can’t do that again, Sirius! We can’t let him escape our fingers, not when…’

‘I know, Prongs, I know. I’ve set a task force with Shacklebolt and Fudge is talking about even involving the Muggle Prime Minister this time… We’ll surround him and capture him. It’s just a matter of time’.

‘You said he was seen on Ottery St. Catchpole? That’s where the Weasleys live, we must -’

Sirius sighs heavier now, and there is a dark cloud on his face, one that looks a lot like that time when Sirius had pranked Snape into going to the Shrieking Shack. Guilt.

‘He is not there anymore, we’ve checked the city over and over - even the sewers, yes, but he is not in the region anymore’.

‘But we must tell Arthur, Ron can be in danger -’

‘Peter isn’t there, James, he… He was just probably searching for some information, Ottery St. Catchpole has one of the biggest wizarding communities and… When Bertha saw him, the Weasley weren’t even there. They were abroad’.

James remembers the prize that Arthur had won and their sunny trip to Egypt; he had been happy for them. But that…

‘That was two weeks ago!’, James cries, and Sirius flinches, but he nods. ‘You are telling me you withhold that for two weeks? What the hell is your problem, Sirius?’

Sirius crosses his arms.

‘That was classified, that’s the problem. We thought if we could trace him quietly, it would be better’.

‘Better for who? In case you forgot, your godson is a target for him!’

‘Harry was never in danger, James’, Sirius says quietly. ‘Peter was seen far from here and, well, if he’s been alive for the last twelve years, then he never once went after Harry’.

‘He is rat - he could be here or at Hogwarts and we wouldn’t -’

‘He is not here now, there is your love protection, remember?’, points Sirius, his voice much more soothing than James has ever seen him sound. He supposes years as Auror have made Sirius much better qualified to deal with stress. ‘And as for Hogwarts, once again, Harry was never in danger as far as we know. No unknown rat or crazy old man has come near him’.

‘But I can’t - Harry can’t return there, not -’

‘You are overreacting, James, and you know it. Harry will be under Dumbledore’s protection all the time at Hogwarts and there is something else’. He pauses, and then there is a tender smile on his lips. ‘Moony will be there too. Dumbledore asked him to teach Defense this year’.

‘Oh’, that brings a smile to James’ face as well. He knows how much Remus has been studying and how much he loves to share his knowledge with others. ‘ Finally. Remus must be so happy’.

‘He is excited, yes, but if you want to know the main reason he accepted was to watch out for Harry too’.

‘Remus knew too? So what, everyone knew?’

‘Don’t be like that - we just tried to solve things before it got too complicated. But now -’

‘Now?’

‘Someone leaked it for the Daily Prophet’, Sirius admits, breathing heavily. ‘It will be on the front page tomorrow morning. And you know what that means -’

‘Panic’.

‘He got marked as one of Voldemort’s biggest supporters. Nonsense, we know, Peter was never the brightest, he wouldn’t be any better Death Eater… he was just in the right place. But it doesn’t matter, people will panic, I will get owls daily with people reporting they’ve seen him… It will be a mess’.

‘And it will be harder to find him now he knows he’s been hunted’, James muses thoughtfully. ‘I suppose none of the free Death Eaters are happy with him either’.

Sirius gives one of his bark-like laughs.

‘The traitor who helped lead Voldemort to his downfall? I bet not. They will think the traitor betrayed them too’.

‘As if…’ James sighs. Then he glances at Sirius speculatively. He knows what Sirius will say, but he can try. ‘I can help’.

‘No’, Sirius shakes his head. ‘You are too involved in this, and you know it. It will not do any good’.

‘I can’t just stay here knowing he is out there -’

‘See, that’s why I didn’t want you to know. Breathe, James. The Aurors are taking care of it, I am taking care of it and about Harry, I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to him. Not even if I need to be at his side all the time’.

‘He will love that’, James snorts. ‘But you are right, Harry will be at Hogwarts, the least we can do is… trust anything will happen’.

‘I hope not, Fudge is talking about putting dementors around Hogwarts for protection… Like I said, a mess’.

‘What good will dementors do?’

‘None, of course, but -’, Sirius flushes, looking guilty. ‘It’s not like we can just tell them about Peter, right? It would lead to too many questions, and Remus -’

‘I know’, James agrees, sighing. ‘We will just have to be careful. Harry will need to be more careful if a mass murderer is after him, he can’t be out after hours or going in his trips outside the castle - or, damn it, there are Hogsmeade trips this year - ‘

‘Don’t forbid him of going’, says Sirius, frowning. ‘Or you will just make him find a way of going without you knowing’.

‘He wouldn’t if -’

‘If you tell him what’s going on?’, Sirius challenges. ‘Are you going to tell him the whole story?’

James doesn’t say anything, but Sirius already knows the answer.

‘That boy may have Lily’s sense of responsibility, but he is also your son and I know you will be disappointed if he never finds out one of the secret passages out of the castle - do you really want to test him?’

James chuckles against his will.

‘Fine, he can keep Hogsmeade trips, as long as it’s safe. I just can’t help but think… who knows how Peter Pettigrew’s mind is after all this time? What if he thinks that getting Harry will bring Voldemort back?’

‘He was never the most brilliant, James’, Sirius repeats derisively.

‘Still, twelve years of brooding Voldemort’s fall… he bet all on Voldemort, didn’t he?’

‘He bet wrong’, Sirius says, his voice resolute. ‘Now, can we let this go for now? It’ll be in tomorrow’s paper and I just want a moment to celebrate my favourite godson’s birthday’.

‘He is your only godson’, James notes, more at ease with Sirius’ joke.

‘Only because you and Lily stopped too early’.

‘Remus would be the next godfather’.

‘You wouldn’t dare!’.

James laughs, without answering.

They go back to the party, and once in a while, James thinks Harry is looking at him, but whenever he looks back, Harry is already doing something - talking animatedly to Ron or even coaching a blushing Ginny to play Exploding Snap.

There is no talking of Peter Pettigrew for the night, until later when they are in their bedroom, and James tells Lily the news that Sirius brought.

Lily turns to him then, her green eyes full of worry.

‘We should tell Harry’.

‘There is nothing to tell him’, whispers James. ‘We don’t know if Wormtail will go after him’.

‘What does your heart tell you?’

James closes his eyes, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

‘I think it’s not a coincidence he has been sighted after all these years’.

‘That’s what I thought too. I can talk to Harry if you want’.

‘No, I will - it’s my… my burden. Just give me some time, ok?’

Lily sighs and nods. James can feel her watching him, but he doesn’t open his eyes.

‘And how do you feel about that?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘About Peter being alive. You never dealt with it, James, not really’.

‘He was a traitor’, James mumbles, his voice full of repulse. ‘There was nothing to deal with. He betrayed us then he died. Or so we thought, but I didn’t care he was dead’.

‘Didn’t you?’, she asks softly, and James doesn’t answer her.

It seems there are a lot of things he doesn’t want to say, so after a minute, Lily turns off the lights. She hugs him in the dark, her hand caressing his, and James pretends he doesn’t care at all that Peter is alive.

Lily pretends she doesn’t know he cares, so it works for everyone.

The next morning, when they are in the kitchen for breakfast, Harry jumps from his chair as soon as the morning owl comes with the Daily Prophet.

‘Thanks’, he says to the owl, watching it fly away. Then he opens the newspaper. ‘Wow. Who is Peter Pettigrew?’

James grabs the Prophet. There is a big photo of Wormtail, blinking at him. Peter Pettigrew is alive and on the loose, the headline says.

He looks at the face he hasn’t seen in the past twelve years, having even stored all photos in which he was together with them. James had worked really hard to delete from his existence the fact that he was once friends with Wormtail, and still Peter managed to crawl back in his life.

‘Friends don’t leave’, he remembers saying to Peter a long time ago, and James can’t help but find the irony there.

It’s an old photo, of when Peter was twenty, young and looking so fragile. He wonders how Wormtail is now. Sirius described him as older and balder, and that thought fills him with anger. He remembers the old Order, how many of them were killed, and James asks himself - as he always does when his thoughts steer in that direction - how many died because he was once friends with Peter Pettigrew.

‘Dad?’, Harry asks again, and James sees Harry is watching him carefully.

‘He was a Death Eater’, Lily answers for him, taking the newspaper from his hand and replacing it with a cup of tea. ‘One of Voldemort’s followers. He got famous for - ’, Lily looks briefly at James. ‘ - for murdering twelve people with a single curse’.

‘Twelve people?’, Harry repeats, astonished. ‘With one curse?’

‘Yeah, and for all these years we thought he had killed himself also. But now -’

Lily shrugs at the newspaper, folding it so Peter’s face is hidden. Harry grabs the Prophet, his eyes scanning fast the news.

‘Sirius is after him?’, he asks, and James wakes up.

‘They are sending the best Aurors’, he says in the lighter voice he can manage.

‘I am sure your godfather will catch him in a blink’, adds Lily, in the same tone as James.

Sirius hasn’t caught Peter in the two weeks of advantage he had, James thinks darkly, but he doesn’t say anything. With luck, Peter has left the country by now. He was never the bravest; he wouldn’t face a manhunt for him.

Harry is nodding, looking strangely excited at the thought of his godfather going after a famous murderer, and Lily looks at James as if expecting him to tell now and then that Pettigrew may be after Harry.

It’s still early August, James thinks. There is still time.

August passes by in a blink, and Lily is throwing looks at him that are more and more worried than before, but still, James can’t force himself to say anything to Harry.

Then Sirius comes to the news that Fudge has not resisted public pressure and he decided to place dementors around Hogwarts for “protection”.

‘Everyone agrees that he is after Harry’, Sirius explains in a quiet voice. He looks more tired than James has ever seen him, and he guesses easily that Sirius must be double-shifting in his search for Pettigrew.

Sirius is the only one that is almost as upset as James by Peter’s betrayal. James thinks it’s not fair; he never blamed Sirius for suggesting the exchange of Secret Keeper - it was a good plan.

James only blames himself for not seeing how excited Peter had been at the idea, how he trusted the most precious things in his life for someone he thought he was a friend.

The mistake is on James, not on Sirius.

‘It’s silly, we have no evidence that it’s more likely he may go to Hogwarts than anywhere else, and Dumbledore was furious’, Sirius is saying, dismayed. ‘But Fudge is sure that he is after Harry, and you know Fudge -’

‘He likes to show that he is doing something, yes’, James completes. He doesn’t have much contact with the Minister of Magic, but Sirius doesn’t seem impressed by him and James trusts Sirius’ opinion. ‘So what now?’

‘Now we hope the dementors at least catch Peter if he is dumb enough to bump into them. But it will be miserable at Hogwarts this year, that I give you. I hate dementors’.

‘Me too’.

‘Every time I have to go to Azkaban... God, I hate that place. I don’t think even filthy like my dear cousin Bellatrix deserves it’.

‘Peter might’, James says quietly. ‘Or not, he won’t feel anything probably -’

‘James…’

‘What? We always protected him so it was not like he could have bad memories of school or of the war. And then what, do you think he regrets telling Voldemort? You think it’s a bad memory for him? It was probably the happiest moment of his life, delivering the Potters…’

‘James’, Sirius calls him again, louder so James can’t ignore him this time. ‘I don’t care if it will affect Peter or not, and neither should you. It’s not our problem anymore’.

‘It will always be my problem’.

‘It’s only his problem. See, thoughts like that… Lily is worried about you’.

James rolls his eyes.

‘You two have been talking behind my back?’

‘Yes’, Sirius admits shamelessly. ‘It’s what we do when you don’t talk to any of us’.

‘I am talking with you right now’.

Sirius raises his eyebrows.

‘We can talk about the map of Hogwarts you have been studying in the library’.

James flushes.

‘It’s nothing. Just a silly hobby’.

‘It’s silly’, Sirius agrees. ‘Studying Hogwarts’ pipelines? There was a bloody basilisk in them, and you think you might find Peter like that?’

James doesn’t answer.

‘You will get crazy if you try to catch him like that, James, trust me. It’s like catching smoke with your hand. Now, if you want to do something useful… Have you talked to Harry?’

‘If you’ve been talking with Lily, you know I haven’t yet’.

Sirius just looks at him, expecting, and James sighs. ‘I will talk to him tonight’, he concedes.

Still, James delays the moment as much as he can, until, right after Harry turns in for the night, he sees Sirius and Lily looking at him, both with identical reproval looks on their faces.

‘I hate when you join forces against me’, he mumbles, but he goes.

As much as James doesn’t want to talk to Harry about it, he knows it’s for the better.

He knocks on Harry’s door, opening to find Harry already with his pyjamas, lying lazily on his bed.

‘Dad?’, Harry asks, surprised. Then he smirks. ‘Coming to tuck me in? I am a little bit older for that’.

James laughs easily, sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed and arraying the blanket over Harry, making his son roll his eyes.

‘You are never too old’.

‘This is silly’, Harry disagrees, moving so he messes all the work James had done with his blanket. ‘What is it?’

‘Maybe I just want to wish you a good night’.

‘You already said it downstairs’.

‘Or maybe I came to see if you want a bedtime story’.

‘I’m thirteen’, Harry notes, exasperated.

‘Even for a Marauder’s tale?’, James asks in a soft voice. Harry blinks, and James can see the interest in there.

‘I could listen to one’, Harry says in a nonchalant voice. ‘Just because you love them so much’.

‘Put on my account, yeah’, James almost smiles. Then he looks at his own hands. ‘Did I ever tell you about the Marauder’s Map?’

‘I think Sirius mentioned a map once’.

‘We lost this map so many years ago that we tend to forget… Well, it was the other half of our secret to perfect pranks. The first one you know’.

‘The Cloak’, Harry guesses.

‘Yeah… you see, this map was just as amazing, and maybe even a little more, because we created it from scratch. It was a map of Hogwarts, showing every corridor, every room, but the most amazing thing - it showed where everyone was. There were small dots with everyone’s names, in real-time’.

‘Wow!’, Harry looks impressed. ‘How did you do it?’

‘A combination of good spells, our talents, plenty of time to spare, my Invisibility Cloak so we could walk around… It was supposed to be our legacy’.

‘And how come I don’t have this map?’, asks Harry, sounding outraged. James chuckles lightly.

‘Because we lost in our Seventh Year. Filch got it - I don’t think he understood what it was, but he was smart enough to see it was important. Well, by then we were leaving Hogwarts and we had more pressing things to care about anyway’.

Harry shakes his head in fake devastation.

‘You should have thought about your future son’.

‘I was eighteen, Harry, you can be sure I didn’t think about kids’, James says playfully. ‘Well, we enjoyed the Marauder’s Map while we could. It saved us a lot of times of being caught, especially when we got separated…’

‘What do you think happened to it?’

‘It’s probably gathering dust in Filch’s office. If you happen to find an old harmless parchment lying around, that’s it… and you will see it’s signed with our names. Well, nicknames. Moony, Padfoot, Prongs and…’

‘Wormtail’, Harry finishes for him, in a low voice.

James sighs, looking back at Harry.

‘You remember’, he says, and Harry just nods. There doesn’t seem to be any special acknowledgement in his eyes, so James just adds, in the most casual voice he can manage. ‘Well, we four did it. It was the greatest Map ever. There were all these secret passages in and outside school too’.

‘The ones you don’t want to tell me about’, Harry notes, just a touch of complaint in his voice.

‘I told you to explore and I gave you my Cloak, didn’t I?’. He smiles. ‘You got to deserve knowing the passages, kiddo’.

‘I’ve explored Hogwarts’, Harry says, with a note of pride in his voice that James knows is for his father more than for himself.

‘The Marauders never found the Chamber of Secrets, I will give you that’, James agrees.

Harry smiles bashfully. James shakes his head at the adventures his son had, then he sighs.

‘But this year I will have to ask you to suspend your explorations, Harry’.

Harry just blinks.

‘There is something I’ve got to tell you, and I’m sorry to have postponed so much, I just didn’t want you to worry during summer -’

‘Dad’, Harry cuts him off, looking guilty. ‘It’s fine. I know’.

‘You know? How could you?’

‘I heard you and Sirius talking on my birthday’, he admits. ‘I know I shouldn’t, but I heard my name and… I know Peter Pettigrew is after me’.

Now it’s James’ turn to blink.

‘What else did you hear?’

‘Only that “a mass murderer” is after me’, Harry repeats, a little unfazed, as if it’s no big deal that he is the target of a mass murderer. In his case, James thinks, it’s not the first time. ‘Is there more?’

Once upon a time James looked at Peter’s face, at his friend’s face, and asked him if he could do him the greatest favour of being their secret keeper.

‘It will be dangerous, I know’, James had said, not wanting to lie to Peter. ‘And I know it’s too much, Peter, but I wouldn’t ask if -’

‘James’, Peter had said, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking much more valiant than James had ever seen him. ‘I would do anything for you, you know that. You can trust me’.

James had trusted him and seven days later Voldemort had walked effortlessly into his house.

‘No, that’s it’, James whispers, knowing perfectly well what he is lying about. ‘We are just worried because he was a huge supporter of Voldemort and… well, he lost everything right after Voldemort lost to you, so -’

‘Let me guess, another crazy person who thinks I somehow can bring Voldemort back to power’.

‘We think so’, James agrees. ‘There will be extra protection in Hogwarts this year, so I ask you to just be equally extra careful, ok? Just be a good boy for once and stay inside the castle, or with people around you -’

‘I’m not scared’, Harry says.

‘I know you are not. But I want you to promise… don't go looking for Pettigrew'.

Harry opens his eyes, startled.

'Why would I go out looking for someone who wants to kill me?', he asks, and James just looks back at him, without answering. After a few seconds, Harry grins. 'Ok, I get it, I have a bad record'.

James lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

'You are notorious for acting first, think later. Hum, I wonder where that impulsive trace came from'.

Harry laughs.

'Mum, probably', he teases. Then his face softens. 'You don't need to worry, Dad. I am sure Sirius will catch him easily'.

'I trust Padfoot too'. There is a moment of silence. 'You still haven't promised'.

'Oh, you are right. I promise to behave this year'.

'Not too much, you can pull off a prank or two', James says, grinning, and Harry winks at him. 'Well, I think I will let you rest now. See if we can be on time this year in King's Cross'.

Harry flushes. They are always late because of him.

'Good night, Harry'.

'Night… hey, dad?'

'Yeah?'

'If you are a stag and Sirius is a dog, that friend of yours, Wormtail, was he an animagus too?'

James' throat is suddenly dry and he stops at the door to turn to Harry.

'Yeah, he was a rat', he whispers. 'Let me know if you see any strange rat around you, ok?'

'Isn't he… I mean, I thought he was dead'.

Harry says the last word in a low voice as if he feels guilty of remembering his father that his friend is dead.

Harry's eyes look so full of concern for him, so much like Lily's eyes, that he can hear her voice in his head, telling him to tell Harry the truth about Pettigrew and Wormtail, to explain to him what happened.

What James did.

How he didn't realize one of his best friends was a spy who sold James' family in exchange for power.

How he dared doubt Remus, while the real traitor was being cherished as a brave hero for keeping the most important secret.

How James would have died for Peter.

He can't face Harry. He can't tell him that truth.

'My friend is gone, James says at least. 'But you never know. Watch out for unknown rats, ok?'

Harry nods and James closes the door silently.

__________________

It’s not the first time the school year ends with James visiting the hospital wing in search of his son, but this is the first time he meets Sirius there.

‘Prongs -’, Sirius starts, looking guilty and trying to rise from the bed he was laying on, but James just shakes his head. Sirius’ head is all bandaged, and, from what Dumbledore told him, it was a nasty blow, along with many other cuts in his body.

Later, James will tease Sirius for being an old man that can’t even deal with a werewolf anymore, but now James is not in the mood.

‘Just rest, Padfoot’, he says dismissively. ‘Are you ok?’

‘I am, but - he was here and -’

‘I know what happened. Dumbledore told me’. James presses his lips for a moment. ‘Where is Harry?’

Sirius winces at the tone of James’ voice.

‘He was released early this morning, but James… Come on, it’s not his fault’.

‘Which part? Going after Wormtail or almost being kissed by a dementor?’

‘Everything’, Sirius says softly. ‘He saved more than one life yesterday, you know. You should be proud of him’.

‘I will be prouder when he ends a year without me needing to pay him a visit in the hospital wing. Now, do you know where he is?’

Sirius sighs.

‘Try the lake. I think he will be there with his thoughts after last night.

James wonders what is in the lake that would particularly attract Harry, but he just nods, leaving the infirmary.

The truth is he is mad. He woke up to a letter of Dumbledore, calling for him and Lily at their earliest convenience. James had recognized the tone of Dumbledore’s letter - it spoke of Harry getting into some adventure that he should not have.

Except he would not classify everything that had happened the night before as one of Harry’s adventures. It was much more a suicidal attempt because he could not fathom any good reason for his son to go after Peter Pettigrew - after promising he wouldn’t -, drawing Sirius’ attention, then Remus and, for some baffling reason, Snape.

And then, as if that was not enough, even though Harry had managed, with his friends and Sirius and Remus, to catch Peter, he had slipped out of their fingers and everyone was almost kissed by one hundred dementors.

‘How?’, Lily had asked, her face pale and troubled, grasping James’ hand with such force that it was stopping his blood circulation. ‘How did they escape the dementors?’

‘They had time’, Dumbledore had answered enigmatically.

James had no time for deciphering enigmas. He had left to check on Sirius and to find Harry. He needed to understand why Harry had put himself in so much danger, over and over, and what had made him go chase after Peter Pettigrew when he knew the danger Peter represented.

And it had been all for nothing. Wormtail is still at loose, still a danger, still unpunished for everything he did. And he got so close to Harry, whose life he once offered freely to Voldemort, even after assuring James he would protect it with his last breath…

The sun makes James blink blindly when he leaves the castle. It’s a beautiful hot day, and he sees a line of students going in the direction of Hogsmeade - it's probably the last trip of the year there.

With a guilt jolt, he thinks of revoking Harry's permission to go to Hogsmeade after there was a sight of Wormtail there. It turned out to be an unfounded rumour, but James had not been thinking straight.

He was never really able to when it involved Wormtail.

Harry had been furious at being forbidden from going to Hogsmeade and even Lily had not supported his decision then. Considering Harry had ended up meeting Wormtail at Hogwarts grounds, even if they went to the Shrieking Shack, he supposes he was on the wrong on that one.

He finds Harry easily after a few minutes, under the shadow of a tree with Ron and Hermione. They both raise when they see James approaching, and they each place a supporting hand on Harry's shoulder.

The sight fills James' heart with sudden warmth. He loves Ron and Hermione and he loves to watch them together. That trio has nothing to do with the Marauders, really - he can point out some similarities if he must, but they are altogether a different group.

And still James sees that, with Ron and Hermione, Harry has the kind of friendship that James himself found with Sirius and Remus. That friendship that will last a lifetime, through troubles and doubts.

His anger lessens a little.

Ron and Hermione whisper something to Harry and he sees his son nodding. They leave Harry, passing James with just a greeting with their heads. For some reason, Ron flushes when James waves back, looking strangely guilty.

'He thinks it's his fault', Harry explains, and James sees he was watching him from his place at the ground. Harry doesn’t raise. 'For not noticing what Scabbers was - well, that he wasn't a normal rat'.

'Nobody blames him', James whispers, sitting right next to Harry, who turns to the lake once more, seeming fixed on the sun shining in the water. 'Now - care to tell me what happened?'

'You are angry', Harry notes, with a sigh.

'Of course I am angry. I told you not to go after Pettigrew and what did you do?'

'I promised I wouldn't go after Pettigrew, but last night it wasn't him I was after. I was chasing Wormtail'.

James feels the jab, even though Harry doesn’t sound particularly accusing.

'Harry -'

'And he had Ron', Harry adds simply. 'He knew I would go after Ron - he told me you would have done the same for him'.

James breathes heavily.

'I would'.

'Why didn't you tell me the story, dad?', Harry asks, sounding hurt, and he turns to James. 'Why did you never tell me that Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail - and everything he did?'

James presses his lips for a moment.

'It wasn't your burden to bear. This was on me. It wasn't you that he betrayed, Harry'.

'I don't think he sees that way', Harry sighs. 'He tried… well, let me tell you the whole story, ok?'

Harry waits until James nods to begin his tale of the last night.

He tells James how he, Ron and Hermione had broken the rules to do company to Hagrid because Buckbeak would be executed and how they had found Scabbers hiding in there. They had tried to return to the castle, but Scabbers had shrieked and bit Ron and then -

'He turned into a man', Harry whispers. 'It was nothing like that photo on wanted posters, I didn't even recognize him right away…'

Harry tells how Pettigrew dragged Ron to under the Whomping Willow, how Hermione's cat had helped them find the secret tunnel and then they had ended up in the Shrieking Shack.

'He said he just wanted to talk, but he looked crazy like… he kept babbling and seeing shadows and he called me by your name more than once'.

'We do look alike', James notes dully. 'And then Sirius came?'

Harry sighs and he explains that Sirius and Remus had followed them.

'Wait, how did they know where you were?'

Harry looks guilty at that.

'Because Remus had the Marauder's Map'.

'What? He found it? He never -'

'He got from me', Harry admits, his voice dropping shame now. 'I… It came to me in December, after...' Harry stops and looks at him with deep sorrow. 'I am sorry, Dad, I really am, I should have told you sooner, but - let me go back at the beginning…'

Then Harry tells, sounding really remorseful, how he got the Marauder's Map (though he doesn’t share names, because Harry is loyal), how he was upset that James had forbidden him from going to Hogsmeade and how he had used the Map to go to Hogsmead secretly and then he had listened to the story of how the Potters had been betrayed by one of their closest friends.

And how Harry had understood how Wormtail, whose name was written on the Marauder's Map, had been responsible for almost killing them.

'That's why you were withdrawn at Christmas', James says, finally understanding why Harry had seemed upset - he'd thought it was only because of the Hogsmeade permission and because of the accident with Harry’s broom.

'I couldn't tell you what I had heard', murmurs Harry. 'And I knew you never liked to talk about it, so… well, anyway, I had the Map until April only -'

As Harry continues his story, James thinks he will have a serious conversation with Remus about friendship coming before being a professor (though Remus will say that as Harry's teacher he shouldn't also share a Marauder’s secret - it's complicated, he supposes).

Then Harry talks about how Sirius and Remus incarcerated Peter.

'He kept telling he wanted to tell his story, that he was sorry, so sorry', Harry whispers. 'And I asked them to let him, I thought… maybe there was some excuse, maybe we had understood all wrong somehow… And he tried to explain, Wormtail, he told your story… how you turn into animagi for Remus... how he was always your friend and how Voldemort had tricked him…'

James' hand acts on its own, raising to grab Harry's shoulder. Harry turns to him with a sad smile.

'I think they wanted to believe him', he whispers. 'Remus and Sirius, I mean. Pettigrew kept talking about being sorry for everything, how he never wanted to betray any of us, and - there was a moment where Sirius and Remus lowered their wands… then Snape came'.

And with evident annoyance, Harry tells how Snape had come and had belittled them for being stupid enough to fall for Pettigrew's fake weakness again and how Sirius and Snape had fought.

'Snape cast this nasty spell, he hit Sirius… then I disarmed Snape, except Ron and Hermione did too, and he fell unconscious'. Harry rolls his eyes, unconcerned. 'I saw Snape last night, he is not happy with me. Not that he ever is -'

'So you jinxed your professor', James notes, thinking he should sound stern, even if he doesn't really understand why Snape had to stick his nose on that story when it had nothing to do with him.

'Yeah', Harry blushes, at least not seeming proud of it. 'Then…'

He tells how they revived Sirius and how Sirius had actually said Snape was right. They shouldn't trust Peter again.

'Wormtail screamed like if Sirius was giving him a death sentence', Harry whispers, his voice distant. 'And it was… he begged them, and he begged me, he said… he said you would have understood. You would have forgiven him'.

James' grasp on Harry is harder, but Harry doesn't seem to notice.

'Sirius told me Peter would have watched me die, would have watched you die, without turning a hair because he valued his life more than any of ours. He accused Wormtail of selling information for Voldemort for at least one year before his downfall…'

'We always knew there was a spy', James says, forcing himself to release his hand on Harry's shoulder so he doesn’t hurt him without meaning to. 'But I could never believe it was one of them… any of them'.

'He admitted', Harry says, with a grimace, as if he wished he was saying something different to his father. 'He confessed he was the spy and that he had been almost ever since leaving school… and he asked what he should have done, with Voldemort gathering so much power'.

'He should have died', James whispers. 'Died rather than betraying his friends, because -'

' - that's what you would have done for him', Harry finishes for James, with a sigh. 'That's what Sirius said. Then Remus told him that he should have known… if Voldemort didn't kill him, they would. They raised their wands… and that's where I stopped them. I placed myself in front of their wands, in front of Wormtail’.

'You?', asks James, surprised. He'd thought sense had come to Sirius and Remus.

'I told them you wouldn't like them to become murderers because of him. I - I thought how you once saved Snape from Sirius' prank because you didn't want any of them to feel guilty of killing someone and how… even if you never liked Snape, there are some lines you don’t cross'. Harry pauses, looking more troubled than any fourteen-year-old should feel. 'Was I wrong?'

There is a desperate need for validation on Harry’s face, but James looks beyond his son, over the lake, and if he closes his eyes he can hear the sound of four teenagers sharing a carefree laugh at the edge of the lake.

There are many questions he would like an answer to, but the one he always comes back to is “why?”. Somehow, he doubts even Wormtail really knows why he did everything and why he betrayed his friends.

And if Wormtail was right in front of him - older and weaker and alone -, James likes to think he would have felt the same pity that Harry felt. In the end, Wormtail did not win in what mattered the most. Harry is alive.

And Prongs, Padfoot and Moony are still together.

'No, you did right', he whispers. 'I never thought if I wanted him dead or not - there was so much happening right after Voldemort fell, that the first time I thought about him was when Sirius came to tell us he was dead. I guess I was just so used to him being dead that I never wondered if... If I got the chance, if I had him at my mercy… I don't know. I like to think I would have done the same'.

He hears Harry breathing again at his side.

'I thought about the dementors and that if someone deserved Azkaban, it would be him', Harry explains. 'But then all hell broke loose’.

Then Harry finishes the story as James had heard already from Dumbledore, telling about how Remus forgot to drink his Wolfsbane Potion and how Pettigrew had escaped, but the dementors had been drawn to his presence anyway.

‘It was chaos’, Harry says in a low voice. ‘Sirius had drifted away to control Remus and it had worked because the werewolf ran to the forest, but Sirius was hurt -’

‘It was always a two-man job’, James notes. ‘Or two animals. With only one of us it was too difficult, and the werewolf was not used to being controlled after years of Wolfsbane Potion’.

Harry sighs.

‘And then the dementors came. I don’t think they cared who they were kissing, and I tried to cast the Patronus just as Uncle Moony taught me. But… I couldn’t’.

James feels goosebumps over his body, imagining the despair Harry must have felt then, with a hundred dementors upon him and Sirius - but he has no idea how they escaped.

‘And what happened? Snape -’

‘No, he was still knocked out… I was almost losing consciousness too, but then I saw…’ Harry smiles now, looking at James with nothing but love in his eyes. ‘ You. Prongs saved us’.

James blinks, confused. ‘I wasn’t there - what do you mean?’

Harry lifts his wand and points to the lake.

‘Expecto Patronum!’, he cries, and from the point of his wand, somehow brighter than the sun reflecting in the lake, comes out a beautiful stag, who runs to the lake before vanishing in a wisp of air.

A warm feeling spreads through James’ body and he stares at the place the Patronus vanished, somehow as lost for words as he felt the first time he ever saw Harry, just after he was born. He remembers looking at that tiny fragile baby, all wrapped in a blanket and crying out loud, knowing no words could explain what he was feeling then. They, he and Lily, had made that precious thing.

‘He is perfect’, was the first thing he said after several minutes, when Harry was quieter and Lily had helped him hold his son for the first time. James’ arms were trembling, but he managed to hold Harry, until his son slept in his arms.

James loves Harry ever since he knew of his existence, but there are moments where that love threatens to overwhelm and scare him a little too. He understands his love for his parents, for his friends and for Lily. But that paternal love for Harry - a mix of his desire that Harry gets to be free to live fully, but also a need of protecting him against all evil, so nothing can ever hurt him - he feels he will never be able to truly understand.

And now, seeing that Harry’s Patronus is his stag, it’s James, really, he feels that his desire of protecting Harry is being achieved. He will always be with Harry.

Harry begins talking again, explaining about Time-Turners and James refuses to think of the time paradox there, instead focusing on the satisfied smile that comes out on Harry’s face as he speaks of saving Buckbeak, and then how he accepted he couldn’t try to change time to catch Wormtail.

‘I couldn’t risk’, he says, distressed. ‘Hermione was right, if anyone saw us, if I changed anything - Sirius could be kissed’.

And so could Harry, but James knows Harry always thinks of others first. His son is too selfless sometimes, but as much as this worries James, it also fills him with a burning pride.

‘When the time came, I kept thinking you would appear, until - until I finally understood. I had seen myself - but also you too. And I thought about how you were always there for me, how much I wanted - I wanted to be like you’. Harry flushes and ignores the way James’ eyes are sparkling now. ‘Then Prongs came to life. I guess - all four Marauders were here last night’.

James hears once more the ghost of the laughs and he thinks how many times they had sat together around the lake, in September or in late spring, studying and joking and planning one of their pranks. Life at Hogwarts had been easier.

Except sometimes he wonders if Wormtail’s rupture began even at Hogwarts, when he felt left out or lesser than his friends, when he wasn’t as admired as James or as cherished as Sirius or as lovable as Remus. But this question is much like time paradoxes: James will get mad trying to understand it.

‘We never left’, James says at least. ‘The Marauders were made to stay at Hogwarts’.

Harry smiles softly.

‘Moony gave me the Marauder’s Map back. He says he doesn’t feel guilty now he is not my teacher any more’.

James sighs. He hasn’t seen Remus yet - he had left Hogwarts as soon as he could -, but Dumbledore had told him about his resignation after his secret had slipped out. This thought causes a wave of fury in him - it took Snape almost twenty years, but he finally managed to tell Remus’ secret, that git.

‘Can I keep it?’, Harry asks, and James can see the greed in his eyes, how much he wants to save the Map for himself.

The responsible part of him - the one that made him Head Boy and that drove him to hide instead of fight when Harry was being hunted by Voldemort - wants to get the Map back. But the other part - the one who helped create that Map, who is always thrilled for adventures and adrenaline - tells him it wouldn’t be fair. He’d want Harry to know Hogwarts’ secrets.

And Harry would get himself into trouble anyway.

‘It’s your legacy’, he says, making Harry beam. Lily will shake her head at the idea of Harry getting involved in even more confusion, but James will cover that for him.

At least this one. There are other aspects he can’t ignore.

‘Do you believe in prophecies?’, Harry asks suddenly, turning to him with a serious face, and James forces himself not to grimace.

‘Some people do’, he says vaguely, thinking back of that night Dumbledore had summoned him and Lily, as well as Frank and Alice, to tell them grave news. ‘I like to think we make our own destiny’.

Harry looks at him with a resolute expression, taking in James’ answer. As Lily says with half-amusement and half-exasperation, Harry always heeds his father’s words better than anyone else’s.

‘Good. Me too’. Harry sighs. ‘Dumbledore told me that someday I might be glad that I saved Wormtail’s life. That he is in debt with me, just as Snape is with you’.

James gives Harry a knowing look.

‘Let me guess, you want that debt as much as I want old Snape’s debt’.

‘I don’t want any connection with him’, agrees Harry. ‘He betrayed you. You - you could have died’.

‘I could. And even if I had, it would not change much, I hope’. He puts an arm around Harry’s shoulder, and Harry accepts his embrace. ‘Even if I were dead, I would always love and be with you’.

‘I am glad you are here’, Harry whispers, his voice breaking at the thought of his father dead, and he turns his face away from James.

James allows his son one moment of privacy, before grinning.

‘Let’s hope you still think so after this summer’, he says brightly. ‘As much as proud of you as I am, you did ignore me and went to Hogsmeade hidden, and you went after Wormtail - you are so grounded this summer’.

Harry groans.

‘Oh, yes. We will talk about your chores - and no complaints or I will even revoke us going to the Quidditch World Cup’.

Harry throws a scandalized look at James.

‘You wouldn’t!’

‘Well, you are right, I wouldn’t. No messing with Quidditch. But if you want to go to Hogsmeade next year, then I expect a lot of work - I’m thinking of the garden and cleaning the attic at least’.

‘You are the worst’, Harry moans, but James knows his son doesn’t really think so, and Harry knows he knows.

It works for both of them.

___________________

Harry is fourteen when Wormtail ties him to a gravestone, cuts him, takes his blood and helps to resurrect Voldemort.

That drives James very close to the edge.

Everything is stressful that summer. Harry is shut and brooding and so full of everything that for the first time in his life he actually screams madly at James and Lily, demanding to have answers even if he doesn’t even know what his questions are. Lily is worried about everything, her nerves worn thin, and the fact that they now have to live on Grimmauld Place until Harry returns to school doesn’t help her. Even Sirius, who James can always count on to be on the same page as him, is dark and sulking because he is away from work and locked inside his parent’s house most of the time.

James deals with all of them because he is good at helping other people and solving their problems. He lets Harry scream at him and he hugs him when Harry’s tired of screaming. He hears Lily’s worries and he helps her see everything will be alright. He takes Sirius off Grimmauld Place as much as he can, and if not, he tries to give him happier memories of that bloody house.

It’s his own problems that James can’t handle very well.

Lily sees through him but James doesn’t think she can understand this one. Peter was her friend, but not like he once was James, so Lily doesn’t feel particularly betrayed by the fact that it was Peter that bleed Harry and left him to die - again - despite the fact that Harry once saved his life.

That summer, finding Peter becomes an obsession for James. He can’t help but think that if he had tried to find him last year, maybe things could have been different. Every time James sees the faint scar on Harry’s arm, fury washes over him.

He searches through Sirius’ notes, talks with Kingsley and even tries to ask Snape if he knows something. Snape looks at him with disdain - nothing new there -, but for some reason, James believes when Snape tells him that whatever he’s been hiding, Wormtail is safe for now.

‘The Dark Lord despises him’, Snape explains coolly. ‘He knows your friend is a vermin. But he was useful, so your friend is being protected’.

Snape always likes to remember James that Peter was once James’ friend, probably enjoying how this hurts James, even though James never takes his bait. He learned a long time ago that ignoring Snape annoys him much more than answering back and, in any case, he has bigger problems than worrying about a school feud that he really thinks Snape should be over by now.

‘Let me know if you learn anything useful’, it’s all James says, and he ignores how Snape seems affronted at this.

‘He could be dead if your son hadn’t been so noble’, Snape whispers softly, and he leaves before James can say anything.

It doesn’t matter. Even if James sometimes agrees with him, he wouldn’t say anything. Most of the time he still believes Harry did the right thing. He doesn’t want a murder in Sirius or Remus’ consciousness.

On his own, James thinks he could deal with.

But despite his best efforts, he never gets any closer to finding Wormtail. A rat always knows how to hide.

Still, his obsession almost cost him Lily and Harry, and James promises to himself that one day he will find Wormtail, but never at the cost of what Peter almost took away from him once.

_________________

Harry is seventeen when he tells James that Peter is dead.

It’s in April. They know they shouldn’t, but James and Lily keep visiting Shell Cottage to assist Harry as much as they can before he leaves again, even though Harry isn’t asking for any assistance.

He looks more reserved than ever, vanishing for hours with Ron, Hermione and the goblin Griphook of all beings, and James has planned enough pranks in his life to know they are plotting something about that mysterious mission that Dumbledore left for them.

The one that Harry absolutely refused to tell his parents about.

James sees the impact of that mission on Harry. His son looks much older than his age, much graver and sorrowful than James would like. They all look like they've been through hell - they have cuts and they are thin and they look scared, but that trio refuses to speak of where they’ve been and what they’ve done.

‘Not yet’, Harry says, when James asks him. ‘When this is over, we will talk’.

James wonders when it will all be over, but he knows Harry wouldn’t answer that either. At some point, Harry grabbed the world, put it on his shoulder, and decided to walk carrying it on. He wishes that Harry would not give himself so much responsibility - or that he would share the weight at least.

On the last day of April, James is in the living room of Shell Cottage when he sees Harry, Ron and Hermione descending the stairs from another of their talks with Griphook. They all look more serious; while Hermione goes to check her things, Ron drifts off in search of his brother and Harry stops in front of James and Lily.

He looks first at his mother, and James sees they are in one of their moments of silent communication, that sharp understanding between them that James could never grasp really.

Lily sees more things in Harry's face than James ever could, and whatever she sees, it doesn't make her happy. James is about to question what this is about when Harry turns to him.

'Can we talk alone?'

Harry's face is grave, so James only nods. He raises, following Harry as he leaves the cottage, passing Dobby's grave and walking until they stand at the edge of a cliff overseeing the sea. He saw Harry in that spot before, looking all contemplative, but Harry never shared his thoughts with him.

It hurts a little to see his son so distant, as if Harry doesn't trust his father anymore, as much as it makes him satisfied that Harry is an adult now, able to make his own decisions.

He only wishes Harry got to be a kid before growing up.

Harry turns to him and now James can recognize the expression on his face. It's the same he had over the summer before he vanished at the wedding.

The face of someone who is leaving and doesn't know when - or if - will be back.

'We are leaving tomorrow', Harry announces and though James already expected to hear it, this sentence still fills him with despair and fear.

He can't ask where Harry will go and he can't ask when he is going to return. And he can't ask Harry to don't go. They had fought over this all summer (at least James had because Harry had just looked at him as if he had lived a thousand of lives and he had listened and looked sorrowful, but Harry had refused to say anything about his mission or to give up his idea of going).

His brave marvellous son is too stubborn sometimes.

So James ignores all his deep urge to grab Harry and run, choosing to respect his son, and asks:

'Will you be safe?'

'I think so', Harry answers and James loves and hates that he is being honest instead of promising something he can't control. 'We've planned this over and over'.

'Like you planned that break in the Ministry?'

Harry flushes at this, but he doesn't say anything. That adventure of his was in the newspaper, for Merlin's sake, and still, he refuses to say a word about why they did it or what they accomplished.

'Better, I hope', James says for him. 'Just tell me I won't hear about it in the newspaper again'.

Harry almost smiles at this; it's just a shadow, but it's a Marauder's smile, and it fills James' heart to the brim to know that Harry is still capable of it after everything he has been through.

Then Harry sighs and looks at the sea again.

'There is something I need to tell you before I leave'.

Just in case I don't return, Harry doesn't say but James hears it anyway.

'Pettigrew is dead'.

This is not what James expected to hear. He blinks, astonished, and hears as Harry explains mildly what happened at Malfoy Manor.

'His silver hand killed him?', James repeats in a low voice. 'The one Vol - You-Know-Who gave him?'

'Yeah. I think he always knew…'

'Of his debt?'

Harry shrugs.

'I don't think he minded that. It's the kind of thing he wouldn't believe in, like love and fairy tales or life debts'.

Harry speaks with a gloomy perspective of Voldemort's feeling that makes James shivers.

'I think he knew that some part of Wormtail regretted it. A tiny part, but it was enough'. Harry sighs heavily. 'We were struggling and I told him he owed me his life and… that you would be ashamed of him'.

James grabs Harry's arm, but Harry still looks far away.

'He didn't release me exactly, but for a moment, a fraction of a second, he hesitated. And then the hand turned against him. There was nothing we could do'.

'Of course not', James agrees absently, just following his instinct of comforting Harry. Then he registers what Harry said. 'You tried to save him'.

Harry doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. James knows his son and, God bless him, his heart is always in the right place.

‘Why did you never talk to me about Wormtail?’, Harry asks, and James thinks that’s a question that has been bothering his son for many years now. ‘You told me once about Pettigrew, and you told me about Wormtail, but we never really talk about what he did’.

In the end, it did not matter because Harry had discovered in any case, but James feels suddenly ashamed.

‘I was embarrassed’, he says in a low voice. ‘Too ashamed to confess that everything that happened with us - your scar, the prophecy coming true - was because I put my faith in the wrong person, that I was too blind to believe my friend -’

‘It was not your fault, dad. You know, Remus once told me I was like you, too quick to consider dishonour to believe that a friend would betray me, and… he was right, but I’m proud of being like that. It’s better than living with fear. And if people don’t correspond to what we believe of them - that’s their loss. Not ours’.

Harry is looking at him with so much serenity that for an instant James feels more like the son than the father. In fact, now he sees, he realizes they are the same size now; there are differences of age and, of course, in the eyes, but they could be twins if seen from afar.

He wonders when Harry grew up so much and how much he really influenced his son. He hopes it was a lot, because he is really happy and proud of the man Harry is becoming.

James approaches him quietly, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder and for a moment they both stay looking at the ocean, watching the waves crash below them.

'Are you glad?', Harry asks in a whisper. 'That Peter died?'

James thinks of when catching Peter was a desperate need as if that somehow would solve all the problems that Peter had caused.

He remembers that fury he felt when Sirius told him Peter was still alive.

He remembers that trembling first-year boy in their dormitory, who wanted to be their friend, who looked up to James.

And he feels a longing for a time that was good, but he can't go back and he can't change what happened. Peter made his own choices, just as everyone else did.

And he had made the last choice of feeling guilty for a split-second and had died because of it.

But the fact is that Harry is here, alive. That's all he ever asked of Peter.

'I’m not glad', James whispers at least. 'But I’m also not sad. My friend was gone a long time ago'.

Harry gives him a long look and James thinks he doesn't agree totally with him, but Harry doesn't say anything. Lily would probably know what he means, and James never learned how to read Harry that well, but he doesn't mind.

Someday Harry will explain to him what he is thinking. Harry always tells him in the end.

'Be careful tomorrow', he says. 'And after that. Send us some news if you can - just to let us know…'

Let us know you're alive, James thinks, but he doesn't finish. Harry seems to understand, however. He nods and takes a deep breath, before turning to James with a hopeful smile.

‘Let’s go back for dinner?’

James almost says no. He thinks he can’t endure the feeling of sharing a meal with Harry and Lily and wondering if this will be the last meal they share; but the last time Harry went away, the feeling of not even remembering what was the last thing he’d said to Harry had been worse.

He wants a - not last, not ever the last one - dinner with Harry, and to hug him - not goodbye, but a good night - and to remember Harry that no matter what, they will see each other again. And, as Harry’s Patronus won’t let them forget, James is always with his son.

So James puts a brave smile on his face, messes with Harry’s hair in that way that makes Harry look pleasantly annoyed, and they return together to Shell Cottage.

#Jily Lives #eyes glistening #harry potter #james potter #peter pettigrew #Harry Potter and James Potter #they talk about Peter #but really it's all about James and Harry #james potter is a good friend #James Potter is a Good Parent #t: fanfiction

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