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rockingrobin69 · 3 years

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Learning Curve

Four out of five dentists would recommend against reading this piece (1.7k). Think of your teeth!

“Uncle Harry, did you know Uncle Draco is a weredragon?”

“A what now?” he frowned, tucking the duvet under Teddy’s chin.

“A weredragon. Like how dad was a werewolf, but with a dragon.”

Harry huffed a small chuckle. “I’m pretty sure he isn’t, Ted.” To be fair, considering all the things he’d learned about him since Malfoy adopted Teddy, Harry wouldn’t be too surprised if he actually turned out to be a weredragon. It won’t even be the most shocking discovery.

“No, he is. All the best people are were-something, he said. So he’s a weredragon.”

Harry resisted the temptation to ask if he was a were-something, too. “All right then, menace, go to sleep. You can tell me on Sunday if you’d seen him turn.” He shook his head through all the begging, bargaining and trickery, until Teddy finally relented and closed his eyes. Harry chewed on his grin, pressed a kiss to Teddy’s forehead, murmured in his ear and left, silently closing the door behind him.

And then heading out with his usual gracefulness – accidentally knocking into the dresser with a big yelp, stepping over every creaking floorboard, smacking against the door because he wasn’t really looking ahead, he was looking for – ah. Malfoy heard him, it would seem. Standing at the kitchen doorway, leaning against it like some sort of model in a Muggle magazine, rolling his eyes. Harry noticed he was holding his breath.

“Care to join me for a drink, Potter?”

He didn’t know why he was nervous. This happened every night.

The thing is, Harry loved Teddy so much. So, so much, he even considered adopting him himself after Andromeda and all. But Harry’s stupid job was too stupid to allow it, and Malfoy was technically ‘family’. And so Harry came by every day – well, night, stupid job and all – to see how Teddy was doing. And then, every night, he’d run into Malfoy, who had no choice but to invite him for a drink. It would be wine, sometimes, or flavored butterbeer, or – and only once – straight up Ogden’s whisky. But mostly it’d be hot chocolate, which apparently was something Malfoy enjoyed, and something Harry seemed to find quite irresistible.

Of all the new things he’d learned about Malfoy, this was perhaps one of the most surprising. He made the best hot chocolate. It was the perfect temperature, the perfect sweetness, the perfect texture. Perfection in a cup. Harry followed him into the kitchen, sat in his favorite chair (somewhat dangerously with the way Malfoy’s books were stacked so high behind his back), and turned his gaze to the fridge. Teddy’s newest masterpiece was magicked to the door, and even squinting Harry couldn’t tell what it was meant to be.

“A wolf,” Malfoy muttered as he laid a cup of hot cocoa before Harry. “Your godson is very talented, you know.”

Harry hummed into his cup, probably smearing his nose full of whipped cream. “Bet you I could draw a better one.”

He waited. Some nights Malfoy wasn’t in the mood. He’d be tired, or closed off, and they’d just sit there in silence and stare. Some nights he was restless, far too giddy to stay still, and they’d go for a walk in the forest. But tonight –

Tonight Malfoy was game. He scoffed and summoned two quills and some parchment. “Let’s see – five minutes, best drawing wins?”

Harry grinned privately to himself. There must have been something in that hot chocolate, because he couldn’t stop thinking about how he just loved spending nights at Wiltshire.

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy asked one Sunday, sliding into his wellies. “Did you know that Uncle Draco had a pet a stag?”

“What?” Harry was busy arranging a beanie on his orange hair with his tongue between his teeth. “A pet stag?”

“Yeah, when he was a kid. I asked him why he likes them so much, and he told me. His name was Arold and he was very stupid, Uncle Draco said.”

“Arold?” Harry laughed, tilting his head. “Ted, you know Uncle Draco is messing with you, yeah? He never had a pet stag. You can’t have stags as pets.” Malfoy had peacocks, which he hated, and the eagle owl, which he loved, and that was that. No stags. Harry knew that. He picked up every single piece of information about Malfoy slowly, carefully, and catalogued it all in his head. Malfoy was afraid of hippogriffs (still) and very enthusiastic about nifflers. He wanted a kneazle really badly as a kid, but his mother was allergic to the fur. Harry knew these things, now. He even had this insane idea to get a kneazle for him and Teddy, a fantasy he liked to entertain from time to time. Teddy’s words brought him back to reality with his cheeks oddly flushed and his ears ringing.

“That’s what he said.”

Harry wondered why Teddy thought Malfoy liked stags to begin with, but he’d already ran outside and jumped into the nearest puddle, so the question had to wait.

Malfoy was in the kitchen when they returned, and Harry plopped down next to a steaming mug of hot cocoa. The clutter all around practically screamed we actually live here, and Harry felt the warmth of it in his bones. His eyes kept zooming from Malfoy, to Teddy, happily blabbering about the squirrel they’d seen on their walk, and something in him thrummed. We actually live here. The flavor of want was sweet and sadly familiar.

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy asked one night in November, a tired little bundle of curiosity that ached in Harry’s chest with affection, “What’s emveeos?”

“Huh?” Harry stopped at the doorway, eyebrows drawn.

“Emveeos. Like if I was emveeos of someone.” Teddy gave him an exasperated little look, a come on you should know this one when Harry simply shook his head. “Uncle Draco said he’s emveeos of me.”

“What? When?” Harry’s heart did a funny little leap. He still didn’t really understand the question, but apparently the mere mention of ‘Uncle Draco’ was enough to ignite this heat inside him.

“Because you always kiss me good night.”

Harry could only shrug, but the heat intensified into something near intolerable. “I dunno, Ted. Best to ask him tomorrow, yeah? You know Uncle Draco is better at these things.” Better at most things, really. Cooking, drawing, writing, teaching. He was just good at everything. Even dancing – Harry had seen photographs of a very sulky boy beautifully performing the tango, no joke. And he could make the best hot chocolate. And –

“Okay. Good night, Uncle Harry.”

“Good night, Menace. I love you.” Harry made sure to tell him that every night, even if Teddy was already asleep. It was good for him too, he thought, to get the practice.

That night there were mini marshmallows in the mug. Harry couldn’t help it anymore; he was so enamored with the – drink – it felt a little like an explosive device in his chest. He found a way to distract Malfoy for a couple of seconds while he covertly drew a vial of the cocoa, stashing it in his pocket. There had to be something wrong with it, a potion or something. There had to, or Harry was losing his mind. He’d lost enough things for a lifetime, he thought.

“No, Uncle Harry! Cookies first.”

It was the week before Christmas, and Malfoy was out on a last minute gift shopping trip. Harry and Teddy were in the kitchen together, in charge of lunch, though Teddy was more interested in sampling the Christmas cookies Malfoy had made. To distract him Harry suggested they try to prepare Malfoy’s cocoa – well, also so he’d have something hot to drink when he comes back, because Malfoy always suffered from the cold.

“Oh, Uncle Draco doesn’t like hot chocolate,” Teddy shook his head.

“But,” Harry didn’t know what to do with this information, which stood in stark contrast with everything he knew in this life. “He drinks it all the time with me.”

“No, no, he says it’s too sweet. He never drinks it.”

Harry felt utterly lost. The knowledge he’d collected of Malfoy was the foundation with which he was trying to build this – it was what he stupidly thought he could use to make a home. Hell, he’s been practicing – getting ready for – and all this time, Malfoy was lying?

When Malfoy returned Harry pretty much threw himself at him, boxing Malfoy at the door with all his shopping bags.

“You don’t like hot chocolate,” he said accusingly, and Malfoy’s eyes went big.

“What?”

“You don’t. And you told Ted you had a pet stag and that you’ve embossed him or something like that. But you don’t like hot chocolate.”

“I – “ Harry’s never seen Malfoy so flushed in his life, and was furious with how adorable that was. “All right. I don’t.”

“But you make it almost every night,” Harry contested. He felt a little woozy.

“Yes.” When Harry gave an odd grunt, he closed his eyes. “You like it.”

“So?”

“So…” Malfoy’s shrug was so painfully sad. “I thought you’d… come here if you…”

Harry didn’t wait for the sentence to finally come to a stop, it was taking forever. “So you just lied?”

“No!” two grey eyes opened, sort of panicked. “I just – I’ve been trying, all right? all this time, to learn to… to get to know you. All these things about you, and then I saw how much you liked it when I made hot cocoa for Teddy and – I just. Want you to. Have. Things that you like.”

Harry couldn’t feel his tongue. His head was spinning. He didn’t know what to do about this, didn’t know what to think, didn’t know – he just didn’t know. Sadness was familiar, and losing, and being lied to, but – but this –

“Kiss him, Uncle Harry!” a little voice carried from behind him, and startled he caught a glimpse of blue hair. Hell. A quarter of his age, and Teddy was at least twice as clever. Harry leaned forward and did the only thing that made sense, and the kiss was solid enough to build on. Malfoy’s lips were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Hot chocolate, no matter how good, could never compare.

Wow, I really ran away with this one... Today was day 6 of my Seven Sins of Drarry one-shot collection, and was all about - Teddy almost had it: envy! Hope you’re ready to be good, because there’s only one sin left!

#drarry #fic #Seven Sins of Drarry #day 6: envy #fluff #so much fluff #parent draco #parent harry #teddy makes an appearance #weredragons #kinda feels like excerpts from a 20k piece actually #RockingRobin69

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sunrisefairy · 3 years

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i’m sorry the way u did my last request was SO GOOD i just had to ask for another. could you do one with charlie weasley as a care of magical creatures prof and he finally gets with the professor he’s been flirting with? you write spicy fics so well i cant even

omg stop, ur making me blush. I had fun with this one!

NSFW 18+ below the cut

You told yourself no boys this year, no distractions, you vowed that this year you’d focus on your career; Dumbledore had given you a position at Hogwarts and you were ecstatic and determined to make him proud. You didn’t think it would be too hard, to have a year free of boys, the male professors at Hogwarts weren’t exactly eye candy. That was until you met the new care of magical creature’s professor, damn that Charlie Weasley.

He was handsome, no argument about it, his rugged good looks and charming, sweet personality had your panties dripping whenever he was in close proximity (even the mere thought of his strong arms and those long fingers had your core throbbing) not that you would ever tell him that.

Charlie Weasley seem to make it his mission to make you flustered, within the first 10 minutes of your initial introduction he told you how breath taking your eyes were and how gorgeous his name sounded when it fell from your lips. You obviously blushed at this and brushed the comments under the rug, assuming he was just being cheeky and kind and didn’t mean anything by it. However, Charlie made very clear he found you attractive and having to endure months of his shameless flirting was proving to be very difficult to ignore the sexual tension between the two of you.

You stared down at the pile of forgotten essays on your desk, your mind was elsewhere, and you couldn’t seem find the concentration to focus on grading them right now. Your brain was preoccupied but a certain gorgeous redheaded wizard. You imagined his rough fingers and how they would feel against your skin, unbuttoning your blouse slowly and teasing your nipples, would he be soft and gentle and caress your breasts or would he prefer to be rough and pinch and tug at your skin? You bit your lip at the thought, arousal already pooling in your panties. It had been too long since you last had sex and you were beginning to grow frustrated and desperate for it.

“Thinking about me again, love?” you’re snapped from your thoughts and immediately clench your thighs at the sight before you. Charlie was leaning against the door frame of your classroom, his arms cross in front of him causing his muscles to strain against his shirt.

You smirk, “how I manage to get anything done when you plague my thoughts 24/7 is beyond me.”

Charlie chuckles at this assuming you’re joking and enters the room, approaching you at your desk. You take this time to rack your eyes over his body, his shirt stretching deliciously over his torso, the top few buttons undone allowing you to scan his neck and collar bone. Merlin how you wish you could sink your teeth into his creamy skin-

You cough to shake yourself of this thought, no boys, no distractions.

“What can I do for you Professor?” you muse, straightening up the long-forgotten essays.

If Charlie noticed you hungrily scanning his body moments before, he doesn’t comment on it. “Oh nothing really, was walking around and had the strong urge to come visit my favourite professor.”

You blush before he continues, “Snape was busy though so thought you were the next best thing.” He’s smirking at you now and you scoff rolling your eyes.

“Ha-ha,” you say sarcastically, “well as you can see, I’m insanely busy grading these essays so can’t say it would be much fun if you stayed.” You pick up an essay from the pile and furrow your eyebrows hoping it looks like you’re deep in thought when really you’ve re-read the same sentence 3 times, still not comprehending what it says.

“I can think of ways we can have fun,” Charlie’s low voice sounds from right next to your ear. How did he get there so fast? “none of which involve boring essays.”

You gulp and turn your head. He’s leaning over your shoulder, invading your personal space, one of his powerful arms is braced against the dark wood of your desk. You can feel Charlie’s soft breath fanning your face and you shudder. You can’t think of anything to say right now, Charlie’s rich scent is swarming your senses and any thoughts that do manage to form inside our brain are not appropriate to say out loud.

Charlie’s eyes glance down at your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them instinctively, he’s unsure if you are aware of the effect you have on him. Such a simple innocent move of licking your lips has Charlie growing hard. He leans closer to you, wanting you to give him the go ahead to continue, as you part your lips Charlie’s certain you’re about to tell him to kiss you.

“The doors open,” you squeak, suddenly very aware of this compromising position and not really eager on an unsuspecting student waltzing past and seeing this scene. You know you should ask Charlie to leave, you have essays to grade and a ‘no boys, no distractions’ rule to follow but Charlie is so close you can almost taste him.

He grins smugly, pointing his wand at your classroom door which slams shut and you can hear the lock click, he whispers a silencing charm too which has your heart beating faster in your chest. Are you really about to do this? Charlie looks down at you waiting for your next move. It feels like eternity before you make your decision, is it the right one, you’re not sure but you’ve dreamt about Charlie’s lips for too long to turn them down now.

In a flash, you connect your lips together, it’s rushed and messy but neither of you seem to mind. You can feel Charlie’s hands all over your body, he’s unbuttoning your shirt and squeezing your hips and arse and pulling you closer and palming your tits and it’s heaven. His lips find their home against your neck and you gasp as his nips and sucks at your skin. Somehow, you’ve change positions and Charlie has you pressed hard against your desk and you can feel his cock hardening in his pants.

“Fuck, want you so bad darling,” he growls into your ear. You tug roughly at his hair forcing his eyes to meet yours. His are dark with desire and you have to force yourself not to come right then and there.

“Then have me,” you respond.

The both of you waste no time, very aware of the fact that you don’t have the luxury of taking your time right now. You’re pulling off each other’s clothes and clawing at skin and leaving scratches and love bites and groaning and whining. Charlie hoists you onto your desk, pushing aside any papers and quills in his way. He wishes he had more time because the desire to kiss along every inch of your beautiful body and explore every freckle or birthmark or scar you have, is so strong. But he just prays you’ll give him another opportunity to do just that, because right now he needs to be inside of you.

Charlie is standing in between your open legs as he takes his fingers and runs them along your slick folds. “Fuck baby, so wet for me huh?”

The sarcastic comment disappears from your mouth as Charlie pushes 2 of his long slender fingers inside your heat, you moan at the sensation. He quickly begins scissoring his fingers set on stretching you out as fast as he could. “F-fuck, Charlie. Feels so good.”

“Wait till you get my cock darling. I’ll have you screaming,” he teases.

You kiss his lips before responding cockily, “go on then.”

Charlie removes his fingers and you whine at the emptiness, “shh darling, I’ll feel you up soon enough. You want that? Want me to fill you up with my cock?”

You’re nodding desperately, “yes please Charlie, please need your cock so bad.”

He grins widely at you, “as you wish.” The both of you groan as he lines up his cock and pushes inside of you. None of your fantasies would have prepared you to how amazing it feels to have Charlie’s cock stretching you out like this. You wrap your legs around his waist as his starts to rock his hips into yours.

Charlie begins to snap his hips faster and faster finding a deliciously rough pace, you’re grateful for the silencing charm he casted because you wouldn’t be able to contain the moans otherwise.

“Holy fuck Charlie,” you whine against his lips letting yourself run your fingers all over his sweaty naked body before they find their home on his hard shoulders.

The groan that rolls out of Charlie’s mouth is borderline pornographic, “I know sweetheart, I know.”

Charlie can feel himself growing closer and closer to his climax and he’d be daft if he lets himself finish before you. Charlie reaches in between the both of you and his thumb connects with your clit, forcing a loud moan to erupt deep from your throat. Charlie starts rubbing tight circles against that bundle of nerves while nipping and sucking at the soft skin on your neck. He can feel you clenching tightly around him.

“S-so close,” you gasp as that familiar tightening sensation pools in your belly.

“Come for me darling, I got you,” Charlie responds, his free hand holding you firming against him as you come undone. His name dripping from your lips like a sweet poem. It only takes a few more thrusts until he’s groaning into your neck and releasing deep inside you, his load painting your walls. The two of you are panting heavily as you try and catch your breath. You chuckle quietly to yourself, enjoying the sensation of Charlie’s now soft cock still inside of you. So much for no boys no distractions.

~~~~~~~

imma start adding my taglist to blurbs too, so if you would like to be added/taken off just send me an ask (if your name is crossed out i couldnt tag you)

@hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @horrorxweasley @anxiousblanketqueen @dracoswhore007 @georgeweasleyswhre @pandaxnienke

#phoenixxphire #Charlie Weasley #Charlie weasley blurb #blurb #Charlie wealsey x you #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley smut

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hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

3005 || part 11

3005 [part 11] || "Perks of dating a Slytherin"

[no matter what you say and what you do // when i’m alone, i’d rather be with you]

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : mayhaps i,,, went a little crazy,,, writing this,,,

taglist [open] :

@deepseavibez @lele-bb @monamone @unadulteratedlyunique @bluefaeriefury @hooniepie @loveyoongles @lilacdreams-00 @ramyagovindraj @skyrro @diminieshoe @calling-dips-on-j-hope @yuusilverscar @butterflylion @dingzerenistall @miki-chi @army-moa75 @drpepperobsessed @cecedrake2217 @somelazysundays @xxxanimangxxx @cosmicdaylight @navybluewonderland @itismochirice @dreadity @secretlycrazyhummingbird @taeshuworld @lochness-butmakeitsexy @beeeb05 @preciouschimine @thetrueghostqueen @sonderkook @pb-n-juju @aviwasabi21

a/n : there were some blogs that tumblr wouldnt let me tag -- sorry about that!

_________________________________

“Jeez, it’s insane in here -- we’re packed like sardines!” Y/n trails into the Three Broomsticks after Jimin and Tae, barely managing to catch the Ravenclaw’s complaint over the noise of the crowd. She’s barely made it in the door of the pub, but she can already see that she might be stuck there a while. It’s full to capacity, a sea of colored scarves and matching hats -- early November has brought nothing but cloudy mornings and chilly nights, the lower levels of Hogwarts particularly affected by the evening drafts. She’s lucky that Hufflepuff is kept at a consistent level of cozy warmth, but she can tell Slytherins must deal with constant cold by the way that Hoseok and Yoongi, who hover in the doorway behind her, have only draped their deep green scarves over thin long-sleeve shirts.

From the front, Jimin complains, trying to no avail to push through the mass of students and find a free table or even call dibs on one that’s busy. And even from behind Tae, Y/n can see the Gryffindor is pouting, which is entirely endearing, but she doesn’t get the chance to point it out to him -- there’s a hand on her waist, gently guiding her to the side. Another hand wraps around her wrist, this one shockingly warm against her cold skin, and she turns to see Yoongi pulling her in silently toward him while Hoseok brushes past her on the other side. The smaller Slytherin pulls her in close enough that she has to cross her eyes to properly see him, but he’s not even looking at her. He’s gazing expectantly in Hoseok’s direction.

Following his eyes, she sees that something of a miracle is occurring -- the mass is parting for Hoseok, students bumping into each other as they rush to get out of his way. He says nothing, simply making his way through the crowd and beckoning them in after him. Tae stumbles after Jimin, and Y/n only follows when Yoongi quietly moves his hand to the small of her back and nudges her in their direction. Before she can get too far from him, she feels his lips press against the shell of her ear as he whispers to her.

“Perks of dating a Slytherin -- nice, huh?” Y/n’s heart jumps to her throat, and she lurches forward slightly, putting distance between them. She still hears as he snickers behind her, but she ignores it and follows after Tae.

As she goes, she sees that, ahead of her, Hoseok has reached a round booth, just big enough to fit the five of them. There’s a couple of Ravenclaws that get there at the same time he does, and when he turns to look at them, Y/n can see exactly why the crowd had parted for him. He’s got a look in his eye -- nothing compared to the look he’d given Remus in the forest all those weeks ago -- but it’s almost as if he knows he doesn’t need it. His face is blank and his eyes are empty, something entirely terrifying to someone unfamiliar with Hoseok. He looks like a true Slytherin, one that commands obedience with his mere presence.

One of the Ravenclaws takes one look at Hoseok and is immediately stepping back, pulling his companion along with him. Hoseok only nods gratefully to them, clearly showing that he hadn’t meant to be intimidating -- it’s just who he is. Then he turns and waves them forward, Jimin rushing in a bit fast and shooting his housemates an apologetic smile. He slips into the booth, Tae following close behind. They file in like that, Hoseok sliding in after Yoongi and letting his hand fall comfortably to his boyfriend’s thigh once he’s settled. Y/n sees the movement and notes in the back of her mind with surprise that Hoseok’s hand is much bigger than expected -- it covers almost all of Yoongi’s thigh.

“See something you like, Princess?” Hoseok leans in to whisper it, but, judging by the looks of disgust that cross Jimin and Tae’s faces, he hadn’t been quiet enough.

“And on that note, I’m gonna order us some food!” Jimin scoots out of the booth, making a beeline for the bar as Taehyung reaches dramatically after his best friend. He turns back, resigning himself to the strange dynamic of the trio before him. But Y/n only scoots in to cling to his arm, smiling up at him, and the Gryffindor relaxes.

“So, is there anywhere you guys need to go after lunch? Jimin and I want to stop at Honeydukes!” Hoseok nods along to Taehyung’s request, humming in consideration.

“I could really go for some jelly slugs…” Y/n and Tae stare at him in disbelief, unsure if he’s just messing with them. The idea that Jung Hoseok -- the guy that had just moved an entire crowd for them with no more than a look -- could enjoy something so… sugary… is beyond them. But apparently, it’s a topic of regular conversation in the 7th year Slytherin boys’ dorm.

“I told you, that shit’s bad for your teeth--”

“Says the one who sits in class chewing on sugar quills instead of using a real quill to take notes.” Hoseok cuts Yoongi off with finality, challenging him to continue, but the shorter boy only grimaces and mumbles under his breath about Jimin taking too long. Y/n and Taehyung look to each other for answers, only finding more confusion.

When Jimin does finally return -- somehow managing to balance 5 plates of food in his arms -- the group settles in to eat, chatting about various things until they finish their food. It’s nice, Y/n decides, to hang out with friends she doesn’t always find herself with. Although she’d become rather close with Jimin and Taehyung recently, she’d spent every Hogsmeade weekend with Jin and Namjoon until now, so this is all still relatively new to her.

It’s especially new to hang out so closely with Yoongi and Hoseok -- she admits that she’d definitely gotten comfortable with them since the day that Yoongi had claimed her bed as his own while she’d had a strangely deep heart to heart with Hoseok, but she still feels slightly tense around them. Their constant flirting has been more than disarming, but it flusters her most when they’re right in front of her. At least when they’re texting, she can hide in the comfort of her room, but here… she has nowhere to run if they decide to start teasing her.

As if to drag her out of her thoughts by proving her right, the warmth of a palm sliding across the expanse of her thigh startles her back to reality. She glances down quickly, taking in the fact that there is actually a hand on her leg, before following the arm up to its owner. Hoseok only eyes her with confusion, having reached across Yoongi to get her attention.

Turning quickly to Taehyung, she looks up at him with confused panic, as if to confirm that she’s not hallucinating. The Gryffindor’s already staring down at her leg, having seen the movement out of the corner of his eye. He meets her gaze with wide eyes before turning away, as if to tell her it’s none of his business what she gets up to with Hoseok in the middle of this pub. When she tries to lean in further for his attention, Tae only turns his whole body away from her, sipping at his drink and denying her silent plea for assistance with feigned ignorance.

He catches Jimin’s eye in doing so, and the Ravenclaw glances over quickly, his gaze catching on Hoseok’s ringed fingers resting on the inside seam of Y/n’s jeans. Immediately, Jimin’s choking on his food, turning away with reddening ears as he puts his napkin up to his mouth. Hoseok looks around, eyes wide with confusion at the reactions he’s getting. Yoongi only closes his eyes and nods, fully having expected this chain of commotion in the booth.

Y/n looks down at the hand in her lap once more, hating that the only thing coming to mind is that now she can definitely confirm that Hoseok’s hand is as large as she’d noted previously. She stares down at it, scandalized, only coming back to reality when Hoseok squeezes her thigh, drawing her attention back to him. He’s smiling, but it’s filled with bemusement.

“Princess, I’ve been talking to you for like five minutes -- where was your head?”

It was thinking about yo--

Y/n blinks, shaking her head both to answer Hoseok and to rid herself of the intrusive thought she’d just had. She looks to Yoongi quickly, terrified that he might somehow be sitting close enough to have heard the unexpected words that had crossed her mind. He’s examining her carefully out of the corner of his eye, but his face is void of emotion except for the hint of amusement in his gaze. When she makes eye contact with him, he leans in, holding her gaze and whispering to her in a low voice.

“He’s only trying to give you your potion for today -- are your thoughts wandering somewhere they shouldn’t be, babe?” Y/n leans away the closer Yoongi gets, deciding they’re both much too close for comfort. Pulling her leg gently from Hoseok’s grasp, she scoots in the booth until she’s flush with Taehyung, who continues to sip at his drink with vigor, as if he hadn’t just heard the entire exchange. She’s about to force the Gryffindor to acknowledge her existence and help her, but there’s another hand falling to her lap, this one different but warm all the same.

It’s Yoongi’s, and while he has his palm turned up toward her -- a vial filled with familiar contents sitting innocently there -- the contact is enough to have Taehyung elbowing Jimin urgently, decidedly finished with his lunch. The Ravenclaw scoots toward the edge of the booth, taking one last gulp of his butterbeer before gesturing vaguely at his coat pocket, where his phone sits untouched.

“Text from Namjoon -- bookstore -- gotta meet hi-- bye!” Wrapping his hand around Taehyung’s wrist, he pulls the boy with him out of the booth, and with that, the two of them disappear into the crowd and out the door. Y/n stares after them, panic seeping into every fiber of her being as she turns slowly to face the two Slytherins she’s been left alone with. Hoseok’s also staring at the spot their friends had disappeared into, but Yoongi only presses his hand further into Y/n’s lap, urging her to take the vial.

“Full moon’s tomorrow -- drink up, babe.”

“No, that has to be a fucking joke -- you’re lying to me--”

“I’m not lying! I hiked my ass up that fucking tree and sat there throwing sticks at this girl so she would stop hurting herself until 5 o’clock in the morning!” Y/n groans and hides behind her hands, laughing out of sheer humiliation while Hoseok retells the story of the night they’d met -- the night she’d almost killed him. Yoongi leans his head back against the booth and breathes out a laugh, unable to believe what he’s just heard. He turns to Y/n, reaching out and tugging on her wrists until her eyes appear from behind her hands.

“Thank you very much for not ripping my boyfriend to shreds before I could confess. I would have been pissed.” She pulls her wrist from Yoongi’s grasp, pushing at his shoulder with another groan. She notices out of the corner of her eye that Hoseok’s gesturing silently toward the bar, holding up three fingers before pointing at their table -- their third set of refills in the last two hours. The glint of the metal bands on his fingers catches her attention, and she swallows hard as she returns her gaze to Yoongi’s face. The look he’s giving her tells her he’s caught her staring, but he only smiles when she clears her throat and attempts to move on.

“I just think it’s ridiculous that -- for someone who claims to be obsessed with magizoology and all things magical creatures -- Hoseok didn’t think ahead before wandering out to the Forbidden Forest on a full moon night.” Hoseok cracks a smile, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at her jab before focusing in on the waiter that’s sliding three fresh butterbeers onto their table. He slips the man a tip with a quick thanks, man, before pushing two of the drinks over to Y/n and Yoongi. There’s something so effortlessly smooth about the way Hoseok had handled the entire interaction -- as mundane and simple as it’d been -- that sets Y/n’s nerves on fire, and she accepts the drink shyly. Her mind flashes back to the one time she’d been here with her brother and his friends, the way Remus had stumbled over his words and almost spilled his drink on the table. It isn’t as cute to her now as it was back then--

Wait, what the hell?

“Princess?” She looks up from her drink and finds both Hoseok and Yoongi staring at her, heads tilted in matching confusion. Hoseok’s eyes flick down to her drink, and he gestures toward the bar with his thumb. “You’ve been drinking them cold this whole time, but I can get you something else if you don’t want it--”

“No! No… Thank you. This is good.” Hoseok stops short at her outburst, Yoongi’s eyebrows lifting past his fringe in surprise. Y/n only looks between them for a moment before lifting the drink to her lips awkwardly. When she sets it down again, she doesn’t notice the line of foam stretching across her top lip. The boys focus in on it, Yoongi taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he decidedly leans toward her after a moment. Resting two fingers under her chin, he swipes his thumb slowly over her mouth, sitting back and sticking that same thumb in his mouth to clean the sugar off his skin when he’s done. Hoseok watches the exchange with unwavering intensity, following the path of Yoongi’s hand all the way to the smaller boy’s mouth. Y/n doesn’t realize she’s done the same.

Seeing that he’s being stared at, Yoongi smiles awkwardly, leaning his elbows on the table as the tips of his ears turn pink. Looking to his boyfriend, he opens his mouth.

“So… it’s your fault you almost died?” Hoseok blinks, the moment gone. Y/n takes another sip of her drink, giving herself time to hide behind the large mug that covers much of her reddening face when she tilts it back. She swipes self-consciously at her mouth with her sleeve when she’s done, hoping they wouldn’t have to repeat the intimate display from before. She thinks that, if not for the fact that she’s found herself sensitized to the sound of Hoseok’s voice, she would have missed his response.

“Alright, I feel like I have to defend myself here -- I mean, I was 13 and way too excited about finding that pack of sentient wolves I’d read about. You really can’t blame me for not expecting there to be students of Y/n’s… special nature.” Hoseok glances around the pub inconspicuously, and Y/n finds herself covered in goosebumps when he lowers his voice at the end.

What the hell is happening to me?

Y/n blinks quickly, willing her frazzled state to just disappear, and focuses on what he’d said previously instead. She meets his eyes, sighing slightly when she sees that he’s already peering at her, thoroughly entertained by whatever it is that he’s finding on her face.

“So--” Hoseok straightens, discarding whatever he’d been thinking about to pay attention. “--are you just a total magizoology nerd then? Is that what you wanna do after graduation?” As if he hadn’t been expecting her genuine interest in his life, Hoseok bows his head slightly at her question, visibly shy. Beside him, Yoongi smiles fondly, and Y/n’s reminded of that day in the forest, when their roles had been switched.

“Oh… Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m interested in…” Hoseok trails off, but Y/n watches Yoongi nudge him almost teasingly, urging him to continue what he hadn’t wanted to say before. “I-uh-- I’ve been looking at internships at St. Mungo’s, but I really don’t think I’m gonna get--”

“He’s going to get in. They’d be crazy not to take him.” Yoongi interrupts him, practically beaming with pride. “How could they not? He’s got real passion for it, it’s obvious. I’m kinda jealous -- I wish I could do something cool like that.” Hoseok takes a sip of his drink, clearly doing what Y/n had done earlier to hide from them, but she lets it slide with a teasing glance when he meets her eyes over the rim of the glass. Turning to Yoongi, she hums, noting that he doesn’t seem fazed at all with admitting something about his future.

“You can’t do something cool like that?” She doesn’t mean to pry, but even after she realizes that the question could be sensitive, Yoongi only breathes out a laugh, shaking his head. She’s relieved he hadn’t taken any kind of offense.

“Nah -- my parents are what you’d call… elitist freaks. They’ve got a serious hard-on for that psychopath running around with his cult, so… I’m honestly lucky if I make it out of this war with all my morals intact.” She is deeply unprepared for Yoongi’s response, the sudden heartbreak she’s experiencing only worsened by the fact that he says it with a straight face, as if he’d long resigned himself to the truth of his words. When he sees the look on her face, Yoongi’s expression softens, and he tilts his head to look at her, his eyes twinkling with endearment.

“Don’t pout at me like that, babe -- you're making me want to kiss it better.” If Y/n hadn’t been expecting that comment, Hoseok really hadn’t been expecting it. He chokes on his butterbeer immediately, waving at Y/n frantically when she tries to help. Slamming his drink down on the table, Hoseok grabs Yoongi, pulling the smaller boy to him, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder while he finishes his coughing fit. Yoongi only pats his back, making a face of playful disgust at being used as a napkin.

“Well, now that Hoseok’s thoroughly embarrassed himself and his Slytherin reputation in front of, like, a million people, I think it’s time we go get him his jelly slugs.” Yoongi nudges his boyfriend out of the booth, gesturing with a nod of his head for Y/n to follow as he sets some money on the table and slides out of the booth.

In contrast to the way Hoseok had entered the Three Broomsticks, he leaves with his head bowed, ears red as he slouches his way to the door. Yoongi chuckles from behind Y/n, shaking his head as he guides her through the crowd with his hand on her waist.

“Look at him go -- my tall, embarrassed boyfriend. How cute. Gotta get him his jelly slugs.” He says all this like he’s talking to himself -- not quite in full sentences, each word full of a kind of exasperated adoration that Y/n finds impossibly cute. Yoongi’s shaking his head like he’s disappointed by Hoseok’s rare awkwardness, but he’s smiling like he’s in love. Y/n feels both giddy by the display of affection and strange that she’s granted this kind of access to their relationship. She feels torn, quite frankly. Like she shouldn’t be allowed to see this side of them.

By the time they finally reach Honeydukes, Hoseok has regained his confidence, going so far as to walk backwards while he talks to them. It’s ridiculous, really, the way he changes before her eyes -- the slouching boy from before transforms into the arrogant Hoseok she knows well, the one who practically hangs off of her now, looking for any excuse to touch her. One hand pulls at her scarf, adjusting it, while the other grabs for her fingertips, asking with a smirk if she’d like him to warm her up before linking their fingers together playfully. Yoongi only follows along, smiling and feigning innocence when Y/n turns to him for help.

They’re so busy causing chaos amongst themselves that they don’t notice another group headed straight for the doors of Honeydukes -- when Y/n does finally see them, she’s startled simply because, in any other case on any other day, she would have noticed them from a mile away.

“Y/n, hi!” Remus smiles wide at her, waving excitedly when he catches her attention. Y/n stops short, shocked by his sudden appearance which, really, is not all that sudden. “I texted you to see if you wanted to meet up today, but I guess luck’s on our side, huh?” Making a noise of surprise, she reaches for her coat pocket, where her phone remains unchecked. She hadn’t even felt the vibrations of a notification, too distracted by Hoseok and Yoongi.

As she’s checking her phone -- and seeing that she does, in fact, have an unseen message from Remus -- she misses the way James’ gaze hones in on where her hand is still attached to Hoseok’s, but she certainly feels when Hoseok rips his hand from hers and stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans. Looking up in confusion, she finds that he’s not looking at her, only staring with determination at the display in the Honeydukes window. He looks conflicted, almost guilty, and when she turns to the Marauders, the expression of scandalized surprise on James and Sirius’ faces tells her why. If Remus had seen them holding hands, his face betrays nothing.

“I’m gonna just… go get my jelly slugs. I’ll see you inside.” Hoseok brushes past her, leaving her there with Remus as he heads into the sweets shop. Yoongi looks after his boyfriend, and Y/n sees him start to follow but stop in his tracks, choosing in the end to remain beside her. The decision throws her, but she’s learned that Yoongi doesn’t do anything without thinking it through first, so she lets it go. Turning to the boys, she smiles sweetly, addressing them with surprising ease, considering she’s in the company of her childhood crush.

“Did you guys just get here? I didn’t see you at the Three Broomsticks at all.” James shakes his head, pushing away the memory of her display of physical affection with Hoseok as he responds. Sirius, however, continues to squint suspiciously, looking between her and Yoongi as he hovers near Remus.

“Nah, we were just at Zonko’s for like two hours -- gotta stock up, you know.” He shakes a large plastic bag filled with tricks and pranks for effect, and Y/n steps forward to peer inside.

“Woah… I can only imagine how many detentions this’ll get you.” The boys all laugh at how well she knows them, but Sirius leans in with a conspiratorial grin.

“Say, Y/n -- I feel like we haven’t seen you in forever! Why’s that, hm?” Y/n meets his eyes, lost.

“What do you mean? We talk all the time--”

“Well, yeah, but with your brother glued to Jin now, our crew’s been feeling so… empty these days. The Telepathy Twins have abandoned us!” He drapes himself over Remus’ back and cries out dramatically as he finishes complaining, something that has Y/n rolling her eyes with a smile.

“I’ve been here, Sirius -- we can hang out whenever you want!” Sirius perks up, leaning in toward her face with a sly grin.

“How ‘bout now?” Y/n lifts a single eyebrow, leaning away from him with a look of disbelief.

“Now? But…” She’s about to say that she’s busy and can’t leave with them, even if Remus is right there offering to hang out. But her hesitation sets Yoongi on edge, and he steps in quickly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her back toward him. When she’s close enough, he takes his arm and throws it around her waist, moving behind her as he pulls her flush against his chest. She’s suddenly trapped against him, something made more clear in the way Yoongi leans his chin on her shoulder. She can almost feel the smirk spread across his lips as he speaks, his voice vibrating against the shell of her ear.

“Sorry boys, but Y/n’s really hard to get a hold of these days. Hoseok and I barely managed to reserve time with her today -- what kind of person would I be if I just let you steal her away from us?” Y/n’s not sure what to do with the show Yoongi’s putting on, and she knows by the way his arm is firm against her waist that he’s not letting her go anytime soon.

She watches lamely as Sirius hums contemplatively, having expected some sort of reaction from Yoongi but not quite this. Remus’ eyebrows lift in surprise as his gaze drops to the arm wrapped around her, but he doesn’t say anything. James is the first to respond, shaken from his shock at Yoongi’s bold move by the realization that this looks not unlike a literal standoff right in front of a crowded shop.

“Well, we’ll just have to schedule our own time later on, then, won’t w-- oh!” He reacts when the doorbell above the Honeydukes door rings out, revealing Hoseok as he exits, holding a bag of jelly slugs and sugar quills for Yoongi. There are a couple chocolate bars in his hand, something he knows helps Y/n after the full moon. He’s so busy sifting through his bag that it takes him a second to see the scene he’s just walked into.

When he does look up, he’s stopping short, eyes trained evenly on the compromising position his boyfriend’s in. Whatever thoughts are crossing his mind in that moment are unseen on his face, his eyes unblinking as they pass over Yoongi’s arm, Yoongi’s chin, Yoongi’s lips pressed against Y/n’s ear as she’s pressed against his chest. They all stand there for a moment, frozen, waiting for Hoseok to react.

And then he’s blinking, looking away as he moves toward Remus and holds out one of the chocolate bars in his hand. Remus takes it, uncertain of what’s happening in Hoseok’s head right now. The Slytherin explains with one line and a polite smile.

“You look tired.” He’s not wrong -- Remus’ eyes show his exhaustion, his face and shoulders more slouched than usual as his body fights against the force of the moon, almost full. He looks how Y/n feels inside, but the adrenaline from the day spent with Hoseok and Yoongi -- apparently not yet over -- had kept her from feeling the full effects of the near future. Now that Hoseok’s mentioning it, Y/n feels herself start to become drained of energy, something that she knows Yoongi notices when she shifts in his arms and he tightens his hold on her.

Remus takes the chocolate with a tired smile, thanking Hoseok under his breath. And then he’s leaning around the Slytherin to wave kindly -- albeit a bit awkwardly -- at Y/n and Yoongi, still entangled in each other’s limbs.

“Good luck tomorrow, Y/n -- let me know if you need me, okay?” It’s innocent, it truly is. And Y/n’s grateful for it, the way Remus has always looked out for her. But the way Hoseok glances over his shoulder at her, his eyes appearing almost resigned, leaves her unsettled. And when the tips of Yoongi’s fingers dig into her side, betraying his annoyance with the comment, Y/n can’t help the fluttering feeling that rushes into the pit of her stomach. A feeling strictly reserved for Remus -- until now.

She waves awkwardly as they go, painfully aware of the sudden wave of crisp air hitting her back when Yoongi finally steps away from her. He holds his hand out for Hoseok’s bag, offering to carry it. Hoseok hands him the sweets, passing Y/n her chocolate bar without a word. The three of them are quiet as they exchange items, none of them quite certain how to proceed from what had just happened. Y/n feels guilty, like she’s the reason Hoseok and Yoongi are silent with each other.

Then, Hoseok’s turning to her, decidedly ignoring the entire situation with an easy grin. But there, in his eyes, is a glint of mischief, something teasing and light but intense enough to tell her that he won’t be forgetting about this moment for a long time, and that ignites something in her that she’s never felt before -- not even with Remus. It sends her heartbeat straight to her ears, muffling everything around her as her stomach drops in a way that she can’t bring herself to describe negatively. She barely registers Hoseok’s hand on her elbow, calling for her attention as he directs a bright smile at her.

“Ready to go, Princess?”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jung hoseok #min yoongi #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #bts poly au

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imjeralee · 3 years

Note

i request that you drink plenty of water and take care of yourself !!! ·o·b after thats done, came i pretty please get headcanons with link, Kaeya and maybe Childe about an s/o who draws them one day as a confession and gives it to them? :) (maybe they already knew and saw them drawing them before ? who knows) thank you in advance!!

Thank you anon! *looks at cup of green tea beside laptop* yep I think i’m doing well in keeping myself hydrated recently hehe but thank you :3

Anyway please see below for the ask! (it’s pretty long)

Link

He was grooming one of the ponies when he saw you standing behind a tent peeking at him curiously and when he turned round properly, you quickly scampered away and he got worried so he followed you to the room you share to see you sitting on the bed with a wine red book propped up in your lap but upon his return, you immediately hid it behind your back, smiling widely at him

He wonders what it was but decides not to pry, but he later discovers it was actually a sketchbook when he’s packing up for tomorrow and you’re taking a bath and the sketchbook drops out of your pack and onto the floor, opening at a random page

He picks it up with the intention to return it to your bag but then he sees the various drawings of him in his Ancient Armour set, Hylian and Snowquill set. They’re fully coloured and it looks like you’ve spent hours on them. He didn’t know you were this artistic and wondered why you hid this from him

The date you wrote on the bottom of the page indicates that you drew all this in one day! He’s super impressed

Then he sees the note you wrote below: “To my Dearest Link, I hope you like my drawings of you. All I can think about is how lucky I am to be able to be by your side, you’ve changed my life for the better and-”

Obv half complete so now he knows why you didn’t want to show him and he respects your privacy, so he puts the sketchbook away

Outside, he sees Beedle and goes over to see what’s new for sale. Beedle has some cool art stuff (well, it’s more like stuff that can be used for dye but can also be used as paint) so he buys some for you as a present which he will give to you later.

Next day, you get chased by a group of Bokogoblins and the book and all your drawing supplies drops out from your bag.

You didn’t see it drop and returned to the stable, ransacking your bag like crazy only to find your stuff missing

When you realise everything must have dropped out when you got chased, you quickly leave the stable to go back to the area but it’s thunder and lightning so Link chases after you

“Link, what are you doing? Go back, the weather’s awful.” You tell him but he shakes his head, unable to leave you alone in the rain like this

He helps you with your search and you end up locating your book and your supplies which are lying in the mud

The book has been trampled over and some of the pages have been torn out. The remaining pages are soaked with dirt and grime. Your pencils are snapped in half and your paints have been left to bleed all over the grass. All of your drawings are ruined, too. This is your worst nightmare.

Link observes you silently as tears begins to form in your eyes and you look at him, sniffling slightly.

You’re experiencing a mixture of devastation, frustration, anger and exasperation - from your carelessness to the stupid bokogoblins - and this incident infuriates you so much you throw the book to the ground angrily

Before you can march away, Link grabs your wrist

Turning round, your gazes meet and he looks at you softly, intently.

‘What’s wrong?’ he is saying.

“I was going to use those to confess to you!” you end up roaring out by accident.

Link looks at you, a little stunned

“N-Never mind! Everything’s ruined!!!!”

You’re about to storm off again when Link suddenly pulls you into his chest and gives you a hug

“!” you’re so shocked you can’t speak

He pulls away though, and leads you to the hollow of a nearby tree trunk where he gestures for you to sit down to shelter from the rain whilst he glances around, then sprints back over to where the ruined sketchbook is

He picks it up and holds it against his chest as if it’s dear to him. That’s not all, you watch as he begins to pick up the remaining pages that were torn out and once he’s collected them all he returns to you, clutching the pages tightly

"Link...” you murmur breathlessly as he he kneels down in front of you before he fishes around in his pockets to reveal a random bunch of paint pots in his hand.

You’re a little confused, but realise he has some spares which he must have bought from a merchant

it’s not much but...

he nudges it to you for your offering

You gawp at him for a few moments before you smile and chuckle and upon seeing you back to your usual self again, Link smiles and helps you back onto your own feet to stand

You thank him as you cradle the paints to yourself. You will need to restart from scratch from somehow it feels ok and something tells you you don’t need to hide it from him anymore

And you return to the stable, sheltering from the rain by sharing a large leaf together

Kaeya

Let’s begin with the fact that alongside you, there is a maid who also likes Kaeya as much as you do and she’s a bit of a sneaky bugger and you don’t show your drawings to anyone or watermark your artwork until they’re complete. You can probably see where this is going

One day, Kaeya finds out you are drawing a picture of him when he comes to your office to inform you that there’s a group of abyss mages outside Mondstadt so you hurry off to dispatch it and leaving Kaeya in your office

He accidentally comes across your drawing when he sees his face on a piece of parchment and his interest is piqued so he heads over to check it out

It’s a really good sketch!!! the amount of detail is insane! he had no idea you possessed such skill and who knew that you could create such beautiful art like this? He also finds some rough doodles and sketches you made earlier on some scrap paper you had also written on so he knows it’s you

Anyway, he puts everything back to join you in battle, but not before passing a maid along the way who is heading to your room to clean up

She comes across your drawing and she’s always fancied Kaeya herself, so for some reason other than just thinking she might be able to get away with it if she’s sneaky enough, she takes your drawing and sets off with it

Meanwhile, you return to your room after the battle, take off your coat and sit comfortably in your chair, reaching for your quill

“Ah, time to get back to my drawing of Kaeya.” you say with a smile, looking at your desk.

Wait a minute.

Something is wrong.

Very wrong.

It’s GONE!

After checking the rest of your office (and its clearly not there), you rush outside, wondering what happened to it when you see Kaeya and a maid talking in the corridor

they didn’t see you, so you quickly hide

“Please accept this, captain Kaeya!” gushes the maid, presenting your drawing to him. “I drew this picture of you to show how much you mean to me.”

What in the Samachurl shit is this?

You’re about to storm over when Kaeya takes the drawing with a delicate brow raised, studies it intently and goes, “Oh? But I’m not so sure about that.”

“W-what do you mean, Captain Kaeya?”

“There’s no watermark on it,” he points out, “....one could’ve taken anyone’s artwork and claim that it’s theirs.”

“T-That’s - ! Ah, Captain Kaeya, h-how could you think so lowly of me?”

“I’m only just stating some simple facts, that’s all. You won’t hold that against me, will you? And I’m certainly not accusing you of anything...unless you...?”

“Oh....uh....I...I-I’m so sorry, Captain Kaeya, you’re right! I-I....please excuse me!”

The maid’s too embarrassed to proceed any further and leaves, running away.

Indeed, what in the samachurl hell had just happened?

It goes quiet and you wonder if he’s still there; you step out of your hiding place only to go nose-to-chest with Kaeya.

He greets you with a smirk. “if it isn’t the little kitten, what are you doing here?”

“Um...uh, I....that....that drawing - “

What he said is right, there’s no watermark. How can you prove it’s yours? Would he believe you if you told him?

“Hm? Ah, yes, this drawing. I was going to keep it for myself.”

“No, wait! I mean...er...it’s not finished yet-”

“So you drew this then?”

“Yes, I did. it was me.” Though you wonder if he would believe you after everything you had just heard.

“Why?”

You lamely tell him you really like him and wanted to use it to confess to him.

He watches you for a few seconds, then hands the drawing to you. “I’ll wait until you’ve finished then.”

“Huh?” You gasp. He gave it back to you so easily despite what he said to the maid! “You...you’re not-”

“I knew it was you who drew it. I recognised your style.”

“Then why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“If I said so earlier, how else would I get you to confess to me?”

“KAEYA!!!”

(from then on he’ll want you to draw him more often)

Childe

Saw you sitting on the grassy hill near Qingxu Pool drawing earlier and because he is good at sneaking up on people, you didn’t hear him as he casually leaned over to peek over your shoulder and said, “Hey girlie, what’re you up to?”

You’re like “UWAGH!” and quickly close your sketchbook before turning round to see Childe.

“N-nothing!” you exclaim, before you get up and run down the hill, leaving a very amused Childe on his own

Later, when you’ve finished your masterpiece, you nervously approach Childe and tell him, “Um....this is for you, let me know what you think.” before rushing off in a blushing mess and Childe will open the sketchbook to see that you’ve drawn a very nice portrait of him in a battle stance, wielding his bow, surrounded by his hydro blades

Childe stands, staring at the picture

Then he sees the words ‘do you like me?’ scribbled at the very bottom

Childe staring hard now

He’s used to giving people gifts but now that he’s received something so thoughtful, he’s a bit overwhelmed. he can tell you put so much effort and hardwork into this. Ah, what is this feeling?

He closes the book without further ado and scrubs a hand over his face

he actually wasn’t expecting you to do this. he knew you were drawing him but the result is really....something else

You don’t hear him from Childe in a few days and you are so nervous and worried.

Is this a rejection? Maybe he didn’t like your picture after all...

You’re walking in the streets and sigh and sit on the stone steps of Liyue, staring at the sea, upset and dejected

But then you hear a whistle from behind and throw a glance over your shoulder to see Childe standing on a higher step, a hand in his pocket

“Hey girlie, heads up,” he tosses a paper plane into the air which makes this little loop before you stand to catch it

Looking up, Childe has gone

You unfold the paper plane to its proper size to reveal that Childe’s drawn a little sketch of you in return and he has written: ‘Yes I do’.

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astraltrain · 3 years

Text

watching tommy's exile meeting vod from december 2nd, will update with things i find interesting as i watch

"if the roles were reversed, i wouldn't even think about exiling you" - tommy. haha foreshadowing for the actual exile haha

tommy: you have bees.

tubbo: i do have bees!

tommy: if they all died, that'd be fuckin...

tubbo: that'd be awful. probably all of humanity would die with them.

...

"i am addressing the elephant in the room, which is me. although i am not the size of an elephant. in height i am! not in weight. if i was the size of an elephant though -" *laughs* "if i was stretchy, this world would be real different right now." what goes on in tommyinnit's mind.

tommy preemptively preparing everyone for him to fuck up the meeting and no one listening... tommy knowing he was going to ruin it for himself and knowing he'd somehow let tubbo down.... fuuuuuck

tubbo: minutes man, we summon you!

ranboo, materializing in the seat next to tubbo with a book and quill in hand: hey

tommy: what the FUCK,

we all talk about wilbur's acting with his facecam, but tommy does it a lot too. the way he rolls his eyes and shakes his eyes with a confident smirk every time dream speaks, the way he looks shocked when things go wrong. goddamn

jack manifold watching the whole meeting, listening the whole time, just following them around with very little input. hmmmm

he was taunting him. the fucker knew

tubbo desperately wanted a way out for tommy. he wanted to give him probation to escape whatever dream had planned. he never ever wanted to do what he had to do.

dream: "tommy, let the adults speak." hmm, sounds familiar... almost like a line techno would repeat almost exactly a month later, when talking with dream about the favour.

he was taunting him the whole meeting. trying to provoke tommy into snapping.

"this isn't some "insanity arc," i'm not following down wilbur's path!" ouch ok tommy

the way tubbo's voice flattened in tone when he said "you're speaking out of line." he knew tommy had fucked it from the moment he brought out spirit.

god, the second it seemed tommy knew what he was doing, fundy and quackity were on his side. tubbo was the only one who remained serious the whole time, knowing dream had something up his sleeve.

everyone turning on tubbo the second it seemed like they were winning because he was the only one to realize something was wrong. fuck, man

"i don't give a FUCK about spirit." holy shit way to pop off with the voice acting???

the fact that c!tommy genuinely can't imagine being unable to care about things because himself and c!dream are such polar opposites when it comes to attachment. tommy loves with ALL his heart, he cares so deeply and so warmly and so fiercely. dream cares for nothing unless it gives him an edge, an advantage. that's why tommy was certain that holding spirit's remains over dream would help them win. he couldn't picture being unable to care about anything.

"l'manberg can be independent, but l'manberg can't be free." *dream leaves the call.* DANGGGG

tubbo, very softly and calmly: "tommy. you had one job." hoooly shit

the way tubbo snapped at quackity and fundy and began to argue with them while tommy zoned out and stared at dream as he began to extend the walls upwards in disbelief. god

"you couldn't do one thing for me! you couldn't do one! you couldn't do one thing, and it was for your own good! so yeah, if the roles were reversed, you probably wouldn't have exiled me - because i would have actually listened! i would have had a couple ounces of respect! ... you've messed this up for no one but yourself." *pause* "you're selfish." c!tubbo.... :stress:

RANBOO STANDING UP FOR TOMMY???? RANBOO SPINE ARC??????

"tubbo, you said that tommy was selfish. that he doesn't care about anyone else. that's not true. i robbed george's house too. i did it with him. but in court, he said that it was just him. he could have pinned the blame on me, he could have said it was me, there was evidence it was me - but he didn't. he's not selfish. he can't be selfish. me and tommy robbed george's house. we didn't mean for it to burn. we didn't want to burn anything down." HOLY FUCK WHY HAVE I NEVER SEEN THIS SCENE BEFORE

tommy: tubbo, you can't become what you hate. you can't become the next schlatt. if you exile me, you're following in that man's footsteps.

tubbo: .. ok. well, if i can't be the next schlatt, you can't be the next wilbur.

ouch

tommy: the only thing dream wants is the one thing i care about. *realizes, glances at ranboo* well, not the one thing.

tubbo, deadpan: mhm. the one thing you care about.

literal chills from tubbo's voice acting what the FUCK

"what do YOUUU think, connoreatspants?" ok now we're onto the lighter stuff thank god hakshsksjk

fundy: so if eventually the people choose not to exile tommy... what happens to l'manberg?

tubbo, about to come up with a serious answer: i guess -

tommy: it gets fucking simpsons movie'd, bro, we get boxed in

tubbo, immediately breaking character: I LOVE THAT MOVIE

tommy: this guy's a wrongun, ranboo.

techno, literally just vibing: •_•

tommy explaining server history to ranboo? telling ranboo that techno was at fault for the crater of l'manberg? wuh oh

"wilbur died in action, so he didn't live long enough to face the consequences." o h

tommy taking ranboo to the bench to watch the moon go down, not turning to see the sunrise like usual. hey i could make symbolism out of this

TOMMY THANKING RANBOO FOR STICKING UP FOR HIM.... ALLIUMDUO REAL

c!tommy has nightmares about wilbur, huh. interesting interesting interesting interesting

"i knew that if tubbo was president... it would pull us apart, ranboo." IMAGE OF A CAT CRYING HERE

ranboo and connor's first meeting being tommy getting ranboo to help him evict connor from his house hsksbskdjsk

connor: "never trust a british man. that's what my parents taught me, in the 1800s." IMMORTAL CONNOR HAS ALWAYS BEEN REAL WE WERE ALL SO BLIND

LITTLE PENIS LAND

FJDKDHDK JACK APPEARING TO ADVERTISE MANIFOLD LAND

"hey jack you've actually just been exiled from this land here" "no" I FORGOT HOW FUNNY THESE TWO WERE

monkaS

tommy: i've never seen dream that angry.

ranboo: well, this is the first time i've actually ever heard him speak

tommy: oh

OH MY GOD WAS THIS THE DAY THAT TUBBO MADE THE JOKE ABOUT C!WILBUR BEING DEAD TO FUNDY AND HE ENDED STREAM AND LEFT BAHAHAHA

"this is a very wide taco stand" i love dream smp lore

"i don't wanna go. there is no wilbur anymore. i'm on my own. i don't want to be on my own." OK NEVERMIND GO BACK TO THE TACO STAND LORE

wow ok that really was just IT, huh. what the hell man that was heartbreaking

in conclusion. ouch

#dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #THIS TOOK A WHILE TO WRITE SO IM ADDING TAGS OK

123 notes · View notes

cutegirlmayra · 3 years

Note

Here's a prompt idea: Eggmans latest device accidentally turns Amy back into Rosy. But to the Rosy before she met Sonic and the others so she has no memory of her friends and is pretty scared and runs off. So Sonic has to slowly regain her trust and friendship and is reminded why he's glad to have her around as a friend. Just some sweet fluff (eeeeeeeee! I love da fluffy)

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, DO NOT SEND ME A REQUEST. I have too many, please follow the rules of the blog and wait for a grand announcement T-T I also want to focus on Fanfiction for a little bit so please, please have mercy on my soul \(TD\T)

(This art is owned to (x) Please support the original artist! - found through google.)

Pajama Blogs Ep.1 - Timestamp 1:01:06 (x)

Prompt:

In the thick of the battle, where Eggman has once again blurred the lines of time and stolen two Chaos Emeralds that have been locked into place by a case of glass on either side of his raygun, the team desperately try to avoid getting zapped into another dimensional self or even a past form.

"Wo-hohoho!" Eggman's infamous laugh triggered the large jumping moment of his stomach before he peered down at what he considered the squabbling, pint-sized forms of his nemeses. He beamed a grin of mischief and looked to the blue streak that had foiled every carefully laid out plan since... well... the dawn of his reign of terror upon this world.

"Not this time..., Sonic!" he reared the gun skyward, showing the effort as it jostled the machine a moment as he had implanted the device onto his Egg-mobile, "This time, I'm going back to before you were ever the hero! Back when you a slobbery, good for nothing, vulnerable little child!"

Sonic looked up to see what he was talking about, the device's nozzle being adjusted like a temperature or safe-lock setting, and being too far away to gauge what the actions meant, he just braced himself and ran forward. "Come on!" he called to his friends, Tails, Knuckles, and-

"Sonic! I'm coming too!" Amy rushed out behind the three, as Knuckles and Tails turned around from flying and gliding in the sky by Sonic to see her.

"W-what? Amy? When did you get here?" Sonic looked over his shoulder, but as he did so, Amy looked up and saw Eggman smirking, finally getting the bulky, heavy gun angled down and flipped two switches that started making the device glow and charge up.

"Look out!" Amy threw her hammer to Sonic, who tossed it to the side with a spinning kick.

"W-what?" He didn't understand before turning to see the beam and skidding to a halt. His eyes were overwhelmed with the bright color of neon red before Amy expertly jumped and twirled through the air in an acrobatic-like maneuver.

Seeing this, Eggman's face dropped from his insane joy to one of disappointment and surprise as she narrowly summoned another hammer and it intercepted the beam.

Lightly tapping the edge of it, the beam suddenly bent and 'flipped a U-ie' and looped itself back to sparking and hitting her hammer. Since her hand was attached, it sparked and moved to consume her frame in seconds within the bright red light, before she fell down to the ground, her silhouette showing her head coming up as she was trying to push off the ground... The hammer fell with a few flops before shrinking in size and turning into a typical Japanese hammer toy for toddlers.

Tails looked up to Eggman who grumbled and moved the gun, looking down off the side of his Egg-Mobile, as though not sure if his device was really going to succeed or not, but curious what it may do.

"Amy's younger than Sonic... if he put a date in that's too far back..." Tails's eyes shook as he felt his body pulse back in shock at that thought... "No..." his eyes arched and he looked down to Amy, flying as fast as his twin-tails could take him. "Ammmyy!!!" he called out.

With Tails's added cry, Sonic's eyes stopped shaking and he blinked back into the reality of the situation. He also ran to her as Knuckles glided down from hovering in the air to be in front of Amy, glaring up at Eggman to keep an eye on him while Tails and Sonic went to Amy's side.

Tails fell by her but as Sonic went to reach out for her, grabbed his reaching arm with both hands, pulling it away, "No, wait, don't-!" he warned, "The ray traveled from her hammer to her body, it's probably still able to. I bet it's transferable with touch, did you see the way it looped back after Amy tipped its line's edge with her hammer?"

Sonic looked to Tails, then Amy, seeing the shadow of her looked as though struggling to rise up, possibly... was she in pain?

"You expect me to do nothing? Tails, I can't just... sit here and watch!" Sonic used his hands to express himself, turning them up to their palms and bouncing them a bit with the gravity of his words reflecting his heart. He looked with arching eyes back to Amy, who slowly began to shrink as her voiced struggles turned more and more higher in pitch... until...

The light blasted off, as though a paper-wrap being torn and blown up and then...

Tails and Sonic peered over the fabric of red, then Eggman continued to lean with a mouth forming a curious, small 'o' before having to grab the other end of his tilting Egg-Mobile just to stabilize himself and not fall over. Due to the size of the raygun attached to its front, the weight balance wasn't good, and as the gun's tip slid with the weight Eggman was leaning on--it almost flipped fully over!

His leg came up to counterweight it, but why am I spending so much time describing this funny scene when I'm clearly breaking up the tension of what happened to Amy Rose?

"Amy..?" As the sparks were gone, Tails finally let go of Sonic's hand.

It was the free then to reach out and lightly grip the edge of the now large dress, and slowly draped it to the side as it gently skimmed over light pink quills.

It was a small ball, almost the size of a melon, before it softly stuck out a long, protruding nose.

Tails's and Sonic's eyes widened, not having seen that since... well, before she hit puberty.

"Is she..?" Sonic began, looking to Tails before the little creature yawned and stuck out a hand, patting the ground and sniffing, before finding the edge of the dress again and grunting in annoyance at someone removing its blanket.

It found it and kept trying to toss the warm, lightweight fabric ontop of itself, again, pulling its long nose and pointed muzzle back into its curled ball and bringing its hand back under as well.

Eggman flew around at all sides, trying to see over and past the two heads but Knuckles kept on him and zipped to every direction he tried to look as well, "Oh, no you don't!"

He was growing irritated, taking the gun and bopping it to spark it to life again, charging. He figured, if it did work, might as well fire on the rest of them!

"We're gonna have to start up a nursery." Orbot was looking through large, exaggerated, almost like a space telescope with a small, looking-glass end for his eyes to peer through binoculars back at Eggman's HQ.

His view showed Tails carefully wrapping the large dress over the small, trying to sleep child and looking to see the hammer. He picked it up and placed it on top of the now wrapped dressed over the curled baby hedgehog and shrugged to Sonic, not sure how he was going to reverse this.

Sonic's anger was now full, he turned with a shaking fist, squinting in his fierce sense of justice up to Eggman who continued to bonk, kick, and jostle the gun to get it up and going before looking down to see Sonic's fury. "Eggman!"

He winced, his mustache drooping at his tone.

He lifted a foot back up to the rim of his Egg-mobile, "It's... grk... jammed!" he suddenly was flung back as the gun went crazy and shot everything in random directions.

The ray hit a flower and turned it into a sapling, a great oak to a sprouting twig, and a Butterfly passing through into a Caterpillar...

"Well, at least I know it works. Oh no!!" His glasses 'tink'ed down slightly as the gun rotated up and then fell as though backwards... facing Eggman.

Orbot screeched through his vocal box, "Doctor!!!!"

After a ray of light, Tails walked up the hill with Eggman carrying the large Egg-Mobile and raygun attached to it on his shoulders and half his back. The two looked back as though waiting for Sonic to drop the young Eggman off at his base for Orbot and Cubot to deal with. Unfortunately, they begged Sonic to help them, and he conceded as he raced back with Cubot and Orbot under his armpits--since they were just a small iron bar for a body anyway--and a toddler Eggman whacking the side of Sonic's face and laughing. He was still bald, but no mustache.

The three headed to Tails's lab, Vanilla and Cream trying to take care of the two with Orbot and Cubot who were like rattles in his grip. "H-Help!" Cream approached, leaving Vanilla to finish clothing Amy in her old attire.

"There!" Vanilla pulled down the iconic, puffy green shirt as the little girl looked it over. "Hmm, ain't that wonderful? Looks like you kept your old clothes, boxed up in a storage part of your closet. It was titled 'Future Family', isn't that sweet? Like hand-me-downs." she cupped her face as though that was so sweet, but when she looked down, Amy was gone. "Oh!" she immediately covered her mouth and started looking around, "Amy? Amy, dear..?"

"Now, Mr... uhh... I guess you're just Eggchild now, huh?" Cream went to pick up Eggman who kicked and squirmed in her grasp. "Momma?" She saw her mother frantically lifting up pillows on the couch, as though she lost something and gently put them down with a sigh.

"Where could she have gotten off to so quickly?"

Back in Tails's workshop, the door creaked open a bit as Amy stumbled in and hid in the scrap metal, not sure who these people were, but listening to them as they spoke.

"Apparently, my theory was false." Tails began, turning to Sonic and Knuckles, who had his arms folded while Sonic's was relaxed by his sides.

He was trying to remain calm, after all, the two little things were in Vanilla and Cream's care. He was resting easy for now, hoping to get this solved soon.

Tails showed the dial on the raygun, pointing to it as he had dislodged it from on Eggman's Egg-Mobile, "These aren't dates or times, they're molecular ages..." he explained, then looked up at Sonic, "In other words, based on whatever stage of life it's set to, anything hit with this thing will turn into that form during that cycle of its life."

"But... then why doesn't Eggman seem to remember anything?" Sonic gestured a hand out.

"Yeah, we asked him, and even then... he's not talking." Knuckles frowned, but Sonic shook his head and put a hand on his shoulder, making him look at him funny.

"Knuckles, Knuckles, Knuckles... he's not old enough to talk yet." Sonic teased, patting his shoulder a second before smirking at him, "However, if his mind was the same, he'd certainly have acted angry, right?"

"Exactly," Tails nodded, as the two turned their attention back to him, but Knuckles growled in annoyance at Sonic's slight belittlement of his statement. "It's still got the Chaos Emeralds, wielders that manipulate time and space attached to it." He turned their sights back to the dial, "Which means..."

"It's taking them back to that time, too. Not just their body." Knuckles finished for him.

As though not expecting his intelligence, Sonic and Tails turned to look at him stunned, and Knuckles looked back at each of them, "What!?" he exclaimed, unfolding his arms to have them gesture angrily out at them, "I'm not stupid! I can connect the dots!"

Amy didn't quite understand what these older kids were saying, but had to find a way out of here.

She looked around and found the garage switch! That should open the door and get her out of here with these weirdos!

Even though... of the weirdos...

She looked to Sonic, her eyes slightly shining.

Was pretty handsome...

"So, that's good news, right?" Sonic spoke up, "If we can just turn that thing in the right way, we should be able to get Amy and Eggman back to their normal ages, right?"

"A simple fix." Tails nodded, "Better than most outcomes, haha!" he then looked to the symbols. "Thing is..."

Knuckles and Sonic leaned in, waiting for Tails to finish as he lowered his head.

"I... can't tell what Eggman's code for figuring out the placement means..."

Sonic put his hands on his hips and leaned forward as Knuckles arched his back and face-palmed himself.

Everyone just kinda sighed or groaned.

"Great! We gotta go through trial and error?!" Knuckles spat out. "How long will that take?"

"And more importantly," Sonic walked up to Tails, standing beside him, "Is it safe?" He angled his head in a tilt back, as Tails shook his head.

"We shouldn't try it on Eggman or Amy just yet. Give me some time, I should have it figured out in a jiffy." Tails responded light-heartedly, still showing it was possible and not too terribly difficult, but Knuckles threw up his fists.

"Time!? How long do you expect us to babysit these-!?" Before he could finish his sentence, Sonic gasped and pointed to tiny fingers reaching for the Garage door's button.

"Look!" he cried out, as the three turned and Amy flinched, jumping into a spin to lightly tap the button and scoot under the rising door. "H-hey!" Sonic dived and reached out for Amy, but she was quick and small, meaning he got trapped by the rising door and had to wait to scoot under it. "Darn," He smiled, finding this kinda fun. "Hey! wait! Don't get hurt!" he called out, which stopped the fleeing Rosy girl, who turned back and put her hands over the other and up by her chest, surprised that... anyone would care about her like that.

Who were these people?

Sonic, crawling out to where his torso was at least through the slit, smiled kindly to her with eyes that showed only care and... even a bit of playfulness.

She narrowed her eyes... that was strange, but she blushed and took off again.

Sonic closed his eyes and let out a chuckle, getting up on his knee as the door slowly... but surely began to rise up enough for him to fully stand. "I'll take care of our little rascal, Tails. You just get that machine decoded." He flung back a thumbs up, and Tails nodded.

"Leave it to me!" he seemed determined.

"H-hey, what, are you saying I have to look after Eggman?!" Knuckles stomped the ground as he stepped back, flabbergasted by what this might entail for him...

Tails just looked to him and laughed, "Vanilla and Cream have Orbot and Cubot to help them out, why don't you go with Sonic? She's a slippery one, he might need all the help he can get!"

"I can handle her on my own," Sonic folded his arms, not even looking to see where Amy had run off too, a bit overconfident. "It's just one hedgehog, and you're forgetting something." he winked, holding up a pointer finger and wiggling it with a shake of his head. "I'm irresistible!"

Knuckles scoffed as Tails placed the raygun down and covered his mouth as he chuckled.

"Yeah, well... how much trouble can a little girl get into, yeah?" Knuckles drooped his arms a little, hunching his back as he walked towards Sonic. "It's better than whatever I'd have to do wiping Eggman's butt!"

"He's not that young." Sonic lowered his eyelids and tilted his head, putting his hands on his hips and then raising an eyebrow, "You... do know the different development stages... right?"

Knuckles flinched, "How am I supposed to know anything about babies!?"

"Toddlers." Tails corrected, "And they can be quite intelligent. They use mimicry to learn and grow. They're always watching." Tails held up a finger, as though instructing Knuckles, "You two be on your best behavior. Who knows, if we change Amy back, she might have picked up a behavior or two from you." He shrugged, making Knuckles wince as Sonic winked secretly to Tails, in on the prank.

"Yeah, Knuckles," He put an arm around him, making him even more uncomfortable, "You'll have to be the outstanding role model for Amy from now on, until Tails figures out the dial settings, anyway." he grinned, totally fooling and freaking out Knuckles, which he was gullible enough to believe.

"Oh, man... I-I-I don't know how to be one of those!" he worriedly admitted out loud.

"Don't you worry, buddy, I'll show you the ropes, no problem!" he gestured out a cocky shrug, "It's easy! Just remember your typical moral code and be sensitive to the child's needs! Nothing to it!" he gave him his signature thumbs up and wink before dashing off, "See ya, Tails! I'm off to find Amy!"

"Don't play too much..." Tails mumbled, but Sonic was already gone. He looked to Knuckles, chuckling as he held a hand over his stomach for a moment with the action. "It's okay, Knuckles. Just... entertain her for a bit until I can figure this out. It shouldn't be too difficult, just like Sonic said, it's all about being on your best behavior." he closed his eyes and shook his finger as though that's all that was required.

Knuckles mimicked the action, holding his own finger up, "Be on your best behavior... got it!" he waddled off, keeping the finger out, "Best behavior... just be on your best behavior..!"

Tails, flying over to make sure Knuckles was gone... suddenly burst out laughing.

Sonic stopped to look behind him and see that Knuckles was a fair distance away, then smirked again, "Heh, now that he's out of the way... Hmm..." he put a hand up over his eyes to block the sun, looking happily over the area to find a speck of pink. "Now... if I was a confused little hedgehog... where would I be hiding..?" he found a patch of long-leaf, bushy plants that were moving near the jungle. "Ah-ha!" he took off as Knuckles called out to him.

"H-hey! Wait for me!!! Ohhh, Soniiiccc!!" Knuckles picked up the pace, "Man, I gotta make a good first impression, don't I? Am I... intimidating? Amy's probably never seen an Echidna before if she's a toddler again, yeah? Oh man... I'm gonna suck at this!" he hurried up the hill to catch Sonic, as he slowed down and started to fake wandering through the brush.

He stuck out a foot and felt the ground out, putting his hands behind his head, "Huh? Now,... where, oh, where could that darling little hedgehog be?" He teased, putting his hands down and by his hips, facing his back to where he could clearly see and hear her moving through the bushes, crawling to try and get away and stay silent.

But she was anything but stealthy. He looked over his shoulder and chuckled, then dramatically began his performance. "Oh shucks, I really thought we could hit it off and be friends, too." He put a hand up to his forehead, speaking loudly. "I guess she doesn't like me... how sad, I think I might... be alone..." he faked a sniff, putting his hand down to his chest, "For the rest of my days... Poor, old Sonic." He shrugged and shook his head out, then smirked and narrowed his eyes behind him when he heard the shuffling stop.

'Got'cha.' he let the smirk reach the corner of his muzzle, 'Your bleeding heart is still too good to pass up someone who you feel is in need. No matter what age you are, you're still a bit of a saint.' he flopped down to be more at her level, but acted as though he was whining and complaining, "Ohhh!!!! What ever will I do!" he lifted his head to call up... then opened an eye to see if she was coming.

Just as planned, a tiny little hand gripped the back of one of his two spikes on his back.

He smiled kindly and looked back to her with great care to not seem threatening, "Well, hello there." he suddenly saw her look up and blush, then take off. "Huh? Hey, wait, where are you going?" He didn't bother to reach for her, just watched her.

"Ah, faking shy, eh?" He gave her a fond look, before Knuckles tumbled down to the ground with a bent and twisted body, looking completely out of his element in his worry of having to re-introduce himself to Amy... as a kid. "You're really banged up about this, aren't you?" Sonic teased, seeing his apparent struggle.

Knuckles got up and rubbed his head, on his hands and knees now, "Shut up..!" he countered, "Besides, what makes you so chill about meeting Amy again at this age? Aren't you a bit concerned she won't like you like she does now? O-or did now, o-or..." As he tried to figure out the tense, Sonic just rolled his eyes up and started crawling on the ground towards where Amy scampered off to. "Hey! Quit leaving me behind!!" Knuckles shouted out as Sonic lifted a foot up and tapped his mouth shut.

"Quiet, will ya? You'll scare her off." Sonic watched as Knuckles blinked, then nodded as Sonic removed his foot, "You really have never talked to a girl before... have you?"

"What's that supposed to mean!?" His anger spiked, but he was shouting in a whisper now, his fist up by Sonic and his teeth now pointed, eyes white in fury, and insulted with an anger mark showing through. "I was alone on an island my entire life! What's your excuse!?"

"I grew up around orphans..." Sonic muttered, looking around casually with his eyes for any sign of movement of where she might be.

"H-huh..? You did?" Knuckles blinked his eyes again, amazed.

"Yeah, you guys." Sonic teased, smiling back at Knuckles. "Tails, Amy... I was always being admired by those younger than me... it made me appreciate people like you and Eggman." he turned with a mischievous look in his face to Knuckles, pulling an eyelid down and sticking his tongue out, "I never had to be anything for you two."

"Why you..." Knuckles twitched an eyebrow in annoyance, but Sonic then lifted up a pointer finger, reminding Knuckles of what Tails had said.

"Just remember, tender love and care." He then grinned a beaming smile as though this was fun for him, and trekked back through the foliage as Knuckles held up his own finger again, repeating.

"Be on your best behavior... Tender love and care... got it... Ah! Hey! You're going off without me again!" he crawled after Sonic... but really, he was just following his lead.

Amy flopped a few long, dangling leafs off of her as she finally made it through the jungle floor's flora and looked up at the giant temples and structures before her.

She had never seen anything so massive and brilliant, tall and imposing... she looked behind her to hear Knuckles bumping into Sonic, and him telling him to 'watch it' and realized that those two strange boys were still after her.

She puffed up a cheek, 'Don't they ever give up!?'

She took off towards the steps of the temple before shying back and growing scared... one wrong move... and she could slip and fall all the way down the steps...

She rubbed her head with both hands, already scared of that possibility before gasping as Knuckles and Sonic came out of the bush.

"Huh? There you are!" Sonic called, very friendly, "Hey, where ya going?"

She immediately shivered, what did these men want with her..?

Sonic saw this... and immediately lost the nature.

He got up, "Hey, we're not here to harm you." he lifted his hands out to show her that it was okay, to not get worked up and calm down.

She scooted away, looking back up the structure and then to Sonic and Knuckles.

Sonic's eyes bent sweetly, "There, see? We can just talk and play, alright? We're not as scary as you may think-"

Knuckles bulldozed out and knocked Sonic down, the two tumbling as Sonic flailed a bit in the tangled wrestle of sorts, Knuckles having vines all over him.

"Ahhh!! It's a snake, get it off of me!" it clearly wasn't...

Amy was freaked out and all of Sonic's 'calming' energy escaped her and was pointless as she started the climb up the temple.

"Oh no!" Sonic pushed Knuckles off of him as he kept 'fighting' the vines he thought were snakes. "Amy!" he called out.

She paused... looking back at him, she wondered how he knew her name.

He raced over to her and held out his arms, "Amy, jump down, you'll get hurt!" he reached out further, showing how sincere he was. "Amy..." His eyes carried a look as though he wanted to protect her...

Her own eyes sparkled and shook... someone... someone truly wanted to be there for her?

Her hand moved a little off the next step she was going to climb, as though to trust that Sonic would catch her, but then...

"Got it! Haha! Take that, snakes!" Knuckles flopped the snakes off of him and then looked to see her on the temple steps, "GAHH!!! My ancestorial shrines!!!" He gripped his hands to his cheeks, then ran over and held up a fist, looking stern and fierce in his face as his brow was sharp and angled down. "Get off of there, you're far too small to be climbing that!" he shouted, as Sonic scolded him immediately and narrowed his eyes to him.

"Knuckles!"

"What!? .... ohhh..." Knuckles lowered his fist and loosened the features on his countenance. "Eh-heh... too much?" Some awkward sweat at knowing he had made a mistake dripped down the side of his face as Amy kept climbing. "Gahhh!!! She's gonna fall!" Knuckles worried, before jumping up and hitting his spikes on his fists to the temple's wall, hurriedly climbing up that way, "Ura-ura-urah!" he was like a red stream train that terrified her.

"Knuckles, stop it! You're scaring her!" he was making it worse, so Sonic scaled up the temple after him, running along side where he was drilling his fist in to keep scaling the large structure, "What happened to 'best behavior' and 'tender love and care'?" Sonic quipped back, but Knuckles just tsk'ed.

"You think your way is working any good? Pfft! She hasn't come to you yet, either!"

Sonic frowned, tilting his head as though he had something to prove now.

"Fine." He dashed up in front of Knuckles to stop him from climbing as ancient dust sprayed onto his face, making him cough and stop fully in his tracks.

"Hey!" he hacked, "Grr... what was that all about?" He didn't seem to understand... Sonic's gentleness towards the situation.

Amy kept climbing, her whole body having to pull itself up over each step before she looked down and panicked, seeing how high she had already gotten and the cold chill of the atmosphere that made her flinch back and cling to the stony, yet smoothened over through time steps.

She closed her eyes... and then... a hand reached out to her.

"Amy..?"

She blinked her eyes opened and looked up, amazed to see Sonic had made it to the steps above her and was reaching down, that same care in his eyes...

'This handsome boy... what does he want with little old me?'

"It's gonna be okay, Amy." Sonic's voice seemed to raise the rising heat on her cheeks. "You're gonna be alright, just hang on. Take my hand, I know it's scary, but you don't have to go back down alone. I'm here now, and I won't let you go. I promise."

His words... the expression on his face...

Every bit of her wanted to trust him.

Her mouth opened and then closed, her head turned away and her eyes shut as well. "I..." she could barely speak in her fear, "I can't."

His eyes blinked and lightened up a bit in curiosity, "Why not, Amy?" He was still being supportive, just wanting understanding.

"You..." she shivered... was she still afraid of him?

"You'll fall, too."

It was moments like these that melted away whatever cool guy attitude or ego Sonic thought he had. His eyes bent in absolute consideration for her... even in her own fears, she always thought of others and was more worried about pulling him down with her than her own safety.

"That's what I've always admired the most about you, Amy." He beamed a smile that when she looked to it, was like the very sun on top of the ancient ruins... like a sun god.

"Even in such a tiny body... your heart is as huge as can be."

With that, she went to take his hand... but then there was a tremor.

"W-woah-woah!" Sonic held on as only a foot and a hand was now on the steps above her, and her little body was being tossed about a bit, desperately trying to hold on. "Knuckles!" Sonic cried out, as Knuckles was charging from below, finally grabbing her ankle.

"Got her!" Knuckles grinned and snickered somewhat, "Hehehe, now you can't get away. You grab her from above and we'll glide down, Sonic!" He shouted out, making Amy flinch as she started hitting his head down.

"No, no, no!" she cried out, tears on the corners of her eyes, "Bad man, bad man!"

"B-bad man!?" Knuckles, getting repeatedly stomped on, looked confused, "We're trying to save you!"

"She means you, Knuckles!" Sonic gritted his teeth, "You have no tact, man!"

"Screw that! What does a tack have to do with this!?" He didn't seem to understand the term...

Sonic shook his head, then allowed himself to fall a bit down before catching himself again, kicking Knuckles with Amy as she watched a protective and caring arm go around her waist. "Get off, you brute! You're horrible with kids!"

"Brute!?" Knuckles was suddenly kicked down and fell, "AHH!!!!" he glided and looped around to another part of the wall. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?!?"

"Tsk, some heroic first impression, huh?" Sonic sarcastically stated,... as Amy's eyes began to fall in love with this strange blue hedgehog...

He helped her kick the bad man down...

He held her but wasn't trying to rip her off the stony mountain building...

"Who..." she softly let out, her little, high-pitched voice so cute as Sonic looked to her.

"Hmm?" he waited, still and comforting, for her to finish her question.

"Who are you, mister?" Her sweetness also came with some bitter aftertaste to him... as his eyes bent... wishing she knew all the history they had together...

His mind wandered to dates where he would carry her shopping list, and how she would spin around and give a cheery open-smile to him... "My hero!" she would chime out.

His eyes danced in those memories... barely remembering her as Rosy the Rascal, but mostly... as Amy Rose.

He smiled and closed his eyes, 'heh'ing as he then opened one and gave her a charming smile. "I'm Sonic!" he put a bit of gusto into it, "I'm Sonic The Hedgehog!"

"Hold her still!" Tails's voice suddenly flew into earshot as Sonic broke out of his dynamic introduction and looked down to see Tails flying up in a spiral. "Herrrree I goooo~" he lugged the heavy raygun up all the way and then fired it towards Amy.

The next day, Amy was knitting something on her porch, tapping her toes against the wooden porch before sighing and looking to the sky...

"...I was always on my own, then... longing for someone sweep me off my feet... I had no idea... that what I really needed was..." She paused when her hair flew to the side and she covered some of her face from the wind, then smiled as Sonic had raced by.

Her smile rose and she giggled, leaning forward and getting up off the step to grip a beam and lean her head lovingly into it.

"Was someone to believe in me... And support my adventures... no matter what."

And she was happy.

#sonamy tag #sonamy #cutegirlmayra #sonicxamy #amy rose #classic amy rose #rosy the rascal #sonic the hedgehog #sonamy prompt #me writing #me prompts

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pathofcomet · 3 years

Text

look at what you taught me

fandom: bridgerton series

pairing: colin/penelope

summary: Colin and Penelope have never been awkward with one another. Except for this one time. (AO3) (book spoiler ahead)

In the beginning, when he travels, Colin can think of nothing else but the present moment: a ship under his feet, the lull of a carriage, the wide expanse of the world all around him. Whatever destination is coming next, if he is certain enough – if not, he’ll just make it up as he goes. The furious scribbling of his quill against paper, as he races to put down in words all his eyes take not but a second to admire. It feels like everything he never knew he wanted to do so desperately. It feels right.

Then, it becomes more difficult to return home, the more he travels. But soon enough, the travel starts to wear him down. He begins to look forward to when he’ll return home: despite his own mother’s incessant remarks, despite the brotherly arguments, despite having to see another sister married off. Even the most loving mamas trying to marry off their daughters to him seem somewhat adorable, if he is gone long enough. But the need to travel comes back, like an itch that won’t go away unless he scratches it away. He makes promises to his sisters – so that he can stay as much as possible, but he goes insane with anything more than a couple of months. He likes to believe that by now his family simply made peace with his many eccentricities, and simply paid the cook more when he was around.

He treasures the pockets of familiarity he gets when in London as much as the breathes of fresh air he gets when he’s away. He imagines he drives his mother wild, with all his coming and going across the continent. He knows what Lady Whistledown writes about him as well, and he’d strangle the woman himself, for alerting everyone of his return so punctually. Ambitious mamas are hard to fend off when you’re a young man, and it only gets worse the older he becomes, because the expectation of marriage dawns ever closer.

***

“You must agree, Colin,” his mother says, and at the mention of his name, he straightens in his chair, because it’s a terrible thing to be singled out in a conversation by Violet. “Penelope is quite an agreeable young lady.”

Colin agrees, both because he truly believes so, and because while his mother doesn’t need his confirmation, she’s kinder when she has it. Benedict, from the other side of the room, leans closer in his chair, so he can hear better whatever commentary their dear mother is about to impart with them.

“I dare say she’d make quite a suitable bride for you, really.”

All hell breaks loose. Benedict drops his foot to the floor with a loud thud, while Colin drops his sandwich, eliciting a swear for which he’s reprimanded by three of his sisters. And then.

“Mother!” Eloise shrieks, quite offended – which Colin finds surprising, considering that the two of them are best friends. “That is entirely too daring!”

Colin agrees, but he is too busy desperately trying to cough away the piece of sandwich stuck in his throat. Eloise, though still quite shocked, pushes her cup of tea in his hands, just to get him to make less noise. He downs it in one go, grateful to not have died of this particular cause. His heart, quite in override still, might provoke a heart attack soon enough if his mother does not change the subject.

“I believe you misremember your ABCs, dear mother,” he jests, because he does not want to take the idea seriously. “There’s one son for whom you haven’t found a bride quite yet.”

Benedict shifts in his seat, suddenly finding his newspaper way more interesting. But this time around, Violet doesn’t rise to the so delicious bait of teasing her second, not when her brain is so set on match-making her third.

“I don’t see why not. Isn’t she a friend to all of us?”

She stops, waits for a nod from each one of her children currently engaged in eaves-dropping on the topic.

“She’s polite, witty,” she continues listing reason after reason, all to which Colin is entirely familiar and now that he thinks about, has noticed himself, several times over, in Penelope. “And quite darling.”

He imagines darling is what girls who aren’t called beautiful get stuck with by kind mothers. He never actually stopped to even consider Penelope in any of these ways: she’s always been there, ever since he was in short pants – and that’s almost already half their lives. A fixed presence by the side of his younger sister, and a favourite of his mother, despite all the awkward wallflower tendencies in Penelope. But he doesn’t recall ever trying to pick apart her character, find her individual traits, even consider her as a… woman.

Colin is suddenly shamed by his wilful, manly indifference. Violet arches her eyebrow at him, clearly still expecting an answer.

“Mother,” he adds with a sigh. “I can promise you most certainly that I am not marrying any time soon.”

“One never knows,” she murmurs, though she allows him his momentary peace, and returns to her embroidery.

***

Only that his mother doesn’t stop with her comments, and they seem to grow in number each time she meets Penelope, which unfortunate for him, is often enough. The next morning, as she returns from shopping, she comments on how nice she looked in a dress of her own picking, and not her mother’s own distasteful choices. Each time any married sibling sends a letter, or comes visit, her efforts in getting Colin to marry are reinforced. She jabs at him with comments: morning, afternoon and evening.

And suddenly, Colin can find that there’s nothing else much that he can think about, but Penelope, and how exactly this insane idea came to live in his mother’s mind. So he starts paying attention.

He supposes parties would be generally more enjoyable if he didn’t have to attend them with his family, as much as he loves them. He can physically feel Violet’s eyes drawing across the room, and then settling, decisively, on his back, a list of eligible ladies for marriage already compiled in her mind, alongside one for dancing partners. Colin can already guess what her mother is about to tell him.

And he is right. She pokes at his elbow with her fan, nodding to the edge of the ballroom, where Penelope Featheringston stands, card empty and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. Well, at least they do have that in common.

“Colin, darling,” and really, that’s all that Mrs. Bridgerton has to say to any of her children for them to do her bidding.

He makes his way across the room, trying his best to avoid getting roped into introductions by mothers or old friends alike. The faster he’s getting this over with, the faster he can return to the appetizers, and to a reconnaissance of the room of his own.

“Pen,” he says, and she startles, turning around to him with the widest of eyes, and the shyest of smiles. Huh, maybe she does look quite darling.

“Colin!” she exclaims, smoothing down a hand over her dress, and while it’s a gesture driven by nerves, it looks quite adorable.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?”

He extends out his arm, which she takes – an answer without needing one. And it’s quite a shame, to all the other men in the room, because Penelope is a wonderful dancer, and a most attentive conversationalist during them. She asks him of his most recent travels, destination known through the letters he sent to Eloise, most likely. He’s received his fair share of foot stepping and the occasional elbow in his side, but never with Penelope.

She animates with each step, blushing at his hand around her back, smiling at a spin. He never considered how soft her body feels under his fingers, underneath the thin material of her dress, but now he is acutely aware of her warmth seeping through. He asks of the books she’s been reading, which he knows are plenty.

And at the end of the dance, he finds that maybe dancing with Penelope Featherington is not such a tedious task, after all. And at the end of the night, he’s quite certain she’s been his best partner.

***

Art exhibitions are not really Colin’s thing, really. His interest lays in a world painted in words, not in colours. But considering the fact that one of Benedict’s pieces is to be exposed to the world for the first time, of course his entire family must be present. He is proud of his brother, for having found a path in life, having chased it so full of determination.

Colin’s good at chasing as well. He’s just been proven, more and more lately, that he chases only things that cannot last, which displeases him greatly. It doesn’t mean he is not entirely supportive of his older brother. What other reason he’d have to be present here, at all?

“Penelope!” Eloise shouts, gathering the attention of her friend.

Penelope spins around, red curls jumping with the movement, and she blushes. Colin is pretty sure she’s done this every single time he’s seen her, though maybe he now begins to understand why. She nods her head in their direction, all Bridgertons replying in kind. Eloise lets go of his arm, rushing instead by her best friend’s side, hands entangled in a most obvious display of friendship and affection.

Colin knows Penelope’s family – and so he knows there’s no such camaraderie between her and her sisters, as it can be so easily observed between himself and his own siblings. He’s glad these two have each other then: a friend is one’s most fearful champion.

He walks by his mother’s side, going through the gallery, the two girls just a few feet ahead. Eloise is the taller one, yet both their heads are bent together as they discuss, such an air of ease and comfort about them. His sister says something, and suddenly Penelope turns a bit more to the side, laughing: a sparkle of mischief in her eyes and the loveliest pull at her mouth. Now, Colin finds himself quite taken with her mouth, staring because he finds it impossible not to. The soft pink of her lips, as she’s worried at them trying to come up with a comment about this and that painting. The white of her teeth, as she smiles. Her tongue, wetting her lips, from time to time, as the rooms grow hotter, with all the people passing around.

He’s lucky that the art pieces all around are distracting enough that Penelope herself doesn’t notice. His mother does, though.

“Quite darling, no?”

And she looks at the exact same person that he is, and most certainly not at the painting of a fruit basket in front of them.

“Mother,” he warns, a slight squeeze around her arm.

“Oh,” she sighs. “You can’t blame me for caring enough to try.”

Maybe not. But he can blame her for opening his eyes to something that he, like everyone else – he begins to realize - didn’t really know was right there.

***

So Colin Bridgerton, like a true hero of his days, leaves for Wales. And like the caring gentleman that he also is, he uses one of his friends as his excuse. It helps – it’s quite a useful distraction, for a while, walking over the hills, staring out at the sea, spending evenings eating hearty meals with someone that knows him well enough, but not too much. And he writes in his journal, of his quiet passing days.

By contrast, the nights are not so quiet. While he tries so hard to forget the society back in London, at night there are no distractions: and even so, while asleep, he cannot really control his unconscious mind.

So Colin dreams: at first, the most innocent of shadows, people that he can vaguely make out. Then the visions get clearer, and longer, and more tormenting. It starts with Penelope’s smile, and that mouth of hers, which in a dream he can admit to wanting to desperately kiss. Which, in a dream, he has leave to do. He knows, upon waking, that whatever taste lingers on his tongue from his haze, it certainly has nothing on the reality, and hates himself all the more for it. Then her body, close to his, the press of her bosom hard against his chest, the roundness of her bottom in his palms. The next morning, he is in need of a change of bedsheets, like he is nothing but a horny teenager.

He is sure his mother must have cursed him. The dreams continue, sweet haunting that only makes the guilt rise in his throat. She’s his sister’s best friend, for heaven’s sake, and here he is, conjuring her up in his dreams with no respite! It’s like his body has decided to take an entirely different path from his mind.

Colin is miserable on a travel, for the first time in way too long.

***

Maybe that’s his excuse. He lacks sleep, and for him, the most pressing issue is, obviously, still the one of his marriage. Violet Bridgerton is popular for many things between her children, but her cutting words and sharp mind are not necessarily one of those, especially if used against one of them. Colin has found himself at the receiving end of exactly that for weeks and months now, so he is apprehensive when he is summoned back to London.

But if his mother has need of him, then he must make haste. Of course, the real reason is simply the news of Daphne’s new pregnancy, which is incredibly happy. Colin loves to be an uncle way better than he likes being a younger brother.

Especially since right now, Anthony and Benedict have taken the liberty to pick up with the teasing where their mother stopped.

“You left in the middle of the season,” Benedict remarks, and Anthony clasps his back in a way that only eldest brothers can do, when they require an immediate answer.

“Oh, very well,” and Colin actually scowls. “I needed to get away. Mother has been incessant with this bloody marriage thing.”

And because they’re his brothers, of course they joke and jest more, at his own expense. Everyone in their house knows that his mother has her eyes set on Penelope, and everyone in their house is already tired of her insinuations, Colin most of all. That doesn’t mean that Anthony, or Benedict are going to pass up the opportunity to rile him up on the subject. It’s been a while, after all, since they’ve had reason to laugh at him in particular.

It’s the damn lack of sleep, and all of these comments, which are entirely unwarranted and so overwhelming, despite his protests, that make him throw all decorum out the window.

“I am not going to marry soon, and I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington!”

“Oh!”

The softest sound, really – feminine and delicate and belonging to the single person that he didn’t want to see right this moment. With much slowness, burning red with shame, Colin turns around to look at Penelope Featherington. And he knows: by the expression on her face, the haggard breathing with the desperate rise and fall of her chest, and her eyes, that he just broke her heart.

What he says right there on the spot, he cannot truly recall. A fumbling of stupid, empty nothings, apology too small, too unfulfilling, because Penelope draws herself up and protects the little bit of her dignity left.

And she leaves, so fast that he doesn’t have the time to do what he wants: follow her to clear up things.

Benedict punches him in the arm, quite terribly hard. It still doesn’t feel as bad as the gut-wrenching guilt building up inside himself, or the self-loathe that he so much deserves. Because just as he was beginning to make up his mind regarding how dear, truly, she has grown to be for him, he has done the worst thing a person who cares about another can do: hurt her.

***

He shows up at the doorsteps of her house the following day, surprised to find Penelope alone in the drawing room.

“As you might suspect, Mr. Bridgerton,” she says, when he inquires after her mother and sisters. “Many men before you have made the same declaration, though maybe in more private settings. I am afraid any hope of marriage left in this household falls upon my sisters.”

It is the fact that she doesn’t use his name that stings the worst, and makes him understand exactly how much harm he’s done with his extremely horrifying comment.

“Penelope, I am so entirely sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. You must believe me when I say I did not mean to offend you in any way.”

“Must I?”

He stops, opens his mouth: no words come out. She looks the picture perfect of peace, and maybe this is what should worry him the most. It is his first time seeing her as more than a blushing young woman, and suddenly maybe he realizes why she is Eloise’s best friend: she’s made of tougher stuff than what he’s been led to believe so far.

“What I said, the way I’ve said it. I’ve hurt you… It’s entirely intolerable and I apologize for the situation you’ve been put in because of me being an ass.”

Situation that she handled entirely fine, given the fact that he so singled her out in a market of numerous others undesirable young ladies. She sighs at his curse, something that sounds like Colin, that has the tiniest of fondness in the tone. Something in his chest tightens with fondness of its own, for this woman in front of him, who has been nothing but a most beloved friend, to his entire family – and to him, as well.

“I…” she stops, taking in a deep breath, her hands shaking. “I already told you, no feelings were hurt. You’ve made no remark that wasn’t already obvious to everybody in the ton,” she says, and she waves in the air the latest number of Lady Whistledown.

Of course, even when he misses it, his sisters and his dear mama are quick to fill him up on the happenings of the season. In today’s fresh paper, Whistledown has written down that were the two of them ever to get married, she’d have to give up writing altogether – such an unfitting match never having been seen before.

“You can’t possibly believe those writings,” he says, suddenly offended at the paper, though he’s not quite certain on whose behalf anymore.

“I didn’t, until –”

Until he has reinforced them all the more, with his declaration. Colin suddenly feels himself flush from head to toes, at being so openly chastised. His brother Benedict has already told him, that he has cruelly overstepped most demands of polite society when he lost his temper in that way, in such a public place.

“I really do apologize, Penelope.”

He hadn’t realize how much he enjoys saying her name until now, when he so desperately wants her, needs her to say his own. A sign that things between them can be mended, move from the terrible awkwardness between them.

“Pity doesn’t feel that nice to those who already know how pitiful they are, Colin.” His gaze snaps up at her, and finds her already smiling at him – quite charming, even if so utterly self-depreciating. “Though you are forgiven.”

He bows at her in thanks, lower than he’s gone in months, if not years, just to show how entirely grateful he is. Of course, Colin is yet too young, rich, handsome and charismatic to know the meaning of her words, and too stupid of a man to try and understand where she is coming from.

But he will, in due time.

For now, maybe his favourite sight to see during his travels becomes the shores of England, when returning home. Because home has just started to mean just a tiny bit more.

#bridgerton #bridgerton series #colin/penelope #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton ff

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fa-headhoncho · 4 years

Text

Imagine Ron thinking you have a crush on a Malfoy

Masterlist

You stare at Ron, completely dumbfounded at his accusation. His face is red in anger and his chest heavily moving up and down. The weight of his words hangs in the air, waiting for a response. Draco for once, has nothing to say to the redhead either while Harry and Hermione shift awkwardly behind Ron.

Draco asked you to help him with his Transfiguring essay, telling you how he was struggling to understand the subject you guys were studying. It was a surprise, Draco’s pride never let him go to anyone for help, so you were glad to do so. Your nights have been occupied with tutoring Draco the last couple of days, sometimes even missing dinner since your schedules conflicted.

However, you didn’t think it would lead to this. You spotted the trio when the two of you walked in the library. You happily gave them a smile and a wave while Draco sneered. Hermione and Harry greeted you back while Ron didn’t. It made your heart pang a bit but you didn’t let it get to you. The cat and mouse game you and Ron have been playing has always left Ron unpredictable.

Unpredictable in the sense that things between you and Ron were, well, complicated. The two of you have been flirting since the start of this year, you’ve always had a little crush on him but something changed this year. This year was full of more... intense interactions between the two of you. You being the more obvious one, of course, but Ron had his moments. His shining one being replaying in your head.

The Gryffindors had an amazing win in Quidditch a day or so ago, causing a party in the common room. Fire whiskey and butterbeer passed around like wildfire. The liquid courage giving confidence to many. Like Ron Weasley. Harry and Hermione didn’t even realize the two of you disappeared until Hermione caught both of you trying to sneak through the passage well after the party.

Your loudmouth didn’t stay quiet once you were in the dorms with Hermione. Telling her almost every detail even if she didn’t want to hear it. Ron doing the same with Harry. But, ever since that night Ron has been acting particularly odd… which is what has caused his outburst.

“Draco? Really?” Ron’s scoff interrupted you and Draco’s study session. The two of your heads snapped up from his essay to the redhead. “I should’ve known you fancied him! You doodle his last name on every notebook you have,” He accused, “I’m sure he put you up to the sick game you’ve been playing with me. I actually thought we had something.”

You continue to stare at Ron, mouth wide open. His anger is obvious, and yours is starting to build as well. The fact he would dare to think you would be playing an awful game with him is an insult in itself. Especially with Draco Malfoy out of everyone, too.

“Are you that dimwitted?” You stand up, the chair you were sitting flies back. “You think I would actually play with your heart like that, Ronald Weasley?” Ron’s angered expression starts to soften a bit now that he’s the one being yelled at, especially since you used his full name.

“Well,” His stubbornness takes over, him regaining his confidence. “(Y/N) Malfoy has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

You have no words for him. How stupid can he be? You run your hands through your hair out of frustration. How has he not realized this sooner?

“Ron,” You say, scarily calm, “My last name is Malfoy.”

“You two already got married—”

“No, you knobhead,” You cut him off.

“Well, what is it then, huh?” He presses on, trying to hear what he’s already been thinking. How can he be this stubborn yet so stupid.

“Are you that mental, Weasley?” Draco finally cuts in, standing up as well. Ron’s fists immediately clench, ready for a fight. “I’ve always thought you had a bag of rocks up there but this just further proves my theory.” He mumbled, a small smirk on his face. He’s satisfied with his insult as he closes his essay and quill in his book. He then starts to walk away.

“Oh, you little—“ He jumps forward at the tall blonde but Harry grabs his arm.

“Ron,” Hermione immediately scolds as well.

“Can’t you guys see what’s going on?” He turns to his friends, completely hurt that they would hold him back. Out of years of friendship and the late nights where he would gush about you to them, they decided to hold him back.

“You really think I would go off and flirt with Draco after we--” You cut yourself off, Draco making a disgusted face at you. “You’re insane if you think that night meant nothing to me, Ronald.”

“Absolute nutter,” Are Draco’s last words before he completely walks away. This leaves the four of you. Ron shakes Harry off of him with a scowl on his face. He’s completely heart broken. No one is supporting him.

“You’re an idiot, Ronald.” Hermione tells him and drags Harry out of the library with her.

Ron watches his friends walk away, leaving you two alone in a row of the library. He feels as if the bookcases are closing in on him the more the two of you stand there. He’s not sure what he wants you to say anymore.

On the other hand, you��re completely fuming. How dare he accuse you of something so evil. Especially after the long years of chasing after each other. This year was the year you thought the two of you could finally get together. But, Ron has to be so overdramatic and temperamental sometimes.

“He’s my cousin, Ron.”

“What?”

“My last name is Malfoy, you nitwit.”

“I thought it was (Y/L/N).” He furrows his eyebrows, obviously not understanding.

“It’s hyphenated.” You explain. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)- Malfoy… his dad’s my uncle. I use the first one more often because of the reputation that side of the family has.” You carefully take a few steps closer to him, testing the waters. “I never told you because I like you, Ron. I didn’t want the bad blood to ruin what we have.”

Ron stands there, processing everything… then his cheeks light up again due to embarrassment. His embarrassment turns into happiness once he realizes what you said. You’re not in love with Draco Malfoy, your cousin, you liked him.

A large smile then appears onto his face, he brings you into a bone crushing hug. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, glad he finally used his brain. You melt into the hug as he whispers into your ear:

“I’m so stupid.”

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sunflowersteves · 3 years

Note

*flips chair over* but ya know what ship that is so rare, I mean practically in the background, getting no damn love? Peter Quill x Reader x Gamora. I saw like only two headcanons for that ship. And now it intrigues me so much. Sis, imagine??? I need a smutty and fluffy headcanon of those two? A warrior princess and a goofy starlord in love with you? Hot damn, I say, HOT DAMN. - buckybarnesplumwhore

gamora x peter quill x fem!reader

author’s note: okay you’re right and should say it louder. and we all know peter and gamora would not stand for such a homophobic ass. also sjsjsjsj im so sorry how late this is but i hope you like it, babe!!

warnings: fluff, some angst, smut, oral, fingering, threesome [18+ only]

babe imagine getting extremely jealous that gamora and peter are getting super close with each other

you had to watch Peter flirt with Gamora as he placed whatever human gadget on her ears

you had to watch Gamora as she so subtly stared at peter almost constantly and boy did it drive you utterly insane

but the thing was, you never noticed at how often they stared at you or how often they talked about wanting to feel your soft skin on theirs

you never noticed the little whispers every time a sun or moon would shine on you a certain way or peter would crack extra jokes just to so they could see you smile

that is, until you had caught gamora and peter making out in the back of the ship

they immediately detached from each other but relaxed when they saw it was you

“Want to join us?” peter smirked, watching you as your surprised expression turned into a sad one

you had thought he was just joking, one of the many things peter did that would normally made you smile but not when the two people you love the most in all of the galaxies were happy together

Gamora sensed your sorrow and jabbed peter in the rib, his mouth immediately closing

tears had already sprinkled across your eyes which made the gamora and peter’s heart clench.

you really thought that neither of them wanted you and that was so far from the truth

gamora slowly walks up to you and places her hands on your cheeks, pulling you in as her lips meet yours

Her hands grabbed your waist, the heat from her finger tips making you shudder in delight, your lips devouring one another as the passion rises beneath your beating heart

You then feel a pair of soft but slightly chapped lips attach themselves to your shoulder and slowly moving up to your neck

Peter groans into your neck at hearing your soft whimpers that cloud Gamora’s lips

Much to your distase, Gamora leaves her lips off of yours but her hands move up to your stomach and up your shirt, feeling your soft warm skin

Her hands move expertly up to the mounds of your breasts, a whine escapes your mouth from the sensual feelings

She carefully rolls your sensitive bud between her fingers, watching your expressions as you gape at the pleasurable feeling

“You’ve felt neglected, huh? Have we not been paying enough attention to you, sweet girl?”

You couldn’t even respond before Peter moves his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, teeth clashing and lips crushing as the wetness pools around your panties

Gamora hastily unbuckles your belt and kneels on the ground, pulling your pants and underwear down as quickly as possible

She practically drools at the sight of your glistening cunt, the mess slowly gathering on your thighs

“Such a pretty pussy.” You whimper as her tongue goes to lick between your folds, the tangy taste had her moaning in delight

“Peter, she taste so delicious. Our sweet girl is just aching for us.”

You gasp lightly as Peter kneels down next to gamora, watching the slick drip onto his thighs

He takes one finger and swirls it around your folds, your hands immediately going to grab onto his hair and pull

“You’re so wet, baby. You smell so fucking sweet.” You mewl wantonly as he easily slides a finger in, feeling your tight walls flutter against his thick finger

The squelching sounds of your pussy make gamora and peter swoon, their eyes shined with hunger as your moans became louder throughout the back of the ship

Your eyes widened slowly in anticipation as gamora leaned in to lick some of your slick and run it over your clit

Your body felt hot to the touch and sweat glistened off of you as they slowly worked up to your climax

Gamora tongue swirled around your clit, moving to your folds where your pussy was stuffed with Peter’s finger

Without warning, Peter inserts another finger which makes you yell

There was a slight pain from the lanky thigh fingers filling you up more than yourself

The sight of those two devouring your cunt had almost sent you over the edge, the combination of fire burning pleasures was rising

Your mind wandered to the love you have for these two in front of you, your heart rampaged against your rib cage

“Are you going to come on my fingers, sweet girl? Are you gonna let us taste your delicious cum?”

Peter starts to pump his fingers at a faster pace, watching as your legs become wobbly and unstable

Gamora swirls her tongue over and over again on your nub, flicking it back and forth

white hot pleasure wash over you in large waves, your climax surging through you as both of them flicker their eyes to watch

They both groan and moan as your wetness bursts out of you, your cum rushing onto peter’s fingers

With a satisfied him, he takes his middle finger and tastes every single drop before sticking his index finger in gamora’s mouth

She moans around his finger, tasting your sweet tangy cum, the sounds of your panting surrounded the room

“we love you, sweet girl.”

marvel: @harrysthiccthighss @fandomsandxfiles @rebekahdawkins

permanent: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @rebekahdawkins @hailmary-yramliah @buckybarnesplumwhore

#starmora #peter quill x gamora #peter quill x reader #gamora x reader #gamora x you #peter quill x you #marvel #marvel fanfiction #star lord x reader #star lord x gamora #gamora x y/n

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miraculous-ladybug-bitches · 4 years

Text

You’ll Come Running Back (to me)

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he responds, sitting down next to her. They were sitting on the ledge of the astronomy tower, and she laced her fingers through his.

“I can’t believe we’ll be done with school soon.”

“Me neither,” he says, leaning against her softly. She weaves her fingers through his hair, and he practically purrs.

“Time really flies, huh?”

***

Year One: Great Hall, Sorting

“Adrien Agreste!” the Headmistress calls. He gives Marinette a nervous look before hopping up to the stool where the Sorting Hat was waiting for him.

It pushes for a moment, then: “Hufflepuff!”

This comes as somewhat of a shock, at least to anyone who didn’t know him personally- as the heir of two purebloods who were esteemed tailors, and had their wa y into the Ministry, everyone thought that he would be in Slytherin, just like his ancestors before him. To Marinette, though, it was obvious. Adrien was a kindred soul, much like his own mother, and he was hardworking.

“Alya Cesaire!” is called a few people later. Marinette squeezes her friends’ hand before Alya walks up to the stool, somewhat confidently (though Marinette knee that most of it was pure bravado). The hat barely touches her head.

“Gryffindor!” Alya grins before walking over to the Gryffindor table. Marinette waves, then proceeds to zone out until her name is called.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” Marinette walks up to the stool, hoping that she appears calm and relaxed to anyone watching.

‘Hmm,’ the Hat says to her in her head, ‘a kind soul, though brave when faced with challenges. Strong, and a thirst for intelligence, but ambitious and clever. A difficult one, indeed, though my choice is clear.’

“Slytherin!” Marinette smiles and waves to Nino in the hoarde of people. She walks over to the Slytherin table and watches as Nino walks up soon after.

The hat stalls for a few moments- if Marinette had to guess, between Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. And surely, a few moments later:

“Hufflepuff!”

She watches him make his way across the room and sit down next to Adrien.

***

Year Two: Hallway

“Hey! Alya, wait up!” Marinette calls to her. Alya stops, and turns around to see who was calling her. She brightens when she sees Marinette.

“Hey, girl, it’s been a while!” she says as she links their arms together, after Marinette catches up to her.

She smiles. “Yeah. What’ve you been doing? Has your class started doing your Patronuses? The professor said that our class would start next week since we’re so ‘rowdy’ or whatever.”

“Yeah! We started yesterday, and so far I’ve only been able to produce some light, but sometimes I can see the shadow of an animal! I think it’s a fox.”

“Cool!”

“So have you seen the boys recently?” Alya asks. The smile fades from Marinette’s face.

“I saw Adrien last week and we talked for a while, but Nino’s only getting around to approaching me again. I think that he still thinks that because I’m a Slytherin I’ve turned evil? I dunno.”

Alya sighs, “Yeah. I talked to him a little while ago, and he told me that he was uncomfortable with the people you hang out with or something.”

Marinette frowns. “I bet he’s talking about Chloe. She was a brat when we were younger, but she has changed. And besides, who else am I supposed to hang out with from my house and year? It’s not like there’re that many of us.”

Alya laughs. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I tried to hang out with Alix and Kim, but they’re too competitive, so I found a friend a year above me. She’s really nice. And besides, Chloe’s definitely not the worst you could do- like, you could hang out with Lila,” she says, the name hissed like a curse.

“Speaking of, there she is. I should go before she starts saying how she talked to the Minister or some bullshit.”

“Bye!” Alya falls as Marinette practically sprints down the hall.

***

Year Three: Library

“Hi,” Marinette says quietly, walking behind Nino. He practically jumps out of his chair. “How are you?”

“Oh, hi, Mari,” he responds, relaxing slightly. “I’m good.”

“What class are you studying for?” she asks as she sits down across from him, pulling out her own textbook, parchment, quill and ink pot.

“Divination, you?” She finishes setting her stuff up and looks back at him.

“Defense,” she responds, “I kinda suck at it though. Can you help me?”

He nods. They spend hours poring over textbooks together before the librarian tells everyone that the library would be closed soon.

“Hey, Nino?” Marinette asks as they walk together. He faces her. “Yeah?”

“Are you still scared I’ll turn evil?”

He laughs. “Merlin, no. Not anymore, at least. And you have Adrien to thank for that.”

She relaxes, and her grip on her books loosens slightly.

“That’s good. I’m not going to go evil, I promise,” she says, then, joking: “maybe my housemates will drive me insane, though.”

He laughs with her, and once they go their separate ways, Marinette knows that she can finally sleep in peace.

***

Year Four: Slytherin Common Room

“Marinette! Have you seen my boots? The new ones my daddy got from Paris?” Chloe asks as she lays down on the sofa across from her.

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “No. But I did hear Lila saying something about-”

She doesn’t even finish before Chloe gets up again and power walks to the girl’s dorms.

“Lila! Did you take my fucking shoes?” she hears after the stomping ceases.

“No! I didn’t, I swear! I was with Prince Ali all weekend in Paris, I couldn’t have possibly taken your boots!”

Marinette rolls her eyes before turning back to her book. Lila was a liar and everyone knew it. Salazar, Marinette had Floo’d him yesterday. She sure as hell knew that Lila wasn’t with Ali.

“Shut your lying bitch-ass up. Give me my boots back.”

Marinette can just imagine what’s happening in the other room- Chloe has Lila by her shirt, sneering at her, and Lila makes some stupid excuse.

She grins when she hears Lila scream then cry- it was probably bad that she enjoyed it, but Lila needed to be knocked down a peg or two.

A few minutes later, she sees Chloe emerge victoriously with a pair of boots in her hand.

“Bitch said she was in Paris, but she was actually in a muggle town all weekend.”

Marinette looks at her curiously. “How’d you get her to spill?”

“I told her that if she didn’t tell me herself, I would reveal some of the blackmail I have on her or I'd give her Verisiterum.”

Marinette smirks. “You, Chlo, are the true Slytherin heir.”

Chloe flounces her hair. “Why, thank you.”

***

Year Five: Greenhouse, Herbology Class

“Adri, would you pass me that bit of Devil’s Snare?” she asks him.

“Sure,” he says, handing it to her. She reaches for it, but instead of taking it, it takes her hand. It then reaches for Adrien’s, and now both of them are entangled.

“Professor!” Adrien calls. She ignores him, busy with another student. Adrien trues to pull his hand out, but this only serves to make it even more tangled.

“Adrien, stop it! Don’t pull, it’ll only make it worse.”

She can feel his hand through the plant, and smirking, she entertained her fingers with his. He immediately blushes.

“What’s this? Agreste heir gets embarrassed because a girl held his hand? How scandalous,” Marinette says in false mockery. She practically gufffaws when she sees the blush go deeper, to his neck and ears.

“Mari! Stop it,” he whines pitifully.

She calculates his expression. “Hmm, let me think: no.”

He whines, “Mari.”

“No,” she grins wickedly, and she starts to tickle his hand; an odd weakness that she never knew she’d need.

He pushes down his laughter, which only succeeds in turning him more red.

“Professor!” he calls again, his voice breathy and choked with laughter. She doesn’t stop, and their professor doesn’t seem to her him.

“Professor!” He practically shouts, and she finally looks at them as the class goes quiet.

“Uh, we’re stuck. Could you help us?” he asks awkwardly, blush intensifying even more under the scrutiny of their classmates.

“I’ll be there in a moment, dear,” she says, and the class resumes their chatter.

“How would you feel if I told you that I knew how to get out of it the whole time?”

***

Year Six: Potions Classroom

“Stir three times counterclockwise, then let it simmer for five minutes,” Nino reads from the board. Adrien nods as Marinette drops the ingredients in one by one.

“Nino,” Marinette starts, and he groans.

“Stop right there. I know that voice. You’re going to convince me to do something stupid and despite being you two’s impulse control, we’re going to do it anyways.”

Marinette grins. “You know me so well.”

“I knew it. I knew this was a bad idea, why did I agree to this?” Nino laments as he watches Adrien, Alya and Marinette brew the mixture.

“We’re going to get caught and then we’ll have to clean the cauldrons for the rest of term,” he warns, but Adrien keeps stirring.

“Relax a little, will you? It’ll be fine, babe,” Alya says to her boyfriend dismissively.

A month later, after finishing the mandrake leaf, the four of them meet at the base of the Forbidden Forest.

“Alright, everybody, let’s go!” Marinette says, and they all transform. Alya goes first, and they all ooh and aah at the beautiful fox that appears in her place.

Then goes Nino, who’s Animagus is a huge tortoise. Adrien snickers behind his hand, and Marinette glares at him.

Adrien goes next, and his form is a tiny black kitten. Marinette reaches down to pet him.

“You’re adorable,” she coos, somewhat condescending.

She transforms last, into a small ladybug, and finds she can fly.

They all transform back. “Well, that was enlightening,” Nino says deadpan.

Adrien laughs. “Yeah, because you turned into a fucking turtle!”

Alya snickers. Nino pouts.

“Aww, it’s okay, babe. If we go out on a run together, I’ll be sure to walk next to you instead of running.”

Marinette guffaws.

***

Year Seven: Astronomy Tower, present day

“Time flies, but it’s on our side,” she tells him, and Marinette leans in.

The stars shine bright, that night.

#adrinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #hogwarts au #au yeah august

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softheartedscorpio · 4 years

Text

Dumbledore: I wanted you to have a normal childhood Harry.

Harry’s Childhood:

Parents gets murdered by a mad man.

Survives a unsurvivable curse and becomes famous but doesn’t know it.

Is a living horcrux.

Gets left on a porch in the middle of the night with nothing but a note.

Lives in the cupboard for 11 years even though the house had two extra bedrooms.

Is hated by his living relatives and treated like shit.

A half-giant shows up and tells him magic really exists, he’s a wizard, he’s famous, and the truth of his parents’ death. All in the same night.

Is bullied by a professor and compared constantly to his dead parents who he’s never even met or seen before age 11.

Fights and jumps on the back of a troll because a professor let it in the school.

Almost dies by said troll.

Finds out there’s a giant three headed dog in a SCHOOL.

Smuggles a dragon out of hogwarts.

Is sent in a deadly forest, is split up from the only adult, and witnesses someone drinking unicorn blood.

Almost gets jinxed off his broom by a professor.

Fights Voldemort over a magical artifact after all adults are proven useless.

Almost dies from Voldemort.

Gets locked and starved in his room with bars on his window and a cat flap.

Has to be rescued by fellow kids who then try to tell their mother and is ignored.

Has to deal with a crazy house elf trying to save his life by endangering him.

Is shunned by entire school for speaking a snake language and receives no help from adults.

Has a professor vanish his bones in his arms.

Is almost obliviated by said professor.

Is told to follow the spiders by an adult and is almost eaten.

Goes down into a chamber and fights a giant deadly snake with nothing but a sword because adults are proven useless. Again.

Almost dies from basilisk venom.

Spends a year suffering from dementors and hearing his parents being killed over and over again.

Has an escaped convict supposedly after him. Finds out it was his own godfather.

Is almost eaten by a werewolf that was actually his professor.

Has to time travel in order to save his godfather because for some reason Dumbledore can’t use his position on the Wizarding court to call for a trial.

Finds out he’s been living with the person responsible for his parents’ murders for almost three years and then said man escapes.

Goes to his first quidditch game and there’s a death eater attack.

Is entered in a tournament meant for adults and faces multiple deadly tasks because adults are useless. Again.

Is shunned by his school and receives no help from adults. Again.

Watches another student be murdered in front of him.

Sees the resurrection of his parents’ murderer using his own blood.

Is put under an unforgivable.

Fights Voldemort. Again.

Almost killed by a “professor”. Again.

Is isolated for the summer after witnessing a murder and finds out the entire world is calling him a crazy attention seeker.

Suffers from nightmares every night.

Is attacked by dementors and almost expelled from his school.

Receives no information from the adults.

Is written to be angry and moody because he recieved no therapy or help after witnessing a murder in front of him at age 14.

Has a blood quill used on him by his professor.

Is sent visions of from his parents’ murderer of him torturing and killing people.

Is TOLD NOTHING OF WHAT IS HAPPENING SO HE THINKS HES GOING INSANE.

Watches his godfather get murdered in front of him.

Is told a prophecy of all things is the reason why his life is totally shit and listens the man who’s partly responsible for it all justify it as trying to have a normal childhood.

Harry, who never had a normal childhood and is clearly being manipulated: Huh. Makes sense. You’re a great man. I’m gonna name my son after you.

#i hate dumbledore #albums is useless dumbledore #hp #lily evans #marauderes era #remus lupin #the marauderes #wolfstar #writers on tumblr #harry potter #incorrect harry potter quotes #incorrect quotes

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coloursflyaway · 4 years

Text

Let’s Repeat Our Chorus Triumphantly [1/4]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.800

Tags: Angst and fluff, fix-it of sorts, past character death, falling in love (and everything that goes along with it)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Read on AO3

“Where to now, then?”, Jaskier asks, excitement so very obvious in his voice, as if someone had caught the sun’s light in a bottle and offered it to the bard to drink. He’s a fool for following Geralt in the first place, even more of one for not having left already. Even a bard, even someone as hopelessly cheerful, as untainted by the world as Jaskier is, should know that the Path is dangerous, that Geralt is. And yet, he’s still here, not dissuaded by the insults Geralt throws at him, by the silence, the long marches and the sparse food. If Geralt allowed it to be, it could be intriguing.

He hums in response, not wanting to say more, because where Jaskier goes is none of his concern, but the bard pouts next to him, brandishing his lute like a weapon, and for once, Geralt gives in. “Lindenvale”, he tells Jaskier and watches his face light up once more, bright with imagined possibility. “There’s a contract for a couple of drowners. Doesn’t pay much, but enough for a night in an inn.” “Drowners, huh? Ghastly blue things, bulging eyes, those ones?” “Hm.” “Hardly the monsters great ballads are sung about”, Jaskier comments, not quite complains, but strums his lute anyway, looking at Geralt for second almost wistfully before he turns his eyes back to the road ahead. “But don’t worry, my dear Witcher, I will do my very best to change that.”

He hears the melody drifting through a window, soft like a summer’s breeze, as familiar as his own heartbeat and immeasurably more loved. Weeks have passed since he last heard it; they do not sing his songs as frequently anymore, too much time has passed. So much time. And yet, here in Lindenvale, the tune drifts through the streets, and Geralt stops, because there is nothing else he could do. There’s a griffin’s head tied to Roach’s saddle, ready to be swapped for coin, but he hoists his old, aching limbs off his mare and leads her closer, ever closer, to the source of the music. It’s sweet and longing and Geralt has felt old so often, but never as much as he does whenever he hears those tunes; at the same time, he never feels more alive.

Lindenvale has grown since they passed through it together, has gained an inn and three taverns, more merchants and a silk trader that Geralt cannot set foot in fear of blues and purples and deep, deep reds. And yet, he finds his way easily, every note making his heart sing, his heart ache, even before a voice joins the lute. When it does, it’s a young woman singing, and secretly, Geralt is glad for it; it would never be a competition, and yet it’s easier to try and not compare the singer’s voice to the one he knows by heart when it’s higher, clearer, possesses not the smoothness of velvet and honeyed wine, but instead the clarity of birdsong.

“O’er glistening roofs, you float” the woman sings, and Geralt turns a corner to find himself in front of another inn, one that even he didn’t know existed. “Through lily-strewn rivers, you dive…” Her emphasis is wrong, her fingers a little to clumsy for her instrument, but it matters not, Geralt still feels the words vibrate through his bones, his flesh, his heart. Hears them sung by another, pensive and bathed in sunlight, a lifetime before. Sees pink lips curl around a quill, which stains them grey, dark lashes pensively fan across cornflower eyes, brown hair that shimmers silver around the temples, as if a spider had caught him in his web.

“Yet one day, I will know your truths…”, the woman sings and Geralt pushes the door to the inn open, finds it cosy and warm and utterly forgettable. The singer doesn’t seem to notice her new audience, and he is glad for it, takes in her chestnut hair and tan skin, the green dress she’s wearing and aches so fiercely that he almost expects his tattered knees to buckle. “…if only I am still alive…”

Because that’s it. That’s the one wound he carries that even his mutations are unable to heal, even if they have carried him through everything else, the one blow that ruined him and yet wasn’t merciful enough to let him die. Because it’s been sixty-four years since Jaskier died, quietly and gently and in Geralt’s arms.

“I am certain you have heard it before”, Jaskier tells him, mere months after they have met, his eyes so blue that Geralt cannot look away, even though he desperately wants to. “But you’re a bit of an arsehole.” There is no venom in his voice, if anything, he looks amused, but Geralt still bristles internally, unsure why the opinion of a bard would matter anything at all, but somehow, it does. “Hm.” Jaskier cocks his head, then chuckles, a bright, joyful sound that seems to echo somewhere between Geralt’s ribs, the vast, empty space of his chest. “Oh no, you don’t have to worry”, Jaskier tells Geralt, just as if he already knew how to read him. “I like that about you.” And he smiles, and somehow, even that matters.

The last notes fade, sweet and familiar and taking another piece of Geralt’s heart with them; he lets them, gladly. After all, it’s not like he needs it any longer. In front of him, a tankard of ale is waiting, ordered more out of politeness, out of habit than want, because Geralt has stopped to try and drink his pain away more than forty years ago. Still, he takes a gulp, then another, before he gets up and walks over to the young singer, who is fiddling with the strings of her lute, brows drawn together in displeasure. She looks up at him anyway, and her eyes are blue. Not the right shade, although even Geralt isn’t sure which one it would be anymore, but they are blue nonetheless, and for a moment, Geralt considers turning back, because he doesn’t know if he can speak.

“Yes?”, she prompts when he doesn’t, raises an eyebrow inquisitively. She’s pretty without being stunning, but there’s a light in her blue, blue eyes that makes it easy to forget about it. “Do you need something?” He does, but nothing she can give him; nonetheless, Geralt does his best to smile a little, because he knows that is what Jaskier would have done. “Yes”, he tells her, and knows that the rest of the pain is still etched into his words, won’t go away for hours. “I wanted to ask – do you know more of his songs? Any of them, it doesn’t matter which. It’s just, it has been too long since I last heard them.”

Although it’s been decades since Jaskier passed, Geralt cannot force his name from his lips, fears it would slice them to shreds, but the singer seems to understand what he means anyway. She looks confused, but nods slowly, eyes narrowing. “…I do. There’s that one about the Witcher, I know that fairly well. I can play it, if you want.” Geralt doesn’t tell her that her description hardly narrows it down, Jaskier has written countless songs about Witchers, about him and Lambert and Vesemir and Eskel and far, far later, about Ciri, too, instead he just nods, tries to give her another smile, but fails. There are no tears, because he has already shed more of them than one lifetime could permit, but Geralt can still feel his throat go tight, the roof of his mouth start to hurt, even if his eyes stay dry. He knows what song she means.

“I’d appreciate it”, he says instead, heart so swollen in his chest that it is hard to breathe. “Thank you.”

“Thank you”, Jaskier says softly as they walk towards the castle, Geralt dressed in black silk that crinkles with every step he takes, driving him slowly insane. “I know you didn’t want to come, even if there is food and beer and women. I really appreciate it.” It’s not like the bard to talk like this, sound so honest, so sincere, and despite himself, it makes Geralt turn to look at him. The same thing happened earlier this evening, Jaskier crouching in front of his bathtub, his expression so unguarded that Geralt had wondered if the bard wanted him to read a secret in his eyes, his voice so soft when he muttered, “And yet, here we are.”

He doesn’t look quite the same now, but there is still something in his gaze that Geralt thinks he could decipher, if he only tried hard enough. “Don’t mention it”, he answers, keeping his voice low, monotone and looks away so whatever Jaskier is hiding can stay hidden. “Just make sure I don’t have to leave this mess sober.” Jaskier chuckles and there is an edge to even his voice, but before Geralt can decide if he wants to figure it out after all, the bard puts a hand on his shoulder, just for a moment. “Of course, my dear Witcher. Whatever you want.”

She sings and Geralt listens, sees Jaskier walk in front of him, hair tousled in the wind, a nuisance he wasn’t able to get of rid of, yet. Sees Jaskier, leaning against a table and singing along with the crowd, the stench of selkiemore guts on his tongue, the bard’s soft eyes in his mind. Sees Jaskier standing on a table, wobbling dangerously as he tries to conduct the crowd around him as they sing, a tankard of ale in his hand and his smile so bright it put every celestial body to shame, and his body warm in Geralt’s arms later, when he had slipped and the Witcher had caught him mid-air. Sees Jaskier, his hair as silver as Geralt’s, but his smile so much brighter, playing his lute in their favourite tavern in Oxenfurt because the barmaid had asked for it so nicely.

It’s impossible to look at her, so Geralt doesn’t try, instead keeps his eyes on the rough surface of the table, traces the lines in the wood with his gaze while he listens to Jaskier’s words, sung by the wrong person, always the wrong person. “He’s a friend of humanity, so give him the rest-”, she sings, and Geralt sees Jaskier, every version of him so clearly that he can almost trick himself into thinking the bard will be there when he looks up again. “That’s my epic tale, our champion prevailed, defeated the villain…”

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t dare to, but cannot help but to wish that his tears had not yet dried up so he could shed them again.

Geralt doesn’t watch Jaskier leave, because even if he is so angry he can feel himself tremble with it, he knows that those would be memories he wouldn’t know how to get rid of again. Everything seems to be crumbling around him and he doesn’t know how to stop it, doesn’t know how to cope, but he knows how to lash out, how to hurt. And hurt he did, he doesn’t need to watch Jaskier to know that. Maybe it’s better this way, because it would have happened sooner or later, Geralt knows it, because he knows humans and he knows himself. Maybe it’s better if Jaskier leaves before Geralt has figured out what the bard hides behind the blue of his eyes.

Leaving the tavern is more difficult than Geralt would have thought, as if Jaskier’s melodies had ingrained themselves in the walls to make them matter, but there is still a reward to be collected, and even if Geralt wishes it was different, as long as he continues to breathe, he needs the money. The singer’s eyes follow him as he leaves, blue and bright and beautiful.

Time has passed, but it seems it hasn’t changed a thing. Geralt is tired, so tired that he can feel it in his bones, his very soul. And yet, it only takes one look at Jaskier’s face for him to forget how coming here, every step had felt like walking a mile. He looks different and yet the same, blue eyes and brown hair, lips that should be smiling, but are pressed together in a thin line although Jaskier is surrounded by people, by ale, by music. The tavern is everything he should want and yet Jaskier looks broken, battered, and Geralt hates himself for causing this, hates himself for still feeling relief flood through him, just because he’s in the bard’s presence again.

It had been difficult to admit at first, but oh, he has missed Jaskier, and missed him terribly; yet, it might be the hardest thing he has ever done to cross the room. Their surroundings are loud, people talking and drinking, but Geralt doesn’t even make it half the way before Jaskier looks up and directly at him, as if it was him with the mutated senses, not Geralt. For a second he seems to be frozen in time, but then his eyes widen, his lips part with a silent gasp that Geralt can nonetheless hear across the chatter, the clanking of tankards. And Geralt is lost, because there's pain written still on Jaskier's face, inked into the blue of his eyes, and Geralt feels. For years, oh so many of them, he has refused to name it, that tightening of his chest, the breathlessness, the warmth that looking at Jaskier brings, but now the feeling names itself, declares itself to be love and Geralt cannot do more than nod mutely, and agree.

"Jaskier", he rasps out and hopes that the bard's human ears won't pick up on what his hear so clearly: the tightening of his chest, the breathlessness, the warmth. Everything around them seems to fall away, as easy as raindrops would; how could it dare to matter when Geralt hasn’t seen Jaskier in such a long time, when he has missed him so fiercely that he can still feel the remnants of pain gripping his heart, clouding his vision. He had been nervous coming here, but there is no room left for it now, no need, because there is pain on Jaskier’s face, and pain means there is still feeling left. And Jaskier has always been far too good a person to refuse forgiveness.

Geralt’s feet cross the remaining distance without him commanding them to, stop when Jaskier is so close that, if he dared to, Geralt could reach out and touch him. He doesn’t, but not for lack of wanting to. “Jaskier”, he repeats, just because the name feels right on his lips, because it’s been so long since he has uttered it. The bard’s companions are watching them, but it matters little when Geralt is back in the one home he thinks he has found, within Jaskier’s sight. “Forgive me. I meant none of it, not even in my weakest moment. It doesn’t make it right, and I know I do not deserve it, but please, forgive me nonetheless.”

After the way Geralt has treated him, Jaskier would deserve far more, an apology only a poet could craft, but this is all he has to offer, for better or for worse, and after all the time they spent together, Geralt trusts Jaskier to know as much. Trusts him with every fibre of his being, trusts him against every bit of training they tried to ingrain in him, trusts him because it’s Jaskier and he has never done anything but earn it.

A few moments pass, in which Geralt doesn’t allow himself to doubt, because Jaskier’s eye glisten blue and wet in the light of the fireplace, then Jaskier’s head jerks to the side, he wipes his eyes and there’s a sound coming from him that is as close to a sob as Geralt has ever heard, rich with emotion, slick with tears. But when he looks up, there’s a smile on his face, brighter still than the ones Geralt can remember, his cheeks are flushed, and Geralt wants nothing but to hold him, feel how warm his skin is when it presses against the Witcher’s. “Of course, I do”, Jaskier answers softly, and his voice is still half sob, half laugh, his eyes so wild and happy they take Geralt’s breath away. “You know I do. I was just waiting for you to ask me to.”

And he reaches out across the distance between them to take one of Geralt’s hands in his, holding it tightly for just a moment. Geralt’s skin burns for the rest of the night.

Roach is waiting outside for him, just as reliable as her predecessors were, nudges Geralt’s hand as he unties her as if she can feel something is wrong. This version of Roach didn’t know Jaskier, just like the one before didn’t and the thought is enough for Geralt’s overfull, empty heart to clench painfully. “Come on”, he tells her and wraps the reins around his hand; the merchant who hired him doesn’t live far away, so he doesn’t bother to mount the mare, just leads her through dusty, unfamiliar streets until they reach the small house. It’s seen better days, Geralt can still make out cracked white paint under the grime as he leaves Roach outside, taking the trophy with him, the bag he stored it in wet with blood and Roach’s sweat. The sturdy oak door underneath the merchant’s sign seems out of place on such a house, or in Lindenvale in general. Perhaps it agrees, Geralt can hear Jaskier tease as he pushes it open to reveal the small shop and he cannot keep the smile from tugging at his lips. Jaskier would love it, knowing that Geralt can still hear his voice so many decades later, that he talked enough for his words not to only last his, but Geralt’s lifetime.

“Killed your griffin”, he tells the shopkeeper when the older man doesn’t look up immediately, crosses the distance between them quickly; he can see bolts of fabric in the back of the room, white and green and cornflower blue. The faster he can leave again, the better. He drops the soiled bag onto the counter, undoubtedly ruining the papers the merchant was working on, but Geralt is too old, has seen too many people bluster and grumble and rail to care any longer. This merchant doesn’t even seem inclined to do that, only looks down at the trophy with shock painted across his face for a few moments, before raising his eyes to meet Geralt’s. They are brown and scared and Geralt breathes a sigh of relief.

“….yes, yes, of course, thank you, Master Witcher, certainly – “, he stutters out, pale around the nose as if he has never seen blood before. He very well might not have, but as long as he doesn’t faint, Geralt cannot bring himself to care, not when the echo of Jaskier’s ballad is still ringing in his ears. The merchant rummages through a drawer for a few seconds before retrieving a pouch of coins, sufficiently heavy for Geralt not to count them after the man has handed it to him. It should be enough for a few nights in an inn, food and drink and some supplies, and it has been so, so long since Geralt asked for any more.

He grunts in the merchant’s direction, turns to leave, but a timid voice stops him, fragile and with a hint of desperation clinging to words. “What – what am I supposed to do with this?” And Geralt suddenly is so, so tired. Of the same people, the same questions, the same fear and shock and disgust and loathing, the same towns and the same monsters, the same sun rising and setting again, illuminating everything Geralt has already seen and isn’t able to leave behind “I don’t know”, he growls, far more vicious than intended and yet not able to hold himself back. “Sell it, burn it, throw it out for all I care. It’s just meat and bones, nothing more and nothing less than any of us.”

When Geralt wakes, it’s still early, the morning sun only just sending out her first rays of light into a world that seems lighter than usual, even without it. It’s only been a few weeks since Jaskier allowed Geralt back into his life, and up until now, the novelty of it has not yet worn off. It seems to tinge every second of the day, makes steps lighter, words come easier and Geralt’s heart ache in the most pleasant way every time he looks over and finds Jaskier smiling.

They’ve gone west for no reason at all, but although money is tight, it’s the best Geralt has felt in what seems like an eternity. And the lack of funds brings one thing Geralt has never before been able to truly appreciate, it seems. Brings nights camped out in the wilderness in which Jaskier sits close to him to soak up the fire’s warmth, sings soft songs that are not for a crowd, but only for Geralt’s ears, wakes up beside him, dark lashes fluttering open like a butterfly’s tender wings.

If he hadn’t yet accepted the way his feelings have changed, Geralt thinks he would have to do so now, because there is a tenderness gripping his heart when he looks at Jaskier which he hasn’t felt with anyone before, not with Triss, not even with Yennefer, who he thought for so long he loved. But Jaskier is different, bold where Yen was harsh, gentle where she was fierce, sweet where she was forced to be bitter. Sometimes, Geralt still thinks of her, still misses her, but if so, then for her wit and her determination, not her kisses.

The sun is creeping up the sky, turning it pink and golden; it won’t take long until it wakes Jaskier, so Geralt uses the little time he still has to allow himself to watch Jaskier sleep and to finally be happy.

Since it’s only midday, Geralt knows he could go on, find a new contract in a new village, help people, like Jaskier asked him to all those years ago, but he cannot bring himself to leave, not when there is a chance to hear his bard’s music again. So instead, he leads Roach to nearest inn, pats her chestnut fur and listens to her whinny softly. She’s getting older too, her mane losing its shine and her stamina fading, but Geralt still loves her dearly, can’t imagine trading her for a younger mare. Hopes deep down that this time, it’ll be Roach who loses her rider and not the other way around.

The inn is small, but the stables where he leaves Roach are clean enough, a young boy promising to take care of her for a few orens, and there is a room left for him inside. It’s furniture is sparse, a bed, a small table and a water basin, but it’s more than enough for Geralt. He’s used to less, to makeshift camps on the side of the road, to the cold of Kaer Morhen, to the emptiness of their house and bed and garden in Novigrad after Jaskier had passed. So he drops his bags on the table and starts to take off the armour, his muscles crying out their gratitude; it’s been days since he allowed himself rest for more than a few hours and even his mutated body isn’t as spry as it used to be, aching from old wounds and new, aching most of all because Geralt has long since stopped taking care of it.

They stumble into the room, Geralt’s arm slung across Jaskier’s shoulder so he can keep himself steady, the bard’s hands warm as he helps him sit down onto the bed. There’s blood staining his palms, bright red on pale skin, and Geralt wonders for a short, delirious moment if Jaskier would allow him to kiss it away. “I’m not sure if I should scold you or patch you up first”, Jaskier grumbles, even as he starts to pull off Geralt’s armour piece by piece, by now as familiar with the buckles and clasps as the Witcher is himself. But there is panic hidden in his scent, sharp and metallic, and Geralt would do anything to soothe him. “What a silly thing to do, letting that slyzard get so close to you. How did you even make it this long, if something so – so hideous gets close enough to you to do this. Couldn’t you just use your pretty fingers to make your pretty signs and not get sliced apart by that disgusting phallus with wings?”

Geralt can’t help but chuckle, regretting it just a moment later when the motion aggravates the wound on his chest, the one on his ribs. It was a hideous thing, Jaskier was right, with a tail that had whipped the sword right out of his hands, the breath from his lungs. But - “It was coming right at you, Jaskier”, he explains quietly, trying not to wince when Jaskier removes his breastplate, then the tattered shirt he wears underneath. “It would have torn you to shreds, I couldn’t let that happen.” The hands inspecting his chest falter in their rhythm as Jaskier looks up from where he is kneeling in front of Geralt, something tender hidden in the blue of his eyes, something else that Geralt now wants to decipher more than anything else but hasn’t managed yet. Jaskier’s fingers trail idly across his collarbone, far away from the actual wound but still enough to make Geralt shiver.

“I appreciate the sentiment, believe me, my dear Witcher, I do”, he says softly, and his fingers have not yet stopped moving across Geralt’s skin. “But by now you should know that if anything were to happen to you, it would do just the same.”

He calls for a bath to soothe his ever aching muscles, because that is what Jaskier would have done, even if, without someone by his side to work out the kinks in his back, someone to press soft fingers into the tense mess of scars that covers his entire body, the relief will fade quickly. The bath doesn’t take long to come, two boys, carrying a large tub between them, that will still only just fit Geralt’s body. They’re followed by another two girls, pretty things that steal looks at Geralt’s form as they empty jug after jug of water into the bath until it is full, steam filling the small room until the air feels stifling. Fleetingly, Geralt hopes that what they saw was no monster, but a man, yet the thought vanishes and leaves no trace of its existence behind.

Instead of hoping, Geralt undresses and sinks into the bath, which should smell like chamomile and lavender, but instead has no scent at all. Still, the heat is pleasant, chases away some of the tension in his limbs, the strain in his neck and the sheen of sweat and blood that has collected on his skin since he started hunting the griffin. It was an easy enough beast to slay, yet enough to inflict scratches, which smart in the water, even if in the most pleasant of ways. He takes a deep breath, letting the steam feel his lungs until it feels like he is drowning in it, then dunks his head under water until he can believe it.

As much as Geralt teases Jaskier about his oils, his bathing salts, it’s hard to pretend that he doesn’t enjoy them now as the whole room smells of herbs and flowers as he steps into it. The scent must be a remnant of the bath Jaskier had ordered just before Geralt had left to stock up on supplies, on dried meat, alcohest and grease for the bard’s beloved lute. It’s not the one he usually uses, Geralt notices, it’s not as sweet, but carries a hint of tartness, the scent of fool’s parsley and ranogrin. And Jaskier doesn’t look like he usually does either, because Geralt doesn’t find him humming under his breath or plucking away on his lute, doesn’t find him spread out on the bed with a quill in his hand and dark ink stains on his fingertips. Instead, Jaskier is sitting on the mattress, his back against the wall and his skin still flushed from the hot water, the steam that still lingers in the air. He’s not wearing his doublet, his chemise half tucked into his breeches, and he looks beautiful, looks soft, looks like everything Geralt wants to look at for the rest of his days.

But at the same time, he looks more pensive than Geralt is used to, elegant brows drawn together as he studies the hands he has clasped in his lap, quite as if he held in them a mystery he can’t begin to solve. Even to look up at Geralt takes him a few moments, and while that doesn’t hurt, it might sting a little. “Jaskier?”, he asks, setting aside his bag and stepping closer to the bed, the bard’s cornflower eyes finally on him, following his steps. “What’s the matter?”

What Geralt expects is that one of the stable hands had insulted his singing, or a maid had rebuffed advances that he truly had meant, a small reason, easily fixed with ale and a good night’s rest, but instead Jaskier slowly blinks, then fixes his eyes– and by Melitele, how are they so blue, so bright even if Jaskier is distraught? – on Geralt, a new determination seeping into the furrows of his brow, into the curve of his pink mouth. “What are we to each other, Geralt?”, he asks and there is a shiver in his voice that Geralt hears but cannot understand.

He cannot understand the question either and maybe it’s that what causes his chest to constrict painfully, his heart turn to ice within it, because whatever is hidden behind those word, it matters to Jaskier and Geralt doesn’t know the right answer. Doesn’t know what will happen if he gives the wrong one.

Gingerly, he steps forward, feeling like he is crossing a river on the thinnest ice, only stops when he’s so close that he could touch Jaskier, if he only had the courage to do so. “What do you mean? We are… friends. Are we not?” It is the first time he says it out-loud, but surely, Jaskier must know already. After all, Geralt has stopped denying it years ago, has listened to his songs and shared his camp, his food, his life with Jaskier. He has always been better with actions than words, meant I care for you every time he allowed Jaskier to ride on Roach when his feet were aching but the next town too far away, meant Don’t leave me every time he let Jaskier pick their next destination, was trying to say I love you with every look, every touch, every breath. Maybe it wasn’t enough, he thinks, and it strikes fear in his heart unlike any monster could.

“That I know”, Jaskier replies, his eyes softening but the resolve is still there, hidden behind shining eyes; for a moment, Geralt breathes a bit more easily. “But it’s not what I mean.” “What then? You’re not making sense.” “How long have we known each other?”, Jaskier, asks, leaning forward, but doesn’t give Geralt a chance to answer. “Decades. And we travelled many of those years together, so I would never have wanted to disturb our relationship by asking for something you couldn’t give, and yet I cannot help but wonder… it used to be that we travelled together for a few months, then split and met up again when the time for it was right, but think of the last time we parted. It’s been years, I think. You even spent the last winter with me in Oxenfurt instead of Kaer Morhen, although I know you hate the city.”

Jaskier laughs softly, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and he is right, Geralt hates the city and yet hated the thought of leaving his bard even more. For a moment, he wants to say something, but Jaskier isn’t finished. “You have seen me at my best and at my worst”, he continues, and his voice is soft, contemplative. “When I was successful and when I had failed, when I got injured, rejected, thrown aside, and when I was happy, silly, drunk with love or ale or a crowd’s adoration. And yet, it seems that you haven’t tired of me. You let me dress your wounds, wash your hair, keep you company in your worst moments, in your best.”

He takes a deep breath and something deep inside of Geralt aches with the need to hold him, trembles with fear because he still doesn’t know where Jaskier wants to take him with those sweet words that feel like they could be either a beginning or an end. But he can’t, not yet, maybe not ever. “I hope-”, Jaskier starts once more, looks up at him, and this is it, this is where everything will change, Geralt can feel it, a tension crackling through the air. “I hope you know that I would never expect anything from you that you didn’t want to give. And I hope that, if you don’t reciprocate what I feel for you, that it doesn’t change the friendship we have. But I just – I can’t help but hope, because of the way you sometimes look at me, and touch me, and because you let me say all this without interrupting me once… Geralt, tell me, is there really nothing but friendship between us?”

He stays in the bath until the water has gone cold, then gets out to dress in the same shirt and breeches as before, feels the rough material scratch at his skin as if to ask him to spend the rest of his days submerged in water and memory. The light has changed since Geralt has last looked outside, midday giving way to a sunny afternoon. The bed seems to be calling out to him, a sweet siren song, and he could stay here, sleep until the next morning, but his herb supplies are running low, his whetstones almost ground to dust. And there is another song, ingrained in every of his cells, that draws him back to the tavern, back to the singer’s too-high voice and inept fingers. It’s the one temptation Geralt can’t withstand, even if it’s no longer his siren who weaves the tunes. So, he leaves the room behind and pretends he can smell ranogrin, fool’s parsley and the saccharine scent of love.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier #i truly do not know how tagging on here works anymore i am sorry i am ancient

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abigailsfictionalothers-archive · 4 years

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We’ll Go Down in History - Alistair x Me

A/N: Been feeling really sad and stressed today because of some big news, so what did I do? Ignored all of my responsibilities and wrote 2000 words of Alistair x Me fanfiction in one sitting! Figure some of y’all might enjoy seeing it as well, so here you go! This is a continuation of a little later after that piece I wrote last week :) Also this concept is HEAVILY inspired by an imagine I saw that I reblogged a little while ago!

Word Count: 1926

Warnings: Light, light, light allusions to violence and character death

Tagging: (Some who asked to be tagged, and others I thought might be interested! Anyone else lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future works!)

@sacredempressnatlyia

@nekociapek

@imagine-your-love-story

~~~

I always hated being around for royal business, but as long as Alistair had to attend to it, I would be there to support him. I could hate having to stand there and watch him dealing with rude people who felt entitled to his time and energy, but of course he had it worse in that situation, and I would do just about anything to help ease his discomfort over it; even if it meant just standing to the side and watching.

On any normal day, I would be out around Denerim on my own, finding jobs to do, helping people, keeping myself occupied. It's not as if I technically needed the work anymore, I lived in the palace now, officially an advisor to the king. I did advise him from time to time, but it was far less professional than most thought. While most assumed that the king had taken on his old friend and war time companion to advise him in a time of dire need, the truth was that we had finally been reunited after nearly a decade, when we went on an epic quest to find the truth about Alistair's long lost father, and had finally admitted that we loved each other along the way. He had asked me to come live with him in Denerim so that we could be together, and despite the stresses, of course I agreed. I tried to retain some of my old adventuring life, where I traveled all across Thedas, with the daily outings, and Alistair encouraged it, but of course I had to forgo that sometimes to keep up the front we had invented for ourselves in the effort to keep our relationship a secret. Which led to days like this one.

The king was due for a royal outing, to check on the well being of his subjects. He tended to enjoy this responsibility more than most of his other ones, although it still made me nervous. Who knew what random person would be horribly rude to Alistair in some way, shape, or form, leaving me to watch his discomfort helplessly? Or worse, what if someone attempted to harm him? He could defend himself, and had an insane amount of guards ready at every turn, I knew this, but still, the thought of someone trying to hurt him made me sick. Still, whatever my worries, I would stand there, and observe, so that every few minutes, Alistair could look over at me, see me smile, and strengthen his resolve to continue with his responsibilities.

So there I was, watching him talk to some of his subjects in the street. He glanced over at me and I did my best to smile lightly, as I was finally beginning to accept that nothing horrible would happen. He smiled in return, and if his smile didn't set my stomach to fluttering and make my heart squeeze almost painfully, I would almost have to scold him for his lack of subtlety. I was sure any person paying enough attention would be able to tell that the exchange wasn't a platonic one.

"Are you the king's advisor Ser Wallace?"

I was shaken from my thoughts when one of the ladies that had been talking with Alistair addressed me, "Oh, yes, that's me."

Immediately, much of the crowd turned to look at me. Well that was just fantastic.

One of the younger adults in the area stared at me in awe, "It's so incredible that you've returned to Ferelden to advise the king! Given your history, you must make such a fantastic duo!"

"Our history?" I panicked for a brief moment.

"You two do seem to be the best of friends, and what with your shared history of fighting the Blight and all! We've all heard the stories of the part you played as a team to help bring down the Archdemon!"

It was Alistair's turn to speak up in confusion now, "Stories? I wasn't aware of the tales of Ser Wallace and I still get told so frequently.”

Many in the crowd nodded eagerly. The young individual who had spoken up spoke again, "Of course they do! Even if you weren't king, Your Majesty, the two of you were an epic duo during the Blight! National heroes, you are! All the children that have been born since the Battle of Denerim have been told the tale of how Ser Wallace pledged allegiance to the Grey Wardens after they saved her from some nasty hurlocks in the woods, and spent the next year fighting with you to eradicate the evil from this land! Or how the two of you defended the gates of Denerim in the final battle, leading the troops in battle! You two are like heroes of legend!" Many of the children around had worked their way to the front of the crowd now.

I remembered both those days so clearly. The day my life had changed forever, when I'd been gathering some herbs in the forest near Gwaren for the apothecary, and had been attacked by darkspawn. They'd been so terrifying, such monstrous creatures, and even as I wielded my daggers, trying my best to force them off, I had been certain I was going to die. Brosca and her team, including Alistair, had burst forth from the woods, then, and had surely saved my life. It wasn't hard to see that they were Grey Wardens, but even with all the nasty rumors Loghain had spread about their involvement in the death of King Cailan, I didn't really care. I knew then and there that if the Blight truly meant an army of those monsters were coming, I had to do what I could to stop them. I wouldn't say I pledged my allegiance to them so much, but I vowed to help them from there on out until the Blight was over, and I changed my life forever in doing so.

And the Battle of Denerim. Oh, how could I forget it.

"Your Majesty, Ser Wallace, will you tell us about the Battle of Denerim please?" One of the children spoke up, once again shaking me from my reflection. I turned to Alistair, waiting for his response.

He raised an eyebrow teasingly, "What do you say, Ser Wallace? Up to tell some old war tales?"

I had to refrain from rolling my eyes at him and smiling, "At your discretion, my King."

He grinned and immediately turned back to his audience, beckoning me closer at the same time, which I complied with, "The sky was red as blood that day-"

~~~

I thought that I was surely going to die, along with everyone I loved, as I looked up at that sky. Murky, cloudy, blood red, it signaled my doom, along with all of Thedas. As much as I hated to say it, I was angry at Brosca for leaving me at the gate. The darkspawn only came in waves here, and at least if I was inside, constantly fighting, I wouldn't have the time to contemplate the sky. But instead, she had taken Morrigan, Leliana and Zevran, and I was left behind to hear the Archdemon die from afar.

I didn't know at the time that I would never see Brosca again.

"Next wave!" I heard Alistair yell, and I readied my position. When I saw the darkspawn coming, all I felt was anger. What a difference from one year ago, when just seeing a darkspawn had scared me enough to make me change the course of my whole life.

When that wave was over, Alistair approached me. "Is everything alright on this side?"

I grimaced, "We're hurting, but it could be worse. Just need Brosca to hurry up and kill that overgrown lizard."

Even with all the destruction around him, Alistair smiled at my ill-timed joke. Oh, how I had wanted to kiss him then.

"With any luck, it will be over soon. For good."

"And then you'll be king."

He frowned. "And then I'll be king."

"Does it scare you? I thought you said once that you preferred to follow. As compared to leading."

"It does. I do."

"You'll be good at it anyway, you know. Just look at what you've helped make happen here to day! All these soldiers trust you."

"That doesn't mean I won't still need help. Support, that is. Wallace, when this is over, woul-"

"Your majesty! Another wave incoming!" One of the generals shouted from the walls.

I smiled at Alistair, "Ask me later, yeah? When everything is good."

"When everything is good."

~~~

"-and then we saw a big explosion coming from the top of Fort Drakon, a light that blinded us all, and as it cleared, and the remaining darkspawn began to flee, it became clear that we had succeeded, and the Archdemon was dead!"

All the kids in the crowd echoed little sounds of awe, while most of the adults shuddered, remembering the day.

I chuckled lightly at Alistair's dramatized telling, the details of which varied slightly from mine, "As exciting as it was, it's getting late, my King. We should probably be headed back to the palace." All of his guards and other members of his entourage sighed in relief.

Alistair pouted slightly, and all the kids made sounds of disappointment, but he still straightened himself and began to bid his farewells to the crowd anyway.

~~~

Later that evening, we sat in Alistair’s study, as we do every evening, and he went over his papers that needed to be reviewed and signed, while I read on the couch, in front of the fire. I had recently picked up a history book from the library. As I read about all the epic feats these people had accomplished, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier in the day.

Soon, I heard Alistair’s quill get set down on his desk.

“So I suppose we’re a duo worthy of legend to the people, then?” I turned to him to find him grinning mischievously. I rolled my eyes at him and smiled, freely this time.

“Who would’ve thought, huh?”

He laughed a little, “Is it so hard to believe? We do make a pretty awesome pair.”

I found myself laughing now, "We do, honestly. Still, I never saw myself as the legendary type."

"Neither did I, to be fair."

I scoffed dramatically, "You're the King of Ferelden!"

"And you left behind everything you knew of a basic village life to fight in a war and protect your people. That's pretty epic all on it's own, wouldn't you think?"

"I think being a king and Grey Warden is more cause for stories and celebration than some 19-year-old who decided it would be beneficial to me to fight monsters I was scared shitless of."

"If I was to go down in history for anything, I'd much rather it be because I was fighting beside you than anything else."

Once I had registered his words, I had to fight to hold back my tears, "Alright, you big sap, you can reign it in. Since we're legends and all, how about we head to bed early tonight? I think we deserve that much."

Alistair smiled softly at my deflection, "You're right. We deserve the rest." He moved to put away his things and stand.

"Hey Al?"

"Yes, love?"

"The day of the Battle of Denerim, you were going to ask me something, when we were at the gate, but you got interrupted. Do you remember what you were going to ask me?"

I found him biting his lip, thinking about it. Soon enough, his eyes found mine, "I was going to ask you to stay with me. In Denerim. Like you are now, I suppose."

I was a bit shocked, "Even then?"

"I always knew you were the only support I wanted or needed."

I found myself fighting back tears once again, "I'm glad I can be around to help. I'm sorry it took so long."

"I'm just happy you're here now."

"So if you've finally asked, I guess that means everything is good now?"

"Everything is good now."

#my writing #otp: king and longing heart #self ship writing #selfship writing #self insert writing #selfship #self insert shipping #selfshipping #self shipping #self ship community #selfship community #self insert community

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musicofglassandwords · 4 years

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The Past: Part Four

Before he was the Mystic, before he was cursed, before the darkness had crept in and consumed his soul.

Before it all, Princeton Anaseh was a boy fascinated.

With many things, not just the magic burning in his blood.

The way the world worked, the way it operated, the temples and their false idols. The mysteries of Valon Taivas and their lack of enemies, and their lack of allies.The skylals who had abandoned their homeland.

Why exactly Ella insisted on never returning the books he lent to her.

Rather magnanimously too, he thought, scowling on the road home from school.

The guardians had known each other for nearly a year now. Prince knew that they weren’t exactly perfectly close yet, but he was certain that it was inevitable.

And he wasn’t sure if he was exactly fine with that, he thought, glaring at the sun-warmed cobblestones under his feet.

“Hey, royal!” Kyran shouted, running up behind him, and shouldering him a little harder than necessary.“Wipe that frown off your face. You’re casting a radius of ice about ten feet all around.”

“Go ask Sahrina for help on your homework.” Prince yanked his book bag away from him. “I’m busy.”

“Lies,” Kyran clasped his hands to his heart with all the melodrama of a sixteen year old boy. “Such lies. We also live in the same house, so you really cannot escape my persistence. Also she’s not even in the same year as us.”

“You’re acting just like Seth, also Rina’s smarter than you,” Prince was 100% certain if he rolled his eyes anymore, he’d go blind.

“I know,” Kyran glanced back, through the crowd of students behind them, and lowered his voice. “Is Seth going to move in?”

“He’s staying with Valera at the moment.”

“Huh.” Kyran had been living with Violet and Prince for the last few months, after some incidents with his parents. The latter couldn’t quite tell whether Kyran wanted to go home, but he was grateful that at least he didn’t have to share a room.

The two of them walked in silence for a moment, Prince staring at the shadows on the ground, stunted by the sun. He surprised to see that they were nearly the same heigh now, though Kyran was still an inch or two shorter than Prince, who was admittedly several months older. He wondered how tall Kyran would be when he finished growing. If he was going to be taller than Prince, the latter would probably need care for his ego.

They were a few blocks away from their house, when Kyran poked Prince in the shoulder.

“Did you hear about the broken window on the second floor?”

“Yes.” Prince said, just as they reached the house, opening the door, and gesturing him in. “Seth broke it.”

“How do you always know everything?” Kyran sighed, dumping his book bag in the parlor and heading into the kitchen.

“I’m perceptive,” Prince said blandly.

“Ha. You know, it’s interesting cause you act like you’re cold and boring, but you’re really not,” Kyran’s voice said, coming back with a plate of cookies in one hand. “But do you happen to know why he broke the window?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Prince took a cookie, slumping down on the chair in the parlor. If Violet saw him, she’d yell, but at the moment he was too lazy to care. The sunshine flooding through the window made him sleepy. This was probably why Valera vouched that his spirit animal was a cat.

“Someone in the youngers’ class was making comments about Ella.”

The youngers were how the older four guardians affectionately referred to the youngest three of the guardians, despite the small age gap.

“And you know how quiet and bookish she is, so she didn’t fight, but she took off running and I guess Seth saw it and he threw a chair out the window at the dude.”

“What was the guy’s name?” Princeton slowly put his cookie aside.

“Well, now I can’t tell you,” Kyran said, busily stuffing his face, “Because you you’ve got a certain violent look in your eyes, like you’ll go murder him, and Ella intentionally didn’t try to fight him. Imagine what she would have done if she hadn’t had any reservations.”

Princeton paused as the two of them considered it, then shuddered simultaneously.

Ella could be alarmingly...defensive, Prince decided. Perhaps he shouldn’t make such a fuss about her returning his books.

“Just thought it was interesting,” Kyran remarked, “Such a stigma already against us all.”

“We’re just unlucky, being the first major skylals since the Age of Apathy,” Prince shrugged. “That’s just the way it is.”

Kyran raised an eyebrow. “If you say. Also, where’s Vi?”

“Still working at the florist’s,” Prince said, pulling the plate of cookies to him. “Lots of weddings in the summer.”

“Lovely. Also there’s someone at the door.” And true enough, seconds later, there was a knock. Prince wasn’t surprised by this anymore, Kyran had already shown that he had scarily excellent reflexes and instincts.

Prince flicked his hand at the door, unlocking it, and the door slammed open. Angry stomps could be heard from the doorway as Ella stormed in, her gold hair a staticky mess and smeared with dust and grit. Blood trickled in a quickly drying streak down her face, and her book bag was covered in muddy smudges.

“What happened?” Prince asked, just as Kyran waved at her.

“Want a cookie?” he asked, holding up the empty plate.

Ella stared at them with a disdain so chilling, Prince contemplated jumping out the window. He thought he had mastered the death stare; clearly he was an excellent influence on Ella.

Raucous laughter filled the hallway as Seth followed behind a second later, gasping for breath.

‘That was so cool, Ell!” he said, holding his hand up for a high five.

“It was not cool!” she spat. “In fact, it was so uncool, I’m going to go back outside and murder Cade.”

She started to march outside, but Kyran reached over and snagged her wrist.

“We don’t want to cause any deaths, Ella.”

“I DO.” she said viciously, her eyes flashing dangerously. “VERY MCUH SO.”

Clearly, Prince thought, Valera had also been an excellent influence on Ella.

“Hooray for violent intentions!” Seth cheered, peeking out the window. “He’s still kind of dazed, so you can get him from here if you throw that plate.”

Clearly, Prince thought, Seth was extremely insane. As if he hadn’t known that already.

“What do you mean?” Kyran asked, looking lazily out the window. “Whoa. He looks bloody.”

“He called Valera the worst names I’ve ever heard, and she wasn’t even here!” Ella said angrily. “But I heard him, and he saw me and threw my book bag into the watering trough. So I jumped on top of him and choked him out, while Seth just stood there!”

“I threw a chair for you,” Seth countered, “And I’m already on probation for that. I am sorry about that, Ell.”

“It’s fine,” she sadi, sighing and waving a hand. “I didn’t use my powers. I gave Cade a good lesson, and hopefully he doesn’t say anything about it.”

“Better not tell Val either,” Seth added, somewhat thoughtfully. “She’ll probably blow up half the county.”

“I’m getting more cookies,” Kyran interjected, edging out of the room, just as Violet came in, and started at Ella’s appearance.

“What happened?: she said, gasping with the appropriate astonishment.

“Oh, Ella just choked out a boy twice her size,” Seth said, whipping into the kitchen.

“Where are the bandages?” Violet demanded of the air, and turned around. She paused and came back calling to all of them. “Sahrina’s not coming for training today, she’s going out withsome of her friends, but she’ll work on the weekend.”

A loud and audible gasp came from the kitchen and Seth stuck a head out, looking exceedingly and dramatically offended.

“She has other friends than us? I am HURT.”

“Don’t be a doofus, Sethy,” Kyran flicked him on the back of the head. “Rina’s a social butterfly if you haven’t been paying attention.”

“He rarely is,” Ella, Prince, and Violet said all at the same time. Violet spun away, leaving Prince and Ella sitting in the parlor.

“I can heal you if you need,” Prince offered, “Or we can call Rina back over.”

“you can heal?” Ella asked curiously, seating herself next to him.

“I mean probably,” he shrugged. “I’m guessing.”

“You can try if you want,” she offered, smoothing back her hair, the feeling of being so unconditionally trusted warming something in Prince, and he waved his fingers above the shallow wound. Amethyst sparks danced across her skin and the wound faded, leaving pink, nearly-healed skin behind.

“Wow, that worked,” she exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”

“Of course it did,” Prince said, pretending that there hadn’t been a real fear that he would’ve decapitated her. “Also can you return my books now?”

“Oh, right,” she said, nodding. “Of course I will.”

“It’s been a month.”

She smiled at him. “Has it?”

The door slammed open once again and Nato and Valera came in, each looks distinctly disgruntled.

“Did you get into another argument?” Ella said, rising from her seat and going to them.

“I can’t even talk about it right now!” Nato said, throwing up his hands and marching into the parlor.

Ella laughed, following Valera into the kitchen, and Prince smiled slightly.

Perhaps growing closer to these fools wouldn't be so bad after all.

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