#the crowd is more. hm. amenable

[kingofthecotas]

veeeeery interesting to Observe the shift in attitude towards marc from silverstone crowds in the last few years. and i mean this in a good way!

[amaurotine-daydreaming]

A Soul Eclipsed (Prompt 5 - Stamp)

“Hm,” Hythlodaeus said, propping his chin in his hand. “Hm.”

Hythlodaeus wanted him to ask. 

Emet-Selch was not going to ask.

“Most astute Emet-Selch—”

“Whatever it is,” Emet-Selch said immediately, “the answer is no.”

“—may I borrow your eyes for a moment.”

Emet-Selch’s lips twitched. “I pray you do not mean literally.”

Hythlodaeus chuckled at the jest and leaned in. His hanging braid brushed Emet-Selch’s shoulder.

“I simply mean to steer your gaze to our distinguished colleague. Or rather, the equally youthful fellow next to him.”

Emet-Selch scowled. “Do not make me party to your ceaseless gossip,” he said, beginning to lean away. With Hythlodaeus standing this close, they looked far too obviously like co-conspirators.

But a gentle touch to his elbow made him pause, and the sudden seriousness in Hythlodaeus’s eyes stopped him outright. Whatever Hythlodaeus did not want to be overheard for, it was important.

And so he allowed Hythlodaeus to step close once more. 

“His soul,” Hythlodaeus murmured. “Unless I’m mistaken… something is amiss.”

Hythlodaeus was ever quick for a second opinion when it came to his talents, even though they both well knew it was his - not Hades’ - Sight that was the sharper. Nevertheless, Emet-Selch obliged. Discreetly.

A passing glance - like he was merely scanning the crowd - sufficed. The man Hythlodaeus had indicated was speaking to Elidibus. Emet-Selch did not personally recognize him, but he was distinguished from the others in the Capitol’s reception hall by his mop of crimson hair and the unusual crystal foci he wore at his hip. That he wore such ornamentation openly made it likely (if not painfully obvious, at least to Emet-Selch) that he wasn’t from the city proper.

What wasn’t unusual was that he was speaking to Elidibus. Elidibus’s role as the arbiter of disputes, his pure white robes, and - perhaps above all - his warm disposition made him the most sought-after member of the Convocation. With Elidibus entertaining almost as many requests for conversation as Azem did, it was a wonder that he ever had time to attend to his duties.

Elidibus laughed openly, delighted by something his companion said, and the man in turn beamed. Nothing too out of place at an external glance. But his soul…

Most souls were robust, healthy motes of light. Emet-Selch had seen other kinds, of course: Those on the verge of death flickered and dimmed, sickly ones looked pallid, and corrupted ones looked mottled or even bloated. 

This man’s soul was none of these.

It looked partially eclipsed. Stained, like something dark had stamped itself upon it and was - almost imperceptibly - spreading.

“Do you see it?”

Now it was Emet-Selch who took Hythlodaeus’s elbow, turning them both away from the pair. “Do try to be more discreet.”

Of course, that was enough to give away to Hythlodaeus that he shared his concern. 

“Should we speak to him?” Hythlodaeus wondered.

Emet-Selch could already see the path Hythlodaeus was considering going down, and gave a short, sharp shake of his head. “Neither of us are even remotely acquainted with him. It would be quite rude to–”

“He seems to have a mutual friendship with Elidibus. Surely we could pass along a message–” 

“No.” It was not for them to disclose something as intimate as the state of another person’s soul. 

“Hades, he should be made aware.”

“Mayhap he already is.”

He was doing his best to steer Hythlodaeus away from this folly–any broaching of the subject to the man in question should be made in private and not in the middle of the Capitol building, at the very least--but Emet-Selch could do nothing about Hythlodaeus looking back over his shoulder at the peculiar, partially-eclipsed soul. 

He was being thoughtful, at least, and perhaps amenable to reason–

“I’ll be just a moment,” Hythlodaeus declared.

“What?” Emet-Selched hissed. “Hythlodaeus–!”

But Hythlodaeus had already slipped away and was weaving his way towards the man and Elidibus. 

Emet-Selch pressed a hand to his forehead, the edges of his mask digging into the flesh there. The stars only knew whether Hythlodaeus’s casual breaking of social norms would ever be less astounding.

[kydrogendragon]

8 - Heart-Shaped Pastries

Kicking off these Valentine's themed prompts with this lovely request from @carnelianmeluha!

Pairing: Dreamling Warnings: Pastry-Themed innuendos Words: 696 (nice) Ao3 Link Here

“Now, before you go judging me too hard, I’d like to point out that I’m a chef, not a pastry chef, mind you. So just... be gentle with the criticisms.” Hob says, setting down the plate full of golden crusted pastries. Dream can see the jams and custards baked within them from the opening at the tops of the... well, Dream can use context clues so he assumes the intended shape was a heart, though they leave much to be desired. The edges spread out, the pointed end more curved than it should be. It looked as if someone had sat upon the once heart-shaped dough before it was baked.

“They look delicious, love.” Dream says, looking up at Hob. His lover’s face is pressed firmly in a scowl — the kind reserved for kitchen fails and Dream’s tendency to forgo appropriate bedtimes.

“I said be gentle, not lie to my face.”

Dream huffs. “I am not lying. They do look delicious... shape of them aside.”

Hob groans and falls into the open seat at the table. Dream picks one of the “heart”-shaped pastries. The crust is flaky and perfectly cooked. The custard filling — he dips his finger into it and takes a taste — vanilla with a hint of lemon. It is good. Hob has never failed at flavor in these matters. He tilts the pastry in his hands. He can see the intended shape — no doubt it looked like a perfect heart on the sheet pan originally — and fails to suppress the smirk on his lips. He does, however, manage to suppress the giggle that’s currently caught in his throat.

“Oh, now what?” Hob says from between his hands. He leers at Dream through the cracks in his fingers. “Come on, out with it. I can see you practically bursting with laughter from here.”

“It... well, the shape is not quite heart-shaped, though it is still shaped much like something I enjoy.” Dream says, lips curled upwards as he watches Hob lift his head and blink. His eyes dart between Dream and the pastries, confusion written on his face.

“Something you enj—” Hob cuts himself off with a gruff laugh that quickly dissolves into manic giggles. His laughter is contagious and Dream finds himself laughing right along side him.

Hob wipes the tears from his eyes as he picks up a pastry of his own. “Right. Yeah, okay, now I’m curious, cause I’ve got two thoughts on what that dirty mind of yours went too — and both are applicable, I’d like to think.”

“Oh? And what is it you believe I’m thinking of?”

Hob takes the pastry in hand and turns it upside down so the point — it’s not much of a point if either of them is honest — is facing to the ceiling. “Well, it’s definitely less heart-shaped and more arse-shaped. So that was one thought, but not my first.”

Dream hums and takes a bite from his delectable custard filled “arse” pastry. “And your first?”

“Well, looks a bit like a pair of balls, doesn’t it?” Hob says, laughing through his sentence.

Dream narrows his eyes as he licks up the slide of the buttery crust. Hob’s eyes track his movements with a predatory gaze. His eyes grow dark as Dream’s tongue darts out and scoops a small portion of cream onto the tip of it. He pulls it into his mouth and swallows, watching as Hob’s gaze flicks down to his throat.

“Both valid guesses. And both just as delicious as these treats you’ve made.”

Hob’s eyes dart back up to Dream, open as wide as his gaping mouth, before he chuckles. “Yeah? Well, why don’t you enjoy the spoils of my hard work and I’ll enjoy a taste of their inspired shapes, hm?”

Dream stands, pastry in hand. “I would be amenable to such. To the bedroom, then?” Hob leaps from his seat and crowds Dream against the edge of the kitchen island.

“Now who said I was planning on letting you leave this room, hm? Would hate to make a mess of our nice sheets, after all.” He whispers into his ear. Dream shivers underneath him.

“No, we wouldn’t want that.”

[deliverred]

[ BIRTHDAY CAKE ] + [ COFFEE ]

It was a bit of an effort to juggle all of the things at once, the little plates and the little saucers with their little cups, especially through the milling crowd that had filed into the Menja ballroom, all of the twisting and curving lines for this amenity or that comfort – direly needed, after the surprise of the storm, she supposed.

But eventually, she caught sight once more of the head of red hair, that glimmering golden gorget, and Lyn smiled, murmured a pair of underbreath excuse mes, and wove through the remaining space that separated them until she pulled up before Lukas, handing him a plate of cake and a cup-and-saucer of coffee in lieu of a greeting.

"Almost thought I'd lost you in the crowd for a second there," she said, a touch breathlessly, her eyes creasing as she lifted her gaze up to his. "I can't say that sweets are my preference, but there are so many of them, and there was such a fuss over this cake that I hoped to grab the top tier before it ran out. If it isn't what you like, I could grab you a different one."

Canting her head, she saw the look on his face and stifled a snicker, instead taking a delicate sniff of the rich, bitter coffee and narrowing her eyes before taking a cautious sip. "Ah, hot," she reported, continuing; "Why didn't you tell me that it was your birthday? I had to hear it in passing from another."

It didn't hurt that he had not confided in her that sort of information – he seemed the type, a type she knew all too well, to push his personal life and his feelings down deep under the weight of his armor – but now that she knew it, she would not hide from him.

"Hm, I think I like the carrot cake better without this frosting. The spices are nice, especially after the chill. Would you like my frosting?"

While things had felt crowded outside, there had still been an entire beach for people to spread out on. Now, many of those same crowds were pushing into the viscount's manor; looking for shelter, warmth, a way to carry on the party that they'd been promised.

It was unexpected and a bit of a zoo, but so long as people were getting to safety, Lukas could remain patient in the face of jostling, shouting for this or that and the odd bumped-into-you-by-accident-sorry-about-that. For the most part, he was attempting to stay away from the busier, more desirable locations -- any staff member with towels, the warm drinks and food, places to rest -- and so meandered near the grand entrance.

So when Lyn weaves through the bustle of bodies, handing him a slice of cake and a much needed cup of something hot, Lukas' smile is tinged with gratitude.

"My apologies, I suppose a part of me wants to keep an eye on who is making it back to the manor's shelter." And who is not goes unsaid. "But it's hardly realistic to keep track of so many people." He'd caught a few familiar faces, but there were simply for too many people mixing about between guests and Menja's staff, so this seemed a good enough sign to take a break.

"Aha, it really is something else, isn't it? At least there seems to be some other options besides dessert," Lukas muses, gaze drifting over to the utterly massive centerpiece of the birthday feast before returning to his companion. "I don't think you could have picked poorly regardless, I am quite fond of sweets." He's careful with the couple of plates in hand now, just about to get a bite of the cake when faint surprise shifts his smile.

"Oh, I suppose I did not do so, did I?" His paused action of forking off a mouthful of cake is carried out, a pleased hum leaving him as he gets his first taste.

"Until recently, I have never had much reason to consider my birthday as anything other than a day to mark a year of changes and progression," he answers truthfully. "It was not meant as a slight, and I hope you did not take it as such -- though, I presume the cake and coffee mean there are no hard feelings for the oversight?"

Mm, the coffee is indeed hot, but he appreciates the path of heat it blazes.

While he'd not had it too often, Lukas would privately admit that carrot cake was one of the few ways he tolerated the vegetable. It was hardly noticeable, and as Lyn commented, the spices really were the star of the cake.

His smile is fond at her offer, and he chuckles. "If that's how you prefer it, I won't let your frosting go to waste." He'd eat it on its own, really. "Thank you, Lyndis -- for going out of your way to celebrate this day with me. You didn't have to, but your kindness is true and easily seen. I'll have to return the gesture properly, but...perhaps not with something sweet, if you prefer something else."

[hmlimollc]

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[yourheartonfire]

You are an ancient, sentient cursed sword known for corrupting even the most valiant and well-intentioned of heroes. However, you cannot corrupt the most recent hero whose hands you have fallen into - not because of their purity of heart, but because of their incorruptible cynicism.

Prompt courtesy of @writing-prompt-s

The Wielder was silent - too silent - during the planning meeting. So Gleamsteel held its thoughts to itself too, and was not surprised at the council's close when the Wielder walked off not to dinner at the campfire but to an empty grove where they drew Gleamsteel and opened their mind willingly.

I need your help, the Wielder thought, stepping smoothly through the first practice sequence. We can break through the tower defense, but once we do there's no way we can stop the sorcerer's ritual and save the princess. Am I wrong?

Gleamsteel thrummed. It's a one in a million shot... it ventured.

The Wielder didn't laugh out loud, but Gleamsteel could hear the tired scoff down their mystical connection. That's what I thought. Okay. They shifted into the second form. Okay. The princess has to die, and it has to look unequivocally like the sorcerer's fault.

Holy shit, Gleamsteel articulated before it could stop itself.

This time the Wielder did sigh out loud. It's not personal. I feel bad for her. I'd save her if we could. But she's just one person, and if that ritual goes off everyone in seven leagues dies. They cut downwards with extra venom. That's not a balanced risk, not for someone just because they have sentimental, maybe symbolic value to the king.

Hm. Gleamsteel pushed its tendrils towards that disgust. Such a selfish order, to put countless other sons and daughters at risk to save his own -

Knock it off. The Wielder straightened out of their form, swishing Gleamsteel's tip down into the dry dust. I told you I don't want to be king and I don't want to be a king maker. Stop with the creepy whispers or it's right into the bin with you when this is down.

Then what do you want?, Gleamsteel snapped. You don't want fame -

Crowd loves to see yesterday's hero fall, the Wielder said, spinning the sword in their hand and slicing through a theoretical foe.

You don't want power -

Ugh. What would I do with it? Make things worse?

You want wealth? Riches?

The Wielder ended the sequence not with a flourish, but with a perfectly controlled thrust. You know my terms. I want my due, and I want to walk away alive. You help me and I'll help you get into the hands of someone more, ah, amenable. Isn't that what you want?

Gleamsteel simmered with rage. How are you... Why won't you let me help you? You must want something!

Momma always said look out for them insisting on giving you something for free. The Wielder stuck Gleamsteel into the soft grass under an oak tree, picked up their flask of water and drank deeply. 'Cause that only means they're hiding the cost until its too late.

If Gleamsteel had lungs and teeth it would've snarled.

Stay focused here. The Wielder crouched beside the blade. Tower. Defense. Princess. Ritual.

"Chosen One?" Came an uncertain voice. "You all right?"

The Wielder stood swiftly, seized their sword and sheathed it, giving a reassuring nod to their companion. "Clearing my head. Big day tomorrow, eh?"

"Indeed," the companion said, clearly relieved to be in the Wielder's presence. But Gleamsteel felt their eyes cut to the hilt, felt the threads of doubt and the hunger to be chosen themselves...

That one, Gleamsteel whispered to the Wielder. I'll get you through tomorrow and you'll give me to this one as my next Wielder.

Done, the Wielder said immediately and clapped their friend on the shoulder to go with them to dinner.

[where-fading-princesses-live]

i love your GIF sets ugh why is TAGS tumblr fandom almost non existent when Facebook groups have over 100k members? hm maybe it's because this show mainly appeals to the elder crowd who mostly stay on FB and don't use tumblr yeah that could be it but what about the rest of us thirsty af huh??? what about the rest of us???? as much as i love [the original] Star Trek and I Love Lucy, there needs to be more content for this underrated gem thank god this blog exists hallelujah and amen

[autumnslance]

((Shadowbringers post-5.3. NSFW for naughty language and a scoundrel scandalizing his girlfriend.))

The ceremony was lengthy, the lists and speeches interminable, and Aeryn struggled to not doze off. She shifted in her seat as the sermon continued.

Thancred dropped his arm from the back of her chair to her shoulder. “Sleepy?” He pitched his voice so only she could hear.

“Mm-hm,” she replied, then whispered, “How’re you staying awake?”

She realized it had been a mistake to ask when a wicked grin curled up his lips. “Well,” he murmured. “I’ve been thinking about all the carnal things we’re going to do when we’re alone later.”

Her eyes widened and the heat bloomed on her cheeks. “Thancred,” she hissed, sitting up straighter.

“What?” he asked, amused. “Woke you up, didn’t it?”

“The worst,” Aeryn muttered fondly while he snickered.

She counted up to two minutes before he leaned close. “Now that I’m thinking about it, though…”

“Thought you already were?”

“Your jacket will have to come off.”

“It tends to when retiring for the night—”

“So I can put my hand on the back of your neck to hold you in place when I bend you over the nearest table.” The hand on her shoulder slid over until his fingertips were brushing the nape of her neck under her hair and collar.

Aeryn sucked in a breath, heat flaring once more...and not just in her face, godsdamn him. “This isn’t appropriate,” she whispered, eyes darting to check if anyone else had heard as she adjusted her seat again to cross her legs.

But the Warrior of Light and her companion were in the Fortemps box, high in the rear of the small auditorium, the other Scions having found reasons for their absence, including Alphinaud; not even their resident diplomat wanted to sit through another Ishgardian ceremony as a favor to their highborn friends. The heads of the elezens in the seats in front of them were barely visible, and heavy drapes separated the other noble boxes, forcing one to lean forward to glimpse other High House attendees—she had waved to the disgruntled-looking Stephanivien de Hailenarte earlier, presence no doubt forced as he always preferred to be in the Manufactory.

They were as alone as they could be in such a public venue.

“No, I suppose not,” Thancred agreed, sounding far too amused and looking completely at ease as he leaned back in his seat. His fingertips continued to tease her neck.

She counted another minute while the priest droned on before Thancred’s fingernails ever so gently pressed into her nape while he whispered, “Nor would it be appropriate to mention how much I wish to push up that skirt to sate my curiosity; full tights, or stockings? If the latter, are you wearing garters?”

“I’m not telling you,” she hissed, highly aware of his hold on her neck. She tried to pay attention to the priest once more, but her pulse was growing louder in her own ears and prevented any comprehension.

“I’m hoping for stockings,” Thancred mused. “Then they can stay on as I run my hand up your thighs until I find the hems of your smalls.”

Aeryn bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to squirm. She wasn’t giving him the satisfaction yet.

“I shall run my fingers where fabric meets skin,” he said, speaking in the rumbling purr she enjoyed him using in the bedroom which was not helping. His fingertips still massaged her neck. “Until I hear that delightful little whimper you make when about to beg of me.”

She was certain her face was on fire now.

He leaned close. “Only then, darling, will I test to see just how wet you’ve gotten,” Thancred’s whisper was a thunderous growl in her ear.

Aeryn’s boot hit the floor more heavily than she intended. She tried to look casual as she recrossed her legs and swallowed. She was not telling him how heated she was getting now.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he continued, lips brushing her earlobe. “If I’m going to remove your pantalettes entirely, or pull them just far enough aside to ravish you with my hand.”

She could practically feel his smirk as she gripped the armrests and tried to focus on the priest expounding at the podium. The man’s name escaped her at the moment.

Thancred made a long, thoughtful “hmm” noise; that was utterly unfair. “I suppose it won’t matter when I’m stroking you until you come for the first time for me.”

“We are in a church,” she hissed, trying to ignore the sudden throbbing between her thighs. While Aeryn didn’t believe in the gods anymore, she knew he did—if he had the shame to behave.

“And?” he asked. “Only men have such hangups, not the gods themselves. Especially if one’s studied them and what they get up to, and just why certain places are considered sacred.” The casual brushing of his fingertips over her neck still was not helping. “If I could I’d have you right here, as Thaliak did Azeyma in what became one of their holiest temples.”

“You are making that up,” she said, voice hoarse.

“I’ll show you the texts,” Thancred replied. “Perhaps after having you over the table. I think slowly to start with,” he added idly. “Just to feel you, tight and warm around me, savoring you over and over, building the pace and intensity until you come for me again.”

The auditorium burst into polite applause, startling her and drawing attention to the stage. The small squad of knights being honored for their deeds on the Gyr Abanian battlefields stepped up to receive their awards and promotions.

Aeryn took the opportunity to breathe, clapping as well. “Remind me not to ask how you handle boredom again,” she muttered, attempting to sound grumpy and knowing she was failing.

Thancred chuckled as he joined the polite applause, her neck regretfully free of his touch now. “Kept us awake through that sermon, didn’t it?”

“You’re just hoping I jump you as soon as we return to my room,” she accused in a whisper that didn’t sound as disgruntled as she wished.

“I would definitely count that as a bonus,” he replied. “I have to admit that I wonder what it would take to get you to ‘jump me’ before we reach privacy.”

“Not happening,” Aeryn retorted, attempting to refocus on the stage as the priests and officers went over each knight’s deeds.

“Are you sure?” Thancred asked, that dangerously amused tone returning. “You’re so quiet, it wouldn’t be difficult to find an alcove in a side hallway, perhaps an unused confessional, and press you against the wall, lifting your skirt and legs.” His hand now rested over hers upon the armrest, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her wrist.

She tried to affect a scowl while continuing to watch the stage. Soon enough, Thancred rumbled a thoughtful “Hmm.” She watched him from the corner of her eyes.

“But if the goal is to get you to initiate, then perhaps you’d prefer to pull me into a dark side room or corner and make me lean on a wall while you get on your knees. I would muss that lovely hairstyle you’re wearing, though.”

Aeryn took a deep breath before she could respond. “I can hardly manage that properly in private, you’ll be sorely disappointed if I try in public. Which I won’t,” she hastily added, seeing his grin.

“Practice makes perfect, darling, and you have been improving,” he assured her, giving her hand a squeeze. “Besides, it would give me cause to reciprocate. That’s what you really enjoy, isn’t it? Me on my knees instead, scribing you poems directly until you’re shaking?”

The imagery was in her mind now, damn him, remembering keenly the last time he had spoken a poem between her legs; his tongue and fingers had left her on the edge of bliss for the better part of an hour before finally tipping her over.

“Of course, then I might actually have to cover your mouth, as you almost make noise when I extol your virtues upon your virtue.”

She eye-rolled at that. In part to cover the little thrill up her spine when he spoke of keeping her quiet. She might have to examine that in more detail later.

“I believe in that case I would bring you close, then wrap your legs ‘round my waist and fuck you against the wall until we’ve both had our pleasure.”

Aeryn bit her lip. His precise deployment of profanity had caused another heated surge low in her belly.

“Then we’ll retire to your room, and then I’ll bend you over the table for more.”

“Think so?” Thank goodness, she managed not to squeak.

“Assuming you’re amenable, of course,” he whispered, giving her hand another squeeze. The ceremony was nearly over.

“I suppose you’ll have to see. When we’re in private.”

He chuckled again, and she did her best to pretend to ignore him in favor of what was happening on stage.

The end of the service and the following hour mingling in the hall removed most of the scandalous conversation from her mind. Aeryn and Thancred wove through the crowd, greeting old friends, smiling and nodding as they were introduced to various people, and otherwise engaged with the upper crust of Ishgardian society until Aeryn’s head spun.

Some baronet was standing far too close and acting far too familiar; she was ready to snap when Thancred stepped in, offering an arm. “Beg pardon, but they expect us at Fortemps Manor,” he said smoothly, smiling at the baronet though his eyes glinted with warning.

Aeryn tucked her arm in Thancred’s. “Of course. You must excuse us, ser.” She barely gave a nod before Thancred pulled her away. “Thank you,” she murmured as they wound through the press of people, hardly thinned despite the hour.

“We should have left a quarter bell ago,” he replied. “You were close to overwhelmed.”

She gave his arm a squeeze. “Not so long as you’re around to keep me steady. Or rescue me from obnoxious nobles.”

“More rescuing the nobles from you,” he replied dryly, smiling as she laughed. He guided her down a narrow stairwell, away from the main hall and exit of the cathedral. “We should be able to leave through a side door to avoid the crowds. But first…” He veered, pulling Aeryn through a door into a small storage chamber, rows of robes hanging along the walls, shelves and boxes of other vestments filling most of the room. Only a narrow space next to the door was free of clutter, and that was where Aeryn’s back pressed as Thancred initiated a passionate kiss.

The earlier conversation flared to the forefront of her mind. Her face—and other parts of her, dammit—heated again while he held her close, the kiss long and deep and oh so promising.

Eventually they pulled but ilms apart, Thancred letting out a satisfied sigh as he leaned his forehead against hers. “I needed that.”

“You’re rather intent on this little fantasy of yours, aren’t you?” she murmured affectionately.

“I perhaps did work myself up, teasing you,” he responded, voice low. Beneath the amusement was a desire that made her breath catch.

Aeryn cleared her throat. “Well, that’s your own fault. We’d best be getting home…”

His hands ran up and down her arms. “You are so…Coerthan tonight.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” She arched her brows.

“Outwardly acting the prim and proper maid, while truly you want very much to be completely undone,” Thancred murmured in that delightful low bedroom voice as they kissed again, his hand on her hip pulling them together and now her heart was racing.

Aeryn pushed him away, holding a finger up as he affected a pout. “First, I am not, you’re being ridiculous—”

“Always, where you’re involved, but you really are—”

“And second,” she continued, a touch exasperated. “We are still in a church and need to return to the manor.” He gave her an expectant look. She sighed. “Once there, I may be persuaded to let you have your way with me.”

“May?” Thancred grinned.

Aeryn smiled oh-so-sweetly back. “Depends how cold the walk between here and there is.”

“I feel compelled to point out we have a perfectly warm room right here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“For an adventurer, you’re certainly lacking a sense of it.”

Aeryn rolled her eyes and gently shoved him aside, leaving the storeroom. Thancred laughed, catching up and reclaiming her arm. “Very well, my dear. Allow me to escort you, and I shall hope you are very cold and require warming once we are within the privacy of the manor.”

Her blush returned and she sighed again, though it turned into a bout of giggles as they left the cathedral.

[warpaway]

if linhardt had been a little more awake, they would certainly have had more of a resistance to the path ferdinand laid out before them. it actually almost sounds nice, which is just proof of what a state they’re in. spending time with ferdinand isn’t always nice, but they suppose, if pressed, they would choose him over one of their other classmates.

“angelica sounds like just what i need,” he murmurs absentmindedly. then again, if ferdinand were to set his favorite tea in front of him at the mess hall, he’d likely just breathe in the aroma and fall asleep right then and there. then ferdinand might somehow take offense and wake him up by raising his voice and… yes, sweet-apple may be for the best here.

ferdinand practically wheels linhardt to the dining hall as though they were some manner of dollie, speaking all the while. even if they struggle to be entirely present (they could not, if pressed, recite the path the two take to get there), the moment ferdinand suggests he’s interested in what linhardt has been whiling their time with, their brain all but snaps to attention, returning to the place it had been just before they’d left their note taking.

surprisingly, ferdinand offers something interesting too. 

“i didn’t know that,” he replies, slightly impressed. “i don’t think petra would be very interested in us treating her that way. though, in either case, she can’t really tell you about something she doesn’t have. unless you mean those marks painted on her body…”

linhardt considers it. “there must be a reason for those, of course. she’d likely be more amenable to it. she never has stricken me as some one who doesn’t want to talk about her culture… yes, so that’s exactly why i won’t be singing to her anytime soon. it would probably just be insulting with how bad my voice is.”

they chalk it up to delirium that they’re in a decent mood. everything is simply too far away. even their hands are miles away from their shoulders; their legs even further. realizing this causes them to trip a little bit, but they recover (in their opinion) excellently, only by wrapping one hand tightly around ferdinand’s shoulder and the other on his forearm to steady themself.

linhardt is so, so sleepy, even the sleepiness is far away from him. he doesn’t know how long his hands even linger on ferdinand’s jacket, but they’re in the mess hall now and he has reason to remove them.

there are too many people here, they think. voices begin crowding them. it has an almost instant effect on them - their smile fades, their fingers curl into their palm, and their eyes close in longer and longer blinks. “hm… maybe i’m not so hungry,” they consider out loud.

even though he wants to leave, he finds himself rooted to the spot. there are people eating and he can hear them; people chatting and he can hear them; some of the women who prepare the meals are chatting and he can hear them. he can hear the door on the opposite side open and shut clearly. is ferdinand speaking? he wouldn’t be able to tell.

linhardt shakes their head. “thank you ferdinand, but i think i’ll just be heading to bed, goodbye.”

he’s slow, though, as he turns to exit.

say the line, ferdie!

[when-a-humble-bard]

what my heart just yearns to say

Word Count: 5575

summary: Jaskier’s a romantic at heart. So you would think he falls in love at first sight. But... when he falls in love with Geralt, he falls very, very slowly. Or, ten moments where Jaskier falls a little bit more in love with the Witcher, until he's really not sure when it started in the first place.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, injuries, vomiting, mentions of death, nonconsenual almost-groping by a patron, shipping lens on a canon scene, near-drowning, cursing (of course), first kisses, feelings confessions, Jaskier yearns so much oof

A/N: In which I continue to be amazed by the other creators in this fandom, inspired by them, and also wanted to further explore these two. I hope you enjoy it! A companion piece is in the planning stages already... Heh. Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine.

Read on AO3

...

I.

“They said it’s a water nymph?” Jaskier asks the Witcher one evening.

A fire crackles in front of them, sparks shooting up into the night sky. Stars peek between the breaks in the forest canopy above them. Geralt glances at the bard, then sighs and turns his attention back to the fire.

“That’s what they said.”

“But you don’t buy it,” Jaskier says. It’s not really a question. He can tell from Geralt’s tone.

Geralt’s lips press into a thin line. “Rusalki and some bruxae share a number of similarities in terms of appearance. The rusalki they described has pale skin and dark hair.”

Jaskier’s fingers twitch with the sudden desire to grab his notebook. “And… rusalki don’t look like that?”

“They can,” Geralt replies, glancing at him, “but so can bruxae. They also have similar tastes in prey.”

Jaskier purses his lips as he remembers what the townspeople had told them. “Men.”

Geralt nods. “Which is why you’re going to stay here with Roach tomorrow.”

Jaskier glances over towards the horse grazing a few yards away, then looks back at the Witcher. “So what’s the difference?”

He doesn’t know if the question tumbles past his lips because he’s genuinely curious about the answer or because he just really likes hearing Geralt talk. The Witcher’s subdued cadence was stubbornly persistent. Often when Jaskier made a concerted effort to engage Geralt in conversation, his responses were brief, clipped, and straightforward. A staccato drum against Jaskier’s lilting melody.

But apparently, Geralt was a fountain of willing knowledge when it came to monsters. And Jaskier could listen to him for hours.

Geralt’s brow quirks in surprise at the question. “To start with, bruxae are of the vampire family. They lure men to their death so that they may feed on their blood. Rusalki are, usually, much more amenable. They lure men to them for procreation, and rarely intend death.”

Jaskier’s brow furrows. “Which is why you think it’s not rusalki. You think it’s a bruxa.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier feels something twinge in his chest. “How do you kill a bruxa?” He tears his gaze towards the fire as he feels Geralt glance at him.

“They’re susceptible to silver, like most monsters. Igni is also useful. Bruxa tend to hunt in packs, so its unusual that the villagers here have only seen one.”

“Have you fought them before?”

“Yes.”

“Are you nervous? About tomorrow?”

A pause. “No.”

Jaskier huffs and offers a faint, uncertain smile. “That makes one of us.”

“I told you you’re not coming with me.”

“Yes, but that’s quite beside the point, isn’t it?” Because Jaskier isn’t nervous about himself.

Geralt’s head snaps over to the bard in surprise. “Jaskier—”

Jaskier waves him off. “So tell me, dear Witcher,” he says, because he just wants to hear Geralt talk as much as he can tonight. “Why does silver work so well on monsters?”

 II.

Jaskier watches him. The early spring air tugs gently at the loose strands of his white hair. Birds twitter happily in the canopy above them. The stream nearby is still. Mid-morning sunlight filters through the leaves and branches, leaving a mosaic of light around them.

Geralt breathes.

Kneeling in a patch of grass with his hands resting on his thighs, the Witcher has his eyes closed and just… breathes. Jaskier watches the steady rise and fall of his chest. The way it expands with each inhale, the way the ever-present tension in Geralt’s shoulders eases just the slightest bit with each exhale.

Jaskier knows he’s not asleep. Sleeping and meditating are different things. But he thinks that Geralt actually looks more peaceful like this. Jaskier had spent many nights in the bedroll near the Witcher and knew all too well that when Geralt slept, it was usually fitfully. But when he meditates like this…

Geralt is still.

Jaskier can’t help but feel like he’s getting a rare glimpse at who Geralt was—is—beneath the layers and layers of training and mutations. He knew Geralt didn’t regret what he went through to become a Witcher. At least… not exactly. Can you regret something that wasn’t your choice to begin with? Had been his rhetorical response when Jaskier had been brave enough to ask him one evening. But the bard knew that no amount of trials and training could erase the parts of Geralt that was still—sometimes painfully—human. Geralt held within himself a carefully balanced dichotomy that seemed, at least to Jaskier, to be a storm built on regret and guilt and (in his darker moments) self-loathing.

But watching Geralt meditate—the steady breath, the perfect stillness—makes the bard wonder if the storm metaphor isn’t quite accurate. Because really, when Jaskier thinks about it, Geralt’s humanity is perhaps more like the coastal waves. Relentlessly returning to the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.

Jaskier watches Geralt meditate and feels something tighten in his chest. He’d follow that tide to the end of the earth, he realizes. He’d call the waves back to shore for as long as Geralt would let him.

Geralt’s eyes blink open and Jaskier unapologetically meets his gaze.

He arcs his eyebrow. “Composing, Bard?”

Jaskier offers a small, sincere smile. “Something like that.”

 III.

“I’d rethink that move.”

If he’s being honest, Jaskier is almost as surprised as the patron when Geralt seems to materialize out of the crowd and grab the man’s wrist in a vice-like grip. The man’s other hand is still fisted possessively in the waistband of Jaskier’s trousers, uncomfortably close to his crotch.

“What,” the patron spits with a sneer full of rotting teeth, “unwilling to share your whore, Butcher?”

Jaskier grimaces. Butcher made his skin crawl, and he knows that Geralt didn’t take kindly to that term either. The bard had learned that very early, and very quickly.

Geralt growls low in his throat, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Call him that again and I’ll slit your throat.”

The threat makes Jaskier freeze instinctively. Call him that again… Him.

As in Jaskier.

The patron roughly lets go of the bard, who stumbles a step from the suddenness of the motion but still hasn’t taken his eyes off Geralt. In truth, Jaskier really hadn’t been particularly bothered by the term itself. He’d been called it before, and been called much worse than that several hundred times over. But Geralt took issue with it, evidently.

Geralt was defending him. He’d never had someone who’d done that before. Not even his own family.

“Not worth it,” the patron says gruffly. Geralt releases him with a shove to send him stumbling away from Jaskier. He staggers a few steps, muttering something under his breath. Jaskier doesn’t hear it clearly—something about his voice and screaming as pretty as he sings—but Geralt evidently does hear it, quite clearly. Something bright and furious ignites in his gold eyes.

“Geralt,” he says quickly but quietly. “Let it go. It’s fine.”

For a moment, the Witcher looks torn. Jaskier places a hand on his forearm, and Geralt levels a withering gaze on the other man. He rushes through the crowd and out the tavern. It’s not until the door closes behind him that Geralt turns his attention back to the bard. The hot anger in his eyes evaporates slowly into something that Jaskier almost wants to call… soft. His gaze flickers—quick and calculating—over Jaskier’s form. Looking for signs of injury.

Geralt’s gaze meets his again in a silent question. Jaskier offers a reassuring smile and slight nod in answer. I’m okay.

Geralt shakes his head, but Jaskier doesn’t think he’s imagining the tinge of relief under the veil of exasperation. “You really ought to learn some self-defense, Jaskier.”

Jaskier offers an affronted scoff. “I can defend myself perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Hmm.”

“I can! I’ll have you know, he is hardly the first over-enthusiastic fan I’ve dealt with.” Jaskier tries not to wince at the way Geralt’s expression darkens, and rushes of add, “And I’ve fended off unwanted advances just fine. He just happened to be particularly, ah, insistent.”

“Hm. And what happens when you can no longer talk your way out of such situations?”

Jaskier’s flippant smile wavers, then stays in place. “Are you offering to teach me, Geralt?” He’s mostly joking.

“Yes.” Geralt’s answer is immediate and unflinching. Jaskier tries not to think too long about why that sends a flutter through his stomach.

 IV.

The kitchen of the small house on the outskirts of the town has barely enough room for the three of them. Geralt, beside him, reeks of death and decay and monster guts. In front of them, the young boy—who couldn’t be older than 16 by Jaskier’s best guess—hoists his baby sister up further onto his hip.

“Truly, Witch—ah, Geralt?” At Geralt’s slight nod, the teen smiles. “Truly, Geralt. Thank you. I, um…” he trails off, turning to rifle through a drawer behind him. The middle sibling, a young boy of about six, runs around the corner and nearly barrels straights into the two of them in the entryway.

“Oi!” the teen snaps. “Slow down, will ya?”

“Sorry,” the younger boy mumbles, and then is off like a flash the moment Geralt takes a step to the left to let him through.

His brother watches him with a certain fond exasperation, even as embarrassment colors his cheeks. “Too much energy for his own good,” he says. Jaskier realizes then that he has a small pouch in the hand that isn’t supporting his baby sister’s weight. He extends it out to the Witcher. “It’s not much. Certainly not nearly enough for disposing of the monster that took our parents, but...”

Geralt shakes his head, making no move to take it. “No payment necessary.”

Jaskier glances at him and feels something unexpectedly soft warming in his chest.

“Please,” the teen says. “I insist.”

“Keep it.”

“My father taught me to never accept charity.”

Jaskier thinks of the empty cupboards around them in the kitchen and feels a small tug in his gut. He remembers all too well singing for literal scraps. Barely surviving. He knew desperate times. And he also knew that some people still ranked their pride higher. The bard figures he can’t really fault him for it, and besides, the poor kid had just lost the very father he’d spoken of. Grief did funny things to people.

Geralt stares at the boy for a long moment. Jaskier sees the tension work in his jaw before he holds a hand out and lets him deposit the coins into the outstretched palm. Twenty ducats fall from the piece of cloth.

“It’s all I have—” he begins apologetically.

“It’s plenty,” Geralt interrupts, folding his fingers over the paltry sum. It does not escape Jaskier’s attention that he doesn’t slip the coins into his own pouch.

The infant in the teen’s arms shifts and makes a distressed noise. “I… I should put her down for a nap, I think.”

Jaskier can hear the uncertainty in the boy’s voice and offers an encouraging smile. “We’ll see ourselves out. I’m sure a bit of rest is exactly what she needs. As a matter of fact, I could use a nap myself.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but Jaskier sees the relieved smile pull at the boy’s mouth. “Right. Well… Thank you. Again. I… thank you.”

He disappears up the rickety wood stairs. On their way out, Jaskier sees Geralt discretely drop the ducats into a partially-opened drawer by the entrance to the kitchen.

That soft, warm feeling in Jaskier gives an aching, happy tug.

 V.

Jaskier watches, fascinated, as Geralt’s eye twitches. The music that fills the tavern is not coming from Jaskier, and while the other bard is clearly less experienced, Jaskier seems less bothered by the amateur display than the Witcher. Which is odd—really odd—to Jaskier. Because he had been certain that Geralt really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about music.

Jaskier looks at the Witcher over the top of his wine glass as he takes another sip. “What’s troubling you, Geralt?”

Geralt settles an irritated golden gaze onto Jaskier as the bard (the other one) starts another song. It takes only a few seconds for Jaskier to realize it’s the same simple, mundane chord progression and structure as the last song played. Jaskier doesn’t miss the way Geralt’s gaze flickers lightning quick to the lute beside him.

Jaskier stifles a grin. “Don’t tell me you’re already missing my serenades.”

Geralt isn’t looking back at him, instead watching the other bard parade around the room with a look that is very nearly a glare. “At least your songs have some… complexity.”

That sends a very unexpected surge of warmth through Jaskier’s chest. He sits up a bit more, leaning forward. “Musically or lyrically?”

“Music,” Geralt replies, almost absently. “The… chords?” The Witcher’s gaze flickers uncertainly to Jaskier, who can’t help but feel like he’s clinging to every word. He gives Geralt a slight, encouraging nod. Geralt shifts. “They’re better than this shit.”

Jaskier stares at him. Sure, the Witcher didn’t have the same musically-inclined vocabulary, but even that couldn’t hide the fact that Geralt listens to his music. Really listens.

Geralt tears his gaze away from Jaskier’s after a moment, taking a long pull of ale from the tankard in front of him. “Your lyrics,” he continues, “are little more than inaccurate stories.”

“Ah, my dear Witcher, ordinarily I would balk at such a baseless accusation—”

“It’s not baseless.”

“—but you cannot hide the fact any longer.” Jaskier cannot contain the grin that pulls at his lips any more than he can contain the surge of a warm, fluttery feeling in his chest. He points a finger at Geralt. “You listen to me.”

Geralt looks back at him and—though he knows Geralt would deny it—Jaskier swears he sees a twitch to the corner of his mouth. “Impossible not to,” Geralt replies dryly, “what with you filling every damn second with song.” He takes another swallow.

The thinly veiled deflection does nothing to diminish Jaskier’s smile. “And you like it.”

This time, Geralt can’t quite contain the tilt to the corner of his mouth. “Hmm.”

Jaskier knows it’s a hum of agreement.

 VI.

Jaskier’s heart still hasn’t stopped pounding, even though they’d finished the treacherous part of the shortcut around an hour ago. The image of Borch, Téa, and Véa plummeting—their bodies disappearing into the mountain mist below—still leaves Jaskier with a slight roll to his stomach and an ache in his bones that had nothing to do with the long day of foot travel.

It’s close to dusk. The chill of evening mountain air begins to stiffen the bard’s fingers as he sets his lute down beside his bedroll. The dwarves busy themselves with setting up camp and starting to prepare a meal, but Jaskier can’t help the way he keeps watching Geralt.

Geralt, who hadn’t said a thing since Borch let go of the chain.

Jaskier kneels by his bedroll and pretends to adjust it, but he watches the Witcher sitting on a boulder a few yards away. He gazes out over the jagged terrain off the cliffside. He is still. But Jaskier feels his chest knot with concern.

Geralt was perhaps the single most selfless person that Jaskier had met in his 40 years of living. But that came with its pitfalls too—especially as it related to how Geralt tended to view himself. There had always been splintered shards in Geralt’s soul that Jaskier didn’t know how to begin to dig out. But he can still picture the way Geralt had stayed kneeling for a moment on those wooden planks, his head bowed like the weight of the world had—for just a moment—dropped on top of him.

Jaskier fears he knows that body language, and the weighted silence that had followed that moment. He fears that his 22 years of traveling with the Witcher means that he really does know Geralt. And that Geralt feels that he has let them down somehow, despite all he did to try to save them. Even at great risk to himself, Jaskier remembers with a bit of a wince, hearing the creak of those boards under Geralt’s feet.

The Witcher could never catch a break, it seemed.

With a sigh, Jaskier stands and crosses to him. Geralt makes no move to acknowledge his presence, not really, but his stillness is a sign of recognition in and of itself. The bard sets himself carefully, gingerly, on the boulder beside him.

“You did your best,” Jaskier tells him softly, the words managing to push through his slightly tight throat. “There’s nothing else you could have done.”

Jaskier looks at Geralt as he says it. The Witcher had spent more years constructing a mask of passivity and stoicism than Jaskier had been alive, but the bard knows him. And when he sees Geralt’s gaze drop by a few degrees, he knows he’d been right about where Geralt’s thoughts had been.

Something in Jaskier’s chest pulses with an ache that he cannot name. Geralt has carried too much for too long and Jaskier desires fervently to ease that burden. To find a way to let Geralt breathe and be and exist without quite so much heaviness.

“Look, why don’t we leave tomorrow?” he offers, his fingers fidgeting in his lap against the sudden desire to take Geralt’s hand. “That is, if you’ll give me another chance to prove myself a… worthy travel companion.”

It’s a weak, flimsy attempt for a smile. Geralt doesn’t, but there’s just the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth when he hums in response. Geralt glances at him briefly, and though Jaskier doesn’t meet his gaze, that aching in his chest gives a sharp lurch with hope.

“We could head to the coast. Get away for a while,” he adds softly. He’d never said the words aloud before, but they resonate with a certain familiarity. “Sounds like something Borch would say, doesn’t it? ‘Life’s too short. Do what pleases you… while you can.’”

Jaskier swallows, setting his hands on his thighs because they are only getting more fidgety with each pulse of that sharp warmth in his chest—more insistent now. Harder to ignore.

“Composing your next song?” Geralt rumbles quietly.

Jaskier looks down at his hands. “No, I’m just, ah—” I love you, he thinks without daring to look at him. “Just trying to work out what pleases me.”

 VII.

They’re half a mile out of town when it starts to rain. The starting sprinkle lasts just long enough for Jaskier to think he’s glad he invested in a case for the lute before the sky opens up and it starts to pour. Then he’s also glad he bought some decent boots at the last town they were in.

“Fuck.” Jaskier knows that tone. Geralt is annoyed. The bard glances at the Witcher beside him, a faintly amused smile pulling at his lips and a teasing quip on his tongue, but… it dies on his tongue .

Because Geralt meets his gaze, and for a moment, Jaskier forgets how to breathe.

He doesn’t know why, really. The rain soaks Geralt’s white hair, causing some of it to fall into the man’s face in damp, loose strings. His dark shirt is quickly becoming plastered to his broad shoulders from the downpour, having left his armor to be cleaned during their quick trip to the woods to collect some medicinal herbs. Jaskier thinks it’s something about the Witcher’s eyes. Maybe it’s something to do with the way water droplets cling to his lashes. Or the way his golden eyes seem so much brighter in the downpour. Maybe it’s something else entirely.

Jaskier is a man of many words and many metaphors. But he finds words failing him entirely now, and he can’t explain why. Except that he’s left with the sudden, clear sense that looking at Geralt feels a lot like being called home.

Geralt tilts his head slightly, the way he usually did when he was about to ask a question, but Jaskier blinks and jumps in before he can.

“And you thought the lute case was a poor investment. Well, how do you feel now, Geralt? We still have half a mile to go before shelter, and such time for a lute to spend in rain like this…” Jaskier shakes his head. “It would be nothing short of an absolute, irrevocable tragedy.”

“Hmm.” Geralt looks away from Jaskier then, squinting briefly up at the sky. Not squinting, Jaskier realizes after a beat. Glaring.

“Not a fan of the rain?” he asks, mostly rhetorical. Geralt rarely vocally complained—usually Jaskier did it enough for the both of them—but the slight crease between his brows is a familiar look of displeasure. Jaskier pulls the lute case off his shoulders and shrugs out of his doublet.

“It will make it harder to track—what are you doing?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes as he slings the lute case back around his shoulder. “You left your cloak back at the inn, and I know, though you will adamantly deny it, that the real reason you hate the rain is because it gets into your eyes and makes it harder for your sensitive, Witchery eyes to see. So, here.” He hands the purple doublet out to him, looking very pointedly down the road where they can just barely make out the silhouette of the edge of the town.

“Jaskier…” A hesitation. A surprisingly heavy one.

“Honestly, Geralt, you’ll be doing me a favor. Wet doublets are dreadfully heavy, and as I am already saddled with carrying the weight of this lute and your reputation…” Jaskier looks back at the Witcher then to flash him a smile.

Geralt stares at him for a long moment, then takes the garment. As he does so, Jaskier swears he sees a twitch to the corner of Geralt’s mouth.

The bard quickly spins around and rushes a few steps in front of him, arms outstretched to welcome the rainfall, feeling a little breathless again.

 VIII.

Jaskier jolts to awareness with a desperate, strangled gasp. Bile surges up his throat and he barely has the wherewithal to roll away from the person beside him—whose presence is more sensed than seen. Jaskier groans and shuts his eyes against the rolling nausea and the oddly briny taste it leaves in his mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He feels a hand rest between his shoulder-blades, so gently it almost seems hesitant.

When Jaskier takes a breath, it trembles. More bile—salty and acrid—rushes up his throat. When the second round of nausea abates and the coughing that wracks his lungs eases, Jaskier feels something cool and smooth pushed against his lips. He instinctively jerks away.

“Damn it, Jaskier,” snaps a rumbling voice. It’s weirdly familiar, even if the strain in it sounds foreign to the bard’s ears. “There’s not—”

Whatever the voice was saying is drowned out by a beautiful, echoing melody. It whispers promises of safety and warmth and love, and something in Jaskier’s chest gives a near painful lurch towards the sound. It’s also not until then that Jaskier gets a sense of his surroundings: the lake in front of him, the grainy sand sticking to his sopping wet clothes, the slate gray overcast sky above him. There are ripples in the lake and that song is calling to him from the water.

Overcome, Jaskier scrambles towards it.

“Fuck—”

Something thick and heavy grabs around Jaskier’s torso and pulls him back. The bard’s back hits something solid and firm but Jaskier’s chest is still pulling, pulling, pulling towards the water, towards the song.

The cool, smooth thing is pressed to his lips again. Jaskier wrenches his head away. But then he can hear something, barely, rumbling like distant thunder beneath the lilting song.

“Drink it, Jaskier. Please.”

The “please” sounds… odd to him. Strained and choked.

Jaskier lets his lips part in response, and a cool liquid floods into his mouth. It tastes of honey and cotton, washing away the briny taste that had been lingering in his mouth. He swallows it down.

A second later, the song fades away. So does the sound of the lake and the dusk breeze brushing past his ears. Just… silence. Jaskier feels the pulling in his chest release and the bard nearly goes boneless from the sudden relief.

He blinks a few times as clarity starts to trickle back into his thoughts. He’d been… traveling. Tracking a siren, or a mutation of one anyway. Yes, that was right. But he’d been with someone. Specifically…

“Geralt?” he asks, his own voice sounding odd in his head with the rest of the world muted. He realizes as soon as the name leaves his lips that Geralt is the thing that’s holding him in place. Jaskier cranes his neck to look at the Witcher, who still hasn’t relaxed his grip. Bright gold eyes meet his blue ones, then flickers over his form with panicked speed.

The stoic, collected look the Witcher usually wore has splintered, just a bit, and Jaskier thinks he can see a glimpse through the cracks that Geralt is frantically trying to piece back together.

He’s… afraid, Jaskier thinks. Or he had been, a moment ago.

“I’m okay,” Jaskier tells him, if only because he has the feeling that maybe Geralt needs to hear it.

The Witcher doesn’t reply, instead swallowing thickly and sinking his head to where Jaskier’s neck meets his shoulder. And if Jaskier traces Geralt’s arm around him to find his hand and lace their fingers together, well. Geralt doesn’t seem to protest.

 IX.

Jaskier is about halfway through the song about the vampiress when the door to the tavern ricochets open with a loud crack. Geralt staggers a step into the room—and it’s the fact that he staggers that makes Jaskier stop mid-song. The Witcher’s entrance is less than graceful, but Jaskier watches closely as Geralt grits his teeth, straighten his spine, and step fully through the threshold. Geralt’s eyes flicker over the room like he’s looking for something, or someone—perhaps the woman who had hired him—when they settle on Jaskier.

Oh.

The bard gracefully, if quickly, jumps to his feet and slings the lute in his hands around his back. Geralt is hiding it now behind sharp eyes and a rigid posture, but something is wrong. Jaskier can tell.

“I hate to cut a performance short,” he says to the crowd as he maneuvers through them towards the Witcher, mostly in an effort to break the sudden silence in the room, “but alas, I must bid you all adieu for the evening. Geralt, shall we?”

Geralt doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even hum. But he follows Jaskier as the bard carves a path through the crowd towards the stairs. Jaskier flashes patrons reassuring smiles despite the way his own throat is tightening with concern.

They make it to the room—barely—before Geralt’s steps falter again. Jaskier steadies him by grabbing his arm and bracing a hand against Geralt’s chest.

“Easy,” he says softly.

“Fuck.”

“Here. Let’s get you sitting before you end up face-first on the floor, because if that happens then we’re both out of luck because—Melitele’s tits—” Jaskier yelps  when he staggers for a second under Geralt’s sudden weight. “Okay. I’ve got you. Here we go.”

Jaskier is rambling as they cross the small room to the bed. He helps Geralt sit, kneeling in front of him as the Witcher sinks to the edge of the mattress. Geralt grimaces tightly and pitches forward into the bard, his head landing on Jaskier’s shoulder. His weight sinks a bit more, as if too weary to pull away. This close, Jaskier can feel the echoes of faint tremors wracking through his body.

Jaskier swallows the rising panic down. “Potions?” he asks in as level of a voice as he can manage.

“Out,” Geralt answers. “The venom isn’t lethal just—” Another shudder and a tight grunt. “—hurts like a fucking bitch.”

Jaskier releases a faint breath. He supposes he should feel relieved that it’s not lethal, but he can’t help that the tightness in his throat doesn’t quite ease. “What can I do?” he asks, because of all the things Geralt could have done and all the places he could have gone, he chose to find Jaskier when in immense pain. He wants to live up to that display of open trust.

He feels Geralt fist a hand in his shirt. “Just… stay.”

“My dear Witcher,” Jaskier says thickly, and if his voice breaks just a little, at least Geralt doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 X.

Jaskier doesn’t think about it. He sees the mage thrust a hand out in Geralt’s direction when the Witcher’s back is turned and Jaskier lunges on nothing but instinct and the acrid taste of fear on his tongue.

A bolt of sharp green slams into his chest. Something cracks when Jaskier hits the forest floor, something that the bard doesn’t think is magic. His head snaps against the ground, his vision swimming. Heat and sharpness tears through his chest.

Someone screams. Maybe it’s Jaskier. He thinks he hears his name shouted, but it sounds far away.

He is drowning. Can you drown without water?

The bard gasps, desperately, searching for air that he can’t seem to drag into his burning, burning, burning lungs.

His eyes sting. He doesn’t know how much time passes.

There’s a hand on his shoulder—and Jaskier tries very hard to let that tug him from his haze of thoughts. When the hand pulls at him, rolling him onto his back, Jaskier can’t quite contain the choked whimper that releases in the back of his throat. He grimaces, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Jaskier.”

He definitely knows that voice. Jaskier blinks his eyes open, setting squarely on Geralt above him. It occurs to him that he’s never seen Geralt’s eyes quite so wide.

“Fuck,” Jaskier wheezes. He grimaces again. Is he dying? He doesn’t know.

“What the fuck were you thinking, you goddamn idiot?”

“My dear Witcher,” Jaskier replies, pretending he doesn’t notice the way Geralt’s voice very nearly breaks. Jaskier voice is tight with pain—his lungs are throbbing—but soft. Unapologetic. “You’re quite lucky I love you, or else I might be insulted.”

He’d never said those words aloud before—I love you—but he means them. He thinks perhaps he’s meant them for quite a long time. Long before even the thought had occurred to him on that mountain all those years ago.

And he thinks Geralt knows this, from the way his eyes widen, and then his whole expression crumples.

“Jask,” he says, a hand cupping the bard’s jaw, his thumb skimming Jaskier’s cheekbone. “You can’t—you… fuck.”

Jaskier takes a breath to reply but cuts off with a wince at the sharp jolt it sends spiking up through his ribs. But he realizes then that the burning in his lungs is easing—gradually, but quickly—and the bard’s next exhale trembles with relief, even as his vision blurs with tears. Whatever spell the mage had sent at Geralt, it seems like one meant to briefly incapacitate and not kill outright. With a quiet grunt of effort, Jaskier presses a hand against the wet leaves beneath him and pushes to sit up.

Geralt looks startled, but he helps nonetheless. The hand on Jaskier’s jaw slips back to cup the back of his neck and the other grabs his free hand to ease him up. The bard sees Geralt’s gaze flicker over his form.

Jaskier tosses him a shaky, wan smile. “Not a lethal spell, it would seem.”

“You didn’t know that,” Geralt snaps, like that should have made a difference in Jaskier’s decision to jump in front of it.

“A moot point, really, Geralt.”

Something bright and pained flickers through Geralt’s gaze. He takes a breath as if to reply, then stops. A crease appears between his brows a second later. “You’re still hurt.”

“Some broken ribs,” Jaskier replies dismissively. The fact that Geralt is still gripping him like he’s afraid Jaskier might just dissolve into smoke in front of him doesn’t escape the bard’s attention.

“Hmm.” He sees Geralt swallow. Watches the way his pupils flicker over the bard’s chest and refuses to meet his eyes.

“Geralt.” The gaze snaps to his own, wide and splintering. Jaskier takes a shallow breath, his gaze as steady as the words that leave his lips. “I meant it, you know. I do. Love you, I mean.”

Though Jaskier can’t be sure—his ears are still ringing a bit—he thinks he hears Geralt’s breath catch.

“Jaskier,” he says, and the bard doesn’t know why his name sounds choked in Geralt’s throat. The Witcher leans forward until his forehead rests against Jaskier’s, and he’s clutching the bard’s hand to his chest like it’s a lifeline. “I… fuck. Fuck.”

And then Jaskier feels Geralt’s lips brush against his own—soft and careful, warm and asking. And Jaskier kisses him back with answers and promises on the edge of his lips.

It feels like coming home.

[mason-knight-retired]

Half way through the night, Mason plucks Marie off the dance floor and leads her to the bar.

“Mase,” she complains. “I was dancing.”

“I know,” he laughs. “But I wanted some time with the guest of honor before you get too deep into round two of that alcoholic haze you have going on.”

She sighs a little. “Sometimes being a biotic sucks. The buzz never lasts long enough.”

“I can help with that. “ He motions to the salarian behind the bar for a round of drinks – more for the table where some of Marie’s squad congregates as well as something special for himself and Marie. Maddox spares him an irritated glare for stealing his dance partner but Mason ignores it. If he’s picking up the tab for the celebrations tonight, he’s going to at least snatch a few minutes with his favourite girl.

He’s about to turn back when an asari in a black formfitting dress cocks her head and gives him an appraising look that he returns with a small inclination of his head and a small raise of his glass.

“Ugh, really?” Marie mutters from beside him. Mason turns to her in surprise.

“What?”

Her eyes shift from him to the asari then back again. “That,” she says, wrinkling her nose delicately, She’s so cute, and an absolute knock out in that sparkly dress.

“What?” he says again, even though he knows full well what she means. “Spit it out, Rie.”

“I… you know what, I’m not even going to ask. I’m wearing heels, got my sparkle on and a drink in my hand and I am celebrating tonight. Who knows when we might be able to do this again?”

Mason taps his glass briefly against hers. “Amen to that.”

Mason leans back against the bar, eying the small crowd gathered around the table.

“So, your squad,” he starts. “Tell me about them.”

Marie immediately straightens, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder. The pride shines bright on her face. “They're amazing,” she says.

“Of course they are,” he says, amused. They look like an interesting bunch, even if they’re all smashed off their faces right now. But then it was a party, that was the point. “They're yours.”

Marie eyes him suspiciously and he throws one hand up. “I mean it. You're a good leader. I wouldn't be going with you on the Berlin if you weren't. I like my skin too much, thanks.”  He raises his glass, glances at the asari once more and winks.

“Ugh, you’re insufferable since Dr Lyons put you back together.”

He laughs at that but then his smile fades slightly. He tilts his head and tries to catch her eye. He worries what he says next might piss her off so he keeps his tone fairly neutral. “But you and Nico though? Is that really a good idea?”

“Isaac knows not to send us together when it’s boots on the ground. But I want him with me.”

“I know he wants that too. Speaking of the captain, though, is he planning to make an appearance tonight? I sent him a message.”

Marie shakes her head. “Not his scene.”

“Ethan looked him up. Seems like a good man.”

“He is. I think you’ll like each other.”

“Hm, that’s all I can ask for. But that other one on your squad-“

Mason jerks his chin towards the group and watches as the curly haired kid snatches a drink from a burly blonde and a dark skinned man calmly takes it out of his hand before the liquid can slosh across the table. Another man leans back, arm draped across the back of the curly haired kid’s chair.

“-The greasy looking one that thinks he’s some kind of twentieth century cowboy….”

Marie chokes slightly on her drink. “Thurman?”

“Yeah. Is he going to be a problem?”

“Why would you think that?”

Mason pauses to choose his words carefully. They’ve faced their fair share of distrust from the Alliance and while most of it has died down since their results speak for themselves, there’s still plenty that would be glad to see them all morphed into dragoons and executed. And Mason would rather sleep on the Berlin without having to worry about waking up with a knife to his throat.

His hesitation seems to be all that Marie needs and her eyes flash. “He knows better than that, but if there’s any problems, you come to me about it, Mase. Me. Promise me that.”

Mason throws up his hands in surrender. “Of course.”

He’s about to say more when a wall of heat manifests at his back. He’s instantly enveloped in a familiar cologne and a pair of lips plant themselves to the side of his neck as a wide hand slides across his stomach and tucks into the inside pocket of his jacket. 

“I knew you took them,” Ethan says into his ear, breath hot enough to make Mason shiver. Ethan draws out a small case. “These are mine.”

“You can have them,” Mason says, trying to ignore the ember that threatens to ignite at the other man’s close proximity. “They’re awful.”

“A new drell blend I found on the wards. Supposed to make you see stars.”

“Makes you see something alright. It’s too strong. Should come with a warning.”

“Serves you right for trying to pilfer. First my shirt, then my cigarettes. Poor form, Huntsman.”

Ethan mouths at his neck again, pointedly ignoring Marie and Mason is forced to swat him away so that they can continue their conversation. Ethan’s low rumble is all he hears before the heat disappears and he’s left alone with Marie once again.

“What?” he says dryly, noting her stare and the high climb of her eyebrows. He doesn’t need to ask but he does anyway.

“So fucking married,” she mouths behind the rim of her glass.

Mason rolls his eyes. “No, that’s just what Ethan is like. He’s like that with everyone, especially when he’s been drinking.” He gestures to the dance floor, where Ethan is currently twirling the tiny one from Marie’s squad around to make his point. What was her name? Harris? She stares up at him with eyes like saucers. “Bloody peacock,” he adds affectionately.

Marie wrinkles her nose and opens her mouth to say more before apparently thinking better of it and Mason nudges her lightly. “Go back to your drink, Miller,” he says, knowing she’s dying to rib him more about it. “Just because you’re loved up in engagement land doesn’t mean-“

“Engagement land, pfft, that’s not a thing, Masey. You’re drunk.”

“No,” he says slowly then wonders if she might have a point. It was starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges and he was having a hard time trying to tear his gaze away from how good Ethan’s ass look in those pants. “Okay, maybe.”

They’re still laughing together when Nico shows up to steal Marie back to his side.

[cats-obsessions]

The Survey Never Lies

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Modern au, something fluffy

Read on ao3

Summary:

Jaskier convinces Geralt to try Speed dating. The results are not what either of them expected.

----------------------------------

Geralt isn’t exactly sure what possessed him to agree to this. It’d been a rough past few months, with contracts being few and far between, and when they came, they were truly the worst. To say that this dry spell had extended to other areas in his life was an understatement; even Yennefer was able to move on by now after their latest, seemingly permanent, breakup. ‘Move on’ might be an understatement- enough time had passed for Yennefer to go into full-blown party mode, get over it, begin a new and honestly adorable relationship with their mutual friend Triss, and make up with him to the point of being hostile friends again.

That is to say, it has been a long time.

With next to no money and even less company, even Geralt could admit he has been feeling down. And yet, of course, Jaskier was always there right beside him through it all. It was always that way. Which is precisely why he got himself into this mess.

Initially, when the troubadour had suggested they try speed dating, Geralt was quick to strike the idea down. He’d already gone through the pains of using that awful dating app at Jaskier’s insistence, and he wasn’t about to have a rerun of that disaster. But then, Jaskier started to frame it as if he was the one that needed a date, and Geralt accompanying him would just be a favor- just to keep him company if it was boring, and to keep him safe if things went wrong. Geralt knows that was just a ploy to make him go, but between that and big blue puppy dog eyes, he found himself reluctantly agreeing.

Jaskier did not, however, tell him how horrible it would be. ‘it won’t take long’. Bullshit. Over an hour of small talk with strangers, and Geralt feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin. The establishment isn’t the finest, either. Everything is cheap- 90s music playing on shitty speakers grate on his eardrums, dimmed florescent lighting and fake candles on every table make it feel morel like a pizza parlor than a romantic dinner. And then there’s the people.

They’ve been paired into groups based on some benign personality survey they were forced to take when they got there, then paired off for short conversations. Five-minute sessions are timed on a buzzer, each blessed ring marking the end of the conversation, and bringing with it another stranger. They’re awkward at best and insufferable at worst.

It’s Geralt’s personal nightmare incarnate.

The best conversation he’s had all night was about one woman’s five cats. The worst was probably when a man tried to lean across the table and grab at his medallion without asking and Geralt found himself releasing an inhuman snarl before he could stop himself. The poor guy ended up hiding in the bathroom for the remaining duration of their five minutes, but that’s what he gets for trying to touch people, especially a witcher, without asking.

Even the cheap beer doesn’t make it better. When the timer dings, and all the participants in the room begin to shuffle to new tables, Geralt takes a moment to look down at his glass, taking a long, long sip of tasteless beer. By the time he has glanced up again, Jaskier is seating himself across the table, wine glass in hand. The bard flashes him a toothy grin, leaning in closer, propping his elbows on the scratchy, off-white tablecloth. As per usual, his button down shirt is left undone far too low, exposing a far too distracting patch of chest hair that Geralt most certainly doesn’t stare at, nor do his eyes slowly trace up exposed skin of his collar bones and neck to the slight blush tinging his cheeks.  

“So, how’s it going, my friend? Found the new Mrs. Rivia, or Mr., though, I suppose it’s not guaranteed he’d take your last name. Not that it’s guaranteed with a woman, either. You could take her name. Though, I do like yours- better than my own, actually.”

Geralt glances away, trying his best to hide his smirk at Jaskier’s prattling, “Hm.”

“Oh, come on now, use your words. We’ve talked about this. You’re not going to find someone when I’m the only person that understands your unintelligible grunting.” Jaskier chides, though it is true. Somehow, over the years since they met in that shitty bar in Pasoda, Jaskier has come to understand the witcher well- better than most. Where other humans shy away from him, Jaskier became stuck to him, following him on hunts and writing songs about their adventures- reluctant at first, he’s now thankful for the bard.

Geralt sighs “This is hopeless, Jaskier.”

“No, it’s not!”

“It is. They’re all- ugh, I don’t know.” Geralt rubs his hand over his face, “They’re all either freaked out by me or oblivious to what I am, and they just talk about their normal lives and normal jobs and- and how Geofry from accounting fucked things up again, while I’m sitting here thinking last week I was swallowed by a fuckin’ kikimora. I don’t fit in here.”

“That was horridly disgusting, but lots of people are into adventurous men. What about Eveline? She seemed amenable.” Jaskier gestures to the woman a few tables down with long red hair. Yes, she had found Geralt attractive, in dim lighting which hides his scars and expands his pupils into circles rather than slits, but that doesn’t translate to companionship, or even a night of fun. Yet, Jaskier is always the optimist, “There’s still hope yet!”

Geralt shakes his head “Easy for you to say. You don’t need to go speed dating to find someone. Everyone likes you.”

“As flattering as that is, I think, there’s nothing wrong with speed dating. Anyone who isn't interested in you is a fool. Besides, it's not always that easy for me! I’m looking for something a bit more committed this time. Not that I didn’t have great affections for my previous romances. Just…” Jaskier trails off, tongue sticking out slightly as he looks for the right terms.

“Momentarily and in measured amounts?”

“Mm,” Jaskier hums in agreement.

“Infatuation has to wear off some time.”

“So I’ve been told. Seems some hang around longer than others though,” He mutters. He casts his eyes down as if in thought, his ever-moving hands finding the rim of his wine glass, a long finger tracing it in a way that emits a high-pitched noise the musician likely isn’t even aware of. Geralt grunts, frowning slightly as he grabs Jaskier’s hand to remove it from the glass. The bard lets himself be moved easily, fingers warm and inviting under the witcher’s touch.

“Noise,” he grumbles.

Jaskier smiles apologetically, “Ah, witcher hearing. Sorry, my dear.”

His fingers tap on the tabletop, looking for something to fidget with in the wine glass’ absence. He finds the long-abandoned conversation que cards so kindly provided by the event’s organizers, as if they knew rightfully well how miserably uncomfortable this predicament would be.

“Have you looked at these at all tonight?” he asks, picking them up to glance through them.

“Tried not to. They’re deplorable.” Yet, the well-worn corners of the cards attest to how many attendees truly rely on them.

Jaskier smiles coyly “You’ve been showing people pictures of your lovely lady Roach again haven’t you?”

“Maybe” he blushes, both of them chuckling. “People like horses”

“Mm, that would only be a good pick-up tactic if she didn’t bite strangers.”

“She’s shy.” He defends, though he knows she’s not. She’s just picky; she’s never tried to bite Geralt, or Eskel or Vesemir for that matter. These days, she likes Jaskier enough to let him ride her when they visit her stables at Vesemir’s farm.

Jaskier glances to the clock, red numbers counting down the seconds until he will be subjected to yet another stranger. “We still have a bit of time, want to try these dumb questions?”

“Is silence not an option?” Geralt groans, though not without the hint of a smile on his lips.

Jaskier swats at him lightly, ignoring the comment. He flips through the cards, reading a few under his breath “What color is your personality? That’s dumb- yours is blue, obviously, and mine is yellow. Hmm, Ah, here’s one.” Geralt tilts his head, waiting “Describe your best friend.”

He can’t help but snort at that “Annoying.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, appropriate answers could have included handsome, funny, talented, brilliant, loyal” Jaskier counts his claimed attributes on his fingers, likely to go on forever lest Geralt interrupt.

“Reckless, frivolous-” He jumps in, a teasing, toothy grin on his face.

“Fun. Fun is the term you’re looking for. It doesn’t matter though. I know you adore me.”

There’s too much truth in the words; though he wouldn’t hesitate to call Jaskier his friend -his best friend- adoration is a strong word, a word unknown to many witchers. Yet, he can’t deny the way Jaskier makes his heart fill with warmth, makes him feel alive and safe like he never has before. But that is something he’d much rather keep to himself. Geralt looks away, surely blushing as he lets a curtain of white hair falls in front of his face, hopefully hiding the pink tinge.

Jaskier watches him quietly, that soft warm expression in his eyes that somehow seems to be reserved for the witcher. A moment of silence passes before he snaps out of it, only a few seconds left on the clock “Wanna get out of here?”

At that, Geralt perks up, “I could use a real drink, but what about your search?”

“I don’t think I’ll find the one in this crowd,” he says, looking out on the group, a disappointed little pout pulling at his lips for just a moment before he turns back to Geralt, ever bright smile returning to his face.

Geralt nods, standing up and slipping on his jacket in preparation to leave. He catches Jaskier’s eyes roaming over him for a moment before the bard diverts his gaze, catching his lip between his teeth. Geralt does his best to focus on anything else. Whatever warmth or fluttering feelings it may give him, he knows he’s just imagining his friend’s interest.

They almost make it out with everyone around them shuffling to new tables. But, of course, they’re stopped by the group coordinator. They’d met him when they came in- a young man far too invested in this program, reciting his company provided lines with an unnatural enthusiasm.

“Looks like you two are having a good time. I’m glad to see some real sparks fly tonight! Sneaking off already?” the man grins, a little too much, as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, we were just-” Jaskier begins, laughing slightly under his breath.

“No, don’t tell me- for liability reasons and such. But good news!” he exclaims, “According to our survey, you two are our most compatible couple of the night, and the survey never lies!”

“Of course, we-” He’s cut off again, and next to him, Jaskier cringes.

“Which means, if you’re interested and it certainly seems like you are, you have won our luxury romance date package!”

“I think there’s been a mis- Sorry, what?” Geralt stops as the boy pushes a bright pink, sparkling gift card into his hand.

“$200.00 to the White Orchard, free drinks included and guaranteed reservations within the month. All you have to do is go together, have fun, and discover the romance of your lives!” The boy’s smile doesn’t falter as he continues to speak. “I’m legally obligated to tell you we have not run background checks on anyone.”

“But we’re-” Jaskier tries to speak, but not before Geralt can stop him.

“Excited!” Geralt grins, grabbing Jaskier’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Thank you!”

$200 is $200. He’s not about to let the first chance he’s had at a fine dinner in who knows how long go by because of Jaskier’s big mouth. So, with that, he leads the bard outside, their hands still firmly grasped together, and pointedly doesn’t think about why his thumb is rubbing circles into the back of his best friend’s hand. Nor does he consider how well their fingers fit together. He certainly doesn’t notice the disappointed pang in his chest when their hands separate as they step out into the cold night air outside.

One glance between them and their prize, and neither of them can stifle their laughter. “I can’t believe you almost said no to the nicest restaurant in town.” Geralt chides, elbowing Jaskier lightly as they begin to walk home.

“I can’t believe it either. It’s like the offer didn’t register in my brain yet.” Jaskier chuckles.

Geralt rolls his eyes at him “Seems to happen a lot.”

Jaskier deliberately ignores him, instead leaning over his shoulder to look at the gift card, still cradled in Geralt’s hand “It is ‘luxury romance’” Jaskier snickers, “We may have to keep up this act a bit longer.

“Apparently it’s not too difficult.” Geralt sneers “Some survey. Of course, we match; we spend all our time together.”

Jaskier’s chuckles quiet down, a silence hanging between them as he seems to think it over, “I have known you longer and more deeply than any other in my life. There’s no one I’m more comfortable with.”

“And I you.” He doesn’t often admit such things, but somehow in the silence of the night, with the way Jaskier had stated it so gently, he can’t help but know he truly means it when he agrees. After the silence becomes too heavy, Geralt clears his throat “Anyways, it’ll be fun.

“Yea, fun.”

Somehow, Jaskier’s voice comes out flat, preoccupied. When Geralt glances over at him, his lip is caught between his teeth again, his face scrunched in deep contemplation. It’s not a long walk back to their apartments, their complexes within walking distance of each other. Geralt doesn’t push, silence between them doesn't normally bother him after a night of so much noise. But try as he might, he can't help but wonder if Jaskier is bothered by the implication they were- could be a couple. Instead, he tries to focus on the sounds of the city, cool air blowing around them, leaves crinkling as they skip across the cement sidewalk.

When they approach Jaskier’s apartment complex, they stop in front of the old brick stairs leading inside, and Geralt waits for either an invitation inside or a declaration that Jaskier has changed his mind about drinks. He looks… uneasy. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and he shifts back and forth on his feet.

“Um, Geralt?” Jaskier says, voice uncertain for once.

“Hm?”

“I, um,” Geralt barely has time to see Jaskier stop biting his lip before suddenly his lips are on Geralt’s, his hands in his hair, caressing, not forceful. The witcher could pull away without much of a fuss, but he finds himself pulling Jaskier in by his waist, holding him tightly as if he’s afraid he’ll lose him if he lets go.

The kiss is equal parts gentle and desperate. He feels like he’s on fire; he feels like there’s electricity running through him, between them, and- and butterflies in his stomach, for maybe the first time in his life. It’s all so new and different, but he finds he doesn’t mind- not one bit.

When Jaskier pulls away, he finds his head feeling light “Jask,” he breathes lightly, their noses bumping each other lightly.

“Sorry, I-” Jaskier moves to step back, a spark of caution and panic glimmering in his eyes, as if he hadn’t felt Geralt’s desire in their embrace. “I thought-” he begins, but Geralt pulls him back in.

“I didn’t say stop.” He smiles softly, bringing up one hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek. It relaxes the bard, all the tension melting away to be replaced by a mischievous smile as the witcher pulls him into another kiss.

****

Rays of morning sun beam through the windows of Jaskier’s apartment, illuminating every inch of it. Below, the city is bustling with noise, but here, things are peaceful. Geralt woke up first, no surprise there. He would have been more than content to stay in bed all day, wrapped tightly in his lover’s embrace- the thought of that word describing Jaskier brings a smile to his face. But cursed with his witcher metabolism, he was dragged out of bed by a growling stomach.

Rummaging through Jaskier’s kitchen for breakfast, he barely notices the other man enter the room. When he turns around, Geralt is met with striking blue eyes watching him intently as Jaskier leans against the counter, dressed in his boxers and a hoodie he’d stollen from Geralt long, long ago. Geralt chooses not to dwell too much on the thought that he’s been sleeping in it all this time- for now, anyways.

“What are you so smug about?” Geralt grins, abandoning his task to invade Jaskier’s space.

The musician smiles, unabashedly staring as he runs his hands over Geralt’s exposed chest, settling above the hem of the sweat pants he snatched from Jaskier’s closet this morning, “Who wouldn’t be smug after getting a boyfriend as beautiful as you?” Even though they kissed all through the night, Jaskier’s lips on his send a shiver down his spine.

“You know what they say.” Geralt murmurs, kissing his way down to Jaskier’s neck.

As he presses dark marks into the pale skin of his throat, Jaskier only breathlessly hums in response “Hm?”

“The survey never lies.” He quotes mockingly.

Jaskier snorts, shoving at Geralt’s shoulder playfully, but the witcher doesn’t budge, only nuzzling in closer against his neck. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Very.”

[blackcloverdatabase]

English Translation of Novel 3: Chapter 4 – The Hero Who Disappeared (Part 1 of 2)

I’m saving the illustration that came with this chapter for the second half since it illustrates a scene near the end, but what you see above is a picture of a Yuno card that was tucked into the pages of this chapter. The other novels didn’t come with a card, so I was surprised when I saw it.

This chapter features Yuno and William going on patrol at a festival William organizes a few days before the raid on the Eye of the Midnight Sun’s hideout. While on patrol, they run into Mereoleona, Asta, Noelle, Klaus, and Mimosa, and later they run into Yami and Charlotte. Chaos ensues.

--- The Hero Who Disappeared: Part 1 ---

“Welcome! For a limited time only, all magic tools are 50% off!”

“Hey, young lady! Would you like to drop by our store? I’ll make it nice and cheap for you~”

Under a clear, sunny sky, cheerful voices called out from the many stalls that were lined up as the townspeople walked among them with smiling faces. It was the square of the royal capital, the same place which served as the center of the Star Festival. Though not as large as the Star Festival, the square was filled with stalls and makeshift stages, offering the same amenities one would expect from a small festival. However, it wasn’t merchants who were manning these stalls.

“This is a magic tool endorsed by the captain of the Aqua Deer himself!! It’s a great security device!”

“This is a meat dish made by the captain of the Green Mantis! It’s delicious and nutritious!”

These stalls were manned by Magic Knights.

“This is quite the crowd~ There’s a lot of guests, but there’s a lot of Magic Knights, too.”

“Well, the Royal Knights Selection Exam is over, and……”

Bell and Yuno conversed as they walked among the crowd. They came here today because they were ordered to patrol the event. The Magic Knights were given various tasks to run the festival, ranging from selling things at the stalls, performing short skits and games on stage, as well as handling background tasks such as patrolling and clerical work. This may seem like a strange spectacle, but there was a reason why this was happening.

“Most importantly, this was a direct announcement from Captain Vangeance. Of course a lot of people are going to gather.”

That’s right. Vangeance proposed this event to assuage the unease the citizens had thanks to repeated attacks from the Eye of the Midnight Sun and the circulation of the “Original Sin”. Yuno heard that he simply “requested cooperation” from those who belonged to the other squads, but with his personal magnetism, this many people gathered in a heartbeat.

Bell sucked on a strawberry candy Yuno bought for her and happily quipped,

“Hm~ Well, I don’t really get it, but thanks to this, I get to go on a festival date with you!”

“This event isn’t for you to have fun. It’s for the citizens.”

“……No, one of the reasons I established this festival was to give the Magic Knights a break and allow them a chance to interact with the people. It would make me very happy if you and Bell enjoyed the festival, too.”

Startled by the sudden voice from behind, Yuno and Bell looked behind them to see William Vangeance standing with an air of composure. Vangeance was the captain of the Golden Dawn, and he was the man said to be the closest to becoming the Wizard King. That the hero of the Clover Kingdom was greeting him so casually in a place like this was surprising by itself, but……

“Hey, hey, Captain Vangeance! Let me borrow your mask~!”

“I asked first! I’m gonna pluck those feathers and put them on my bear!”

“………”

Yuno and Bell were also surprised to see two children, approximately 7 to 8 years old, clinging to that hero’s feet.

“……Captain Vangeance, those kids are……?”

“Yup, just as you see. It seems that they were interested in my mask, so they approached me, and…...”

From behind his mask, he answered Yuno’s question with his usual elegant smile……. No, rather than his usual smile, he answered with a considerably strained smile.

“……Anyway, can you please help me?”

“Jeez~ Why do we have to save our captain from getting bullied by a bunch of kids the very second we get here~”

“Stop that, Bell.”

“……Ha ha, sorry about that. I like kids, but I’m not very good at handling them.”

After Yuno and Bell managed to pull those children off of their captain, they continued their patrol together with Vangeance.  As if to regain his composure, Vangeance cleared his throat before speaking.

“Also, thank you for indulging my selfish request.”

“Selfish?”

When Yuno asked him this in return, Vangeance had a complicated expression on his face as he nodded.

“Though the Selection Exam may be over, the day you will be launching a surprise attack on the Eye of the Midnight Sun’s base is imminent. I’m thanking you because you came to my event during such an important time.”

“……I don’t think you’re being selfish at all.”

As he spoke, Yuno looked at all the people around him.

“I’m sure those children felt the same way. The townspeople all look like they’re having fun interacting with the Magic Knights like this. There has just been one horrible incident after another, so isn’t it fine to do something fun like this every once and a while?”

From the citizens’ point of view, this was a rare chance to interact so closely with the Magic Knights, the heroes that all citizens strive to become. That by itself makes this event enjoyable for them. Even the anxieties caused by the Eye of the Midnight Sun and Original Sin will be lessened to some degree.

“……I see. I’m happy to hear that from you.”

Vangeance replied, looking a little bit happy when he smiled. Yuno nodded before continuing,

“Also, just as you were saying earlier, the Magic Knights also look like they’re having fun.”

The faces of the Knights manning the stalls looked even more lively than usual. Being a Magic Knight is usually a tough job, so this was probably incredibly relaxing for them. Today looks to be a fun day for Magic Knights and citizens alike. That’s what Yuno thought, but……

“Yeah. It would be nice if today ended as nothing more than a fun day…...”

Vangeance said with a mysterious look on his face before lowering his voice so that only Yuno and Bell could hear him.

“There’s something I must tell you…… it has been reported that a person in possession of the Original Sin may have infiltrated today’s event.”

“!!”

They stiffened upon having such a serious matter suddenly disclosed to them.

“…Wait, w-what! We should evacuate everyone immed-!”

Bell raised her voice in a panic, but Yuno covered her mouth before Vangeance continued,

“I would very much like to do that, but if we do that so suddenly, everyone will panic, which may fuel the Original Sin. Also, this is only a possibility. We should gather more intel before making any large-scale moves.”

‘Even so, it’s dangerous to leave such a thing alone,’ Yuno thought, but he couldn’t come up with an alternative. To begin with, that information was too vague, so there was no way to know what move they should make. If there’s one thing they should do, it’s……

“In other words, we have no choice but to continue patrolling while searching for the Original Sin…… right?”

“That’s correct. I should also add that very few Magic Knights know about this. If too many people knew, our movements might begin to look unnatural, which could expose us to the owner of the Original Sin…… You two have more experiencing fighting the Original Sin than anyone else, so I decided I should tell you.”

Yuno still wasn’t satisfied, but he knew that there was no helping that.

“I understand. Is there anything else we know about the enemy?”

“Yes. You really do catch on quickly. I’ll tell you the details as we walk.”

After saying this, Vangeance’s voice once again sounded apologetic.

“I know I keep saying this, but I’m truly sorry about getting you involved in all this. I wanted you to be able to enjoy today’s event, too, so for this to happen is…...”

“There’s no helping that. It’s not like it’s your fault……”

If anything, he might be the most hurt by this. Any time he wasn’t busy with his duties as Captain was spent preparing for today’s event, only for all that to be spoiled by the Original Sin. Yuno meant for his words to be sympathetic, but, for some reason, Vangeance paused for an unnatural amount of time before finally responding,

“……Yeah, you’re right.”

He almost sounded as if he was at a loss for words when he said this, making Yuno feel uneasy. Then, suddenly,

“S-someone, anyone!! Please save me!!”

Boosted by amplification magic, a woman’s screams resounded throughout the venue.

It sounded like the scream came from the direction of the stage where the results of the Star Festival were announced. The scream’s timing was so uncanny that Yuno and the others raced to the stage as they prepared for battle. And, when they reached the front row of the stage……

“I’m a village girl named Mimosa!! I’m being chased by evil mages!!”

What they saw was Mimosa running around on stage, reading her lines with an unbelievably monotone voice. Then, several other Magic Knights went on stage, some acting as evil mages chasing Mimosa and others moving the background scenery around. It seemed that they stumbled upon a children’s play. After sighing with a bitter smile, Vangeance joked,  

“Ha ha, their timing was amazing…... Wait, it could be that these “evil mages” are being manipulated by the owner of the Original Sin.”

“If that were the case, it sure would make things easier for us.”

Yuno replied to his joke lightheartedly, but he, too, was smiling bitterly internally. The play’s timing was certainly bad, but it released the tension that was between them earlier, so he was honestly glad that it happened. Also, watching swarms of young children tottle around the stage as the play began brought a smile to his face. To protect those children’s smiles, they should arrest the Original Sin as soon as possible. Holding these feelings close to his heart, Yuno turned away from the stage to leave. At that moment, Mimosa pointed to the wing of the stage and said,

“Ah, it looks like someone came to save me! It must be the Magic Knight of Justice!”

The children started cheering with excitement at the words “Magic Knight of Justice”. Amidst those cheers, the person who entered on stage as that “Magic Knight of Justice” was……

“……Wait, look, Asta! That’s your cue! Get over there right now!”

“………Huh? My cue? What should I do?”

“………”

The Magic Knight of Justice was Asta, who made his long-awaited debut on stage…… or rather, he was dragged onto stage by Noelle with an even dumber look on his face than usual, so dumb that it was practically audible. It was like watching an old man, causing Bell to, without thinking, talk to Noelle from beneath the stage.

“Hey, Noelle…… what…… that is, why is he acting like an old man?”

“U-uh……I don’t really know, either……”

Noelle said with a sigh, sorrow hanging around her like a wife exhausted from taking care of her aging husband.

“The shock of being unable to fight Yuno in the finals of the Selection Exam turned him into this, and……”

“And so… he turned into that……?”

That explanation didn’t make sense to Bell and Yuno, and it didn’t make sense to Noelle, the person doing the explaining, either. It was a mystery to everyone. When Asta noticed Yuno, he spoke to him as if he were going senile.

“Aah, Yuno…… perfect timing. Can you replace me as the Magic Knight of Justice? Since you got first place at the Selection Exam, you’d be a better fit for the role…… Ah, sorry, should I use ‘Mr.’ when I speak to you?”

“Stop that. That kind of subservience doesn’t suit you. Hurry up and snap out of it.”

“After you defeat the villain, you have to shout your usual catchphrase. So, after you beat the enemy, you should yell “I’m Yuno, you know!?”.”

“Even your memory is all messed up. I’ve never said such a lame catchphrase in my life.”

While Yuno and Asta where bickering, the audience started getting antsy. It was only natural. They were told that the Magic Knight of Justice was coming, and they got some guy acting like an old man. Wanting to fix the now awkward atmosphere, Mimosa said in a panic,

“E-everyone! You’ll see this in the next act, but since Asta has gotten himself into a pinch, a new Magic Knight of Justice will rush to the scene! The person playing this role is a very famous captain of the Magic Knights! Also, we’ve made arrangements for all you little ones to be able to get on stage and fight the evil mages alongside them, so please don’t leave yet!”

“You’re being too desperate! Also, stop saying things like “role” and “arrangements”!”

Bell criticized Mimosa, but, despite her criticism, the kids were showing excitement once again.

“Cooool! We get to meet a Captain!”

“Hey, papa! Take me closer to the front! I wanna fight, too!”

Tiny voices piped up here and there as more and more children gathered at the bottom of the stage. It seemed that the title “Captain” wasn’t just for show after all. Not letting this chance pass them by, Klaus instructed Mimosa from behind the stage to have the children call for the captain.  Mimosa nodded, then turned toward the audience and exclaimed,

“Now, everyone! Let’s call for the captain with our loudest voices!! Ready, set…”

Mimosa counted down, then all the children in the assembly hall shouted together. The one who was summoned by those sweet voices was……

“WAH-HAH-HAAH! DO NOT WORRY, LITTLE VILLAGE GIRL! I, MEREOLEONA-SAMA, THE MAGIC KNIGHT OF JUSTICE, WILL DEVOUR ALL THOSE EVIL MAGES FOR YOU WITHOUT LEAVING A SINGLE TRACE!!”

“………”

A lioness. She walked on stage with a swagger and spoke in an intimidating tone as she laughed aloud. She was far from what a “Magic Knight of Justice” should look like. The children’s smiles froze, and they began to shiver with fear. Not seeming to notice this, she surveyed the audience with stone cold eyes and then, with a ferocious smirk, said,

“Ho hoh….. We have a lot of good kids here! Which of you friends are ready to fight beside me!? Is it you!? Is it YOU!?”

“Please wait for a moment, Mereoleona. I think you might be misunderstanding something here……”

Vangeance couldn’t help but interject fairly loudly from the bottom of the stage. He was aware that interjecting like this was incredibly out of character for him, but, at this rate, the reputation of the Magic Knights will be significantly damaged. Mereoleona had no way of knowing his thoughts, so she flared up into a fiery rage at him.

“You bastard…… are you insane, Vangeance!?  Talking to a performer who’s in the middle of their act on stage like that! Have you no manners!?”

“Well, from those children’s point of view, something much worse was happening right in front of them. Could you make your performance a little more kid friendly?”

“You fool! Are you saying I should hold back just because they’re kids!? A Magic Knight should always use all their power, no matter what!”

“Yes, I know. I know, so use all your power to imagine this for just one moment. Imagine that you’ve been told the “Magic Knight of Justice” is coming, but instead you get a “maniac with stone cold eyes”. Now, how would you feel about that?”

While the two were engaged in their progress-less exchange, Klaus approached them from the back of the stage and, with his fingers at his temple, informed them,

“……I’m sorry, you two. The play has been canceled. Let’s start working on cleaning everything up.”

“Cancelled…… hey, wait a second! What about all the kids who were looking forward to the play!”

While Bell was protesting, Klaus pointed his finger behind everyone and said,

“……And, where are those children you speak of?”

“Ah……”

Before they knew it, the audience had disappeared from their seats. They must have seen their chance to escape when Vangeance spoke up to Mereoleona. The parents in the audience took their kids and fled, almost as if they were escaping the clutches of a lioness. When Mereoleona noticed that her audience had disappeared, she punched the ground in vexation.

“Tch…… I’m sorry, everyone!! Though Vangeance was wrong for spouting off idiotic nonsense, the fact remains that I’m the one that allowed him to dampen the audience’s enthusiasm and cause them to leave! This is all my fault!”

“Um, Mereoleona, this is hard for me to say, but you’re absolutely right about it being your fault. Except, I’m not in the wrong. I’m not even saying this out of some sense of self-protection. I’m simply not in the wrong here.”

Mereoleona stood up with renewed determination, completely ignoring Vangeance’s protests.

“However, another audience will gather soon, so don’t worry! I’ll make up for my blunder with my own two hands!”

She proclaimed loudly. Then, she declared so stupidly loud that Yuno wouldn’t be surprised if the entire venue could hear her,

“Listen up, people! From now on, I will teach you all how to defend yourselves by burning your opponents! I’m about to demonstrate by using the other Magic Knights here as my opponents during the show, so you all should gather around the stage!!”

And so, everyone there had to use all their might to stop her.

  “……That was quite dangerous.”

“……Yes. Well, let’s just be glad the Original Sin never got involved in the fight.”

“……I’m still not glad about it.”

Said Vangeance, Yuno, then Bell as they continued their patrol. Their first interaction with her was tiring enough, but stopping Mereoleona’s rampage used up all their physical strength. After telling her the Original Sin might be at the venue, they somehow managed to calm her down, but that was only after everyone exhausted several days’ worth of energy stopping her. Yuno wanted nothing more than to go home, lie down, and rest, but he couldn’t say that out loud, so he forcibly distracted himself by asking Vangeance,

“So, do you know anything else about the Original Sin?”

“……Ah, sorry. That’s right. We were just talking about that.”

Their discussion, which had been nearly forgotten because of the impact the lioness left on them, resumed.

“First of all, we know the Original Sin is here because several Knights who have had run-ins with the Original Sin before have sensed its mana at this venue. However, its presence is so weak that we can’t pinpoint its location unless we can get several magic detection specialists in a concentrated area.”

“I see…… but, if that’s the case, can’t we narrow down its location by following the source of its mana?”

“Of course, we have tried that, but it seems that its mana is incredibly unstable, so it repeatedly appears and disappears. That’s why it’s difficult to pinpoint with mana perception alone. If we could narrow down the number of suspects to only a few people, then……”

“Is that so……?”

Yuno contemplated Vangeance’s words. The other times he has faced the Original Sin, being able to sense mana was a powerful advantage, but it’s a useless skill if that mana cannot be followed. As before, the only way to guarantee victory will be to make direct contact with the owner of the Original Sin and destroy it.

‘With so many people here, will that even be possible……?’ Yuno thought with a troubled face. While he was thinking, Vangeance pointed to a corner of the assembly hall and said,

“Speak of the devil…… He’s one of those who sensed the presence of the Original Sin.”

Where he pointed, several tables were lined up and spaced at equal intervals. There was a number of children using them to draw pictures. It appeared that one of the events at the festival was a drawing class. There was a man reclining in the corner who seemed to be in charge.

It was the Captain of the Black Bulls, Yami Sukehiro. When he noticed Vangeance, he raised his head from the art book he was reading and looked up toward them.

“……Oh, it’s golden weird mask guy. Hey, golden weird mask guy. Actually, golden weird mask guy is a pain in the ass to say. Can I stop?”

‘You’re the one who came up with that nickname, you know,’ Vangeance thought to himself with a bitter smile. He said as he watched the children,

“I was surprised when I heard you were doing an event geared toward children, but it looks like it’s going well.”

“Yeah. I was thinkin’ all I’d have to do is put out some paint and paper, and then I wouldn’t have to do anythin’ else, but a lot more kids gathered than I thought there’d be. I guess a cute guy like me summons more cuteness.”

Just as Yami said (?), there were many kids gathered around his corner, drawing and having fun as they talked with Magna Swing and Luck Voltia. There really was nothing but art supplies and paper on the table, and they could use it all free of charge. Perhaps it was that simplicity and ease of access that made his corner so popular. Its popularity probably had nothing to do with Yami’s “cuteness”. As Yuno was thinking such trivial thoughts, a boy and girl who were drawing toddled toward them.

“Ah! It’s Captain Vangeance!”

“Aah. Those two are the same kids as earlier…”

Bell nodded lightly.

‘Those two are the same kids who were bullying…… no, admiring Vangeance earlier. If I recall, their names were….’

“Hey, Al, Silka. Were you two drawing, too?”

Before Yuno could remember their names, Vangeance kneeled down and greeted them with a smile.

That’s right. The boy’s name was Al, and the girl’s name was Silka. The two were brother and sister. They lived in a village situated at the edge of the Common Realm, but today they asked their parents to come to this event so that they could meet the Magic Knights.

Al nodded happily and held his drawing out to Vangeance.

“Yeah! I drew us playing at my village! I drew it really good, so I’m giving it to you!”

“Are you sure? You two worked really hard to draw this, right?”

“Yeah! This is payment for letting us play with you earlier!”

Vangeance thanked Al and accepted his drawing, his expression more joyful than usual.

‘He really wasn’t lying when he said he liked kids,’ Yuno thought.

……However, Yuno also felt a touch of unease as he watched him. For some reason, there was a tinge of sadness in his smile. As Yuno began to feel such doubts, Silka came to his feet and offered him her drawing.

“Then, I’ll give mine to Yuno-niichan!”

“……Ah, thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

Just as Al said, the drawing depicted the two of them playing.  They included small details in their drawings, like their chestnut-colored hair, Al’s book pouch, Silka’s hair ornament, and more. Yuno accepted the drawing with a smile, making Silka’s face to turn red as she returned to Al’s side. They took each other’s hands and ran away cheerfully.

“See ya, Captain Vangeance! Have a good day at work!”

“Thanks! You two be careful not to trip and fall!”

Vangeance waved goodbye at them, already returning to his usual gentle self.

‘Was it just my imagination?’ Yuno wondered. As Yuno was lightly questioning himself, Yami started talking to Vangeance with his usual lax attitude.

“Hey, are you kiddin’ me, Vangeance? You never told me you had a love child, let alone two. They aren’t wearin’ weird golden masks, are they? You should make weird golden masks for them, too.”

“So, Yami? Have you been able to sense the Original Sin since then?”

Vangeance ignored Yami’s joke, carefully putting the drawing away in his book pouch as he asked his question. Yami shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Same as usual. I can sense it every now and then, but just as I catch a hint of it, it disappears. Well, rather than mana, I’m readin’ ki, but I think you’d get the same results either way. Luck was sayin’ the exact same thing, earlier.”

“So, all we know is that it’s still here. Understood. Even so, for the time being, continue to try sensing for it at regular intervals. Yuno and I will do the same.”

“Sure…… wait, huh?

His reply was flat, but then he leaned his head toward Vangeance, studying his face.

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, just now, I was sensin’ the ki in this area real lightly, and…”

He continued. With cigarette in hand, he pointed his finger at Vangeance.

“I feel a lingering sensation of the Original Sin’s ki from you. You happen to know why?”

“……Huh?”

As Yami spoke, Yuno half-reflexively focused his mana perception. Though it was very slight, he could certainly feel the mana of the Original Sin from Vangeance. It was so weak, that Yuno would never have noticed if it weren’t for Yami pointing it out…… it was like a lingering scent. If he possessed the Original Sin Grimoire, then the mana he felt from him would have been much stronger, so he couldn’t be the owner of that grimoire……. No, still, if he was using some technique to suppress his own mana, then it’s possible that…..

“Ah, before the Selection Exam, Julius secured an Original Sin grimoire intact. This morning, I touched it as I was examining it. It might be mana from that.”

Vangeance explained without even breaking a sweat, interrupting Yuno’s thoughts.

‘Am I stupid? Of course he doesn’t have it.’

Yuno calmed back down. That’s right. There’s no way he could be the owner of the Original Sin Grimoire. Even if it was only for a moment, Yuno felt ashamed for letting his mind run away with such strange ideas. Yami nodded his head and said,

“I see. Sometimes, when you touch something, its mana and ki can stick to you…. Ah, I just realized. That’s gonna make it even more of a pain in the ass to find this thing. Why’d you have to come here, you bastard!? I’m gonna smash your mask into pieces and use them to decorate the walls of a hipster cafe!”

“The way you express anger is sometimes rather mystifying, but I’d prefer it if you stop…... Anyway, please continue surveying the area.”

Vangeance said with a wry smile before turning back toward Yuno and Bell. Upon doing so, he was surprised to see a certain someone approaching him and Yami.

“Va…… Vangeance…… you, why are you here……!?”

It was the Captain of the Blue Roses, Charlotte Roselei. For some reason, when she made eye contact with Vangeance, she froze in place with a startle. Upon closer examination, she was holding a basket full of cookies.

‘What’s going on here……?’ he thought. Despite his uncertainty, Vangeance decided to try greeting her, but then Charlotte’s face turned bright red as she stuttered with an extraordinarily high-pitched voice,

“I-I, uh, funny story! My squad held a cooking class, and we ended up making too many cookies! I thought it would be a waste to throw them all away, s-so I thought that I could give them to Yami! It’s not like I have an ulterior motive or anything! I’m just trying to get rid of them!”

“I didn’t ask you anything, though……”

‘This situation feels very familiar…...’ secretly, Bell was experiencing Deja-vu. Yami folded his arms and looked at Charlotte.

“The cookies are for me? From you? Why have you been actin’ so girly lately?”

“What!? You…...!”

Charlotte was about to reach for the handle of her sword, but she reconsidered, stopping her hand and shaking her head. She walked up to Yami and said,

“Just take it already. I’m busy. I’d rather not waste my time on things like this.”

And, with a straight face, presented the basket of cookies to him. Unlike before, there was no agitation in her voice or mannerisms. She was her usual dignified self. Although, that was only true on the outside.

‘…...Y-yes! I gave it to him! I wasn’t sure what to do when I saw Vangeance here, but I managed to give it him! Ha ha, I’m amazing!’

Internally, she was frolicking about like a schoolgirl. However, she we careful not to show that on her face. Charlotte had been reflecting on her recent actions. She has always allowed herself to get agitated in front of Yami, so she decided to work hard at not letting those feelings show. However, perhaps it was because she has had many opportunities to make contact with him as of late, but she hasn’t been able to hide her unrest, and her behavior has become strange. The times she has nearly attacked him in attempt to hide this have only increased.

‘This isn’t good,’ Charlotte thought. She admonished herself once more and vowed that she would maintain her self-control in front of Yami.

‘No matter what might happen, I won’t allow myself to get upset in front of him ever again!’ She told herself this over and over again, but then,

“Oh, thanks.”

Yami said this as he shoveled several cookies into his mouth.

“Huh? They’re good, like normal cookies. What the hell? Did you seriously make these?”

“……Yes.”

Charlotte responded with a straight face, but,

‘I-I’m so happy! To think hearing the man I love praise my cooking would make me so happy!’

Internally, she was soaring. She was trying desperately not to let that show, however,

“I seriously thought your cookin’ was gonna suck, but I guess you’re a proper lady after all. Hey, Vangeance, Yuno, you guys should try some, too. They’re surprisingly good. Surprisingly.”

“……Hmph. You’re as rude as usual. I cannot tell if you’re trying to praise me or insult me.”

Once again, Charlotte responded with a straight face, but,

‘He thinks it’s so good that he’s telling other people to try them!? He thinks they’re that delicious!? I’m a little annoyed that any men other than Yami are eating them, but still, I’m so happy!’

Internally, she was flying even higher than before, and thus she was trying even more desperately not to let her feelings be known. However, then Yami said,

“I’ve gotta say……. I could eat these cookies every day. Seriously.”

“………”

‘Ah……. I’m done for.’

Her excitement seemed to overflow from her whole body until, finally, she fell backwards.

BAM!

The back of her head hit the stone pavement, knocking her unconscious.

“Eeeeeeeeh!? Wait, what just happened!? Are you okay!? Hey!?”

Yami picked up her body, holding her in her arms while unusually upset. However…… there, an even more terrible incident unfolded.

“B-Big Sis! Are you okay!? What happened!?”

Several members of the Blue Rose, with Sol at the forefront, rushed toward Charlotte. They surrounded her and glared sharply at Yami. Sol took one step forward toward Yami, her body swaying as if she were half-conscious. Representing the entire group, Sol quietly informed him,

“When Big Sis suddenly disappeared, we began a search for her……. What is the meaning of this, Captain of the Black Bulls……? Why has Big Sis collapsed before you?”

“That’s what I’d like to know! She just suddenly collapsed all on her own, and-

“HUUUUUH!? So, you did do something to her, didn’t you!?”

“As I’ve said, you’ve got it all wrong! It was all on her own, and…. Wait, don’t attack me!”

After that, a brawl broke out between the Black Bulls and the Blue Roses. However, Charlotte woke up soon after and cleared Yami’s name. Still, thanks to the uproar they caused, not a single person remained in Yami’s drawing class.

“………That was quite dangerous.”

“………Yes.”

“………I’m sick of this.”

Said Vangeance, Yuno, then Bell as they continued their patrol. They had a hard time stopping those girls’ rampage.  Though it only took a few dozen seconds before Charlotte woke up and said, “……Sorry. I was just feeling a little lightheaded. It’s nothing important,” their brawl was fierce and merciless, so it was exceedingly difficult to stop them without destroying the town themselves. Moreover, their brawl, coupled with the uproar that Mereoleona caused, was starting to make the citizens who came here afraid of the Magic Knights. One of the goals of this event was to dispel any doubts the citizens had about the Magic Knights, but their doubts were only increasing. On top of that, they haven’t found a single clue toward dealing with the main problem at hand, the Original Sin Grimoire. With such negative thoughts floating in his head, exhausted by the day’s events, Yuno muttered to himself,

“Is the Order of the Magic Knights…... really okay…...?”

“Ha ha. Certainly, a lot of events have happened in rapid succession that would make one a little uneasy. No, maybe “very uneasy” would be more accurate?”

“Ah, no, sorry. That was a little careless of me to say. I mean…...”

Realizing that Vangeance overheard him, he hurriedly tried to explain himself. Since he somehow managed to work his way to be the person in the Golden Dawn who collected the most stars last term, he thought that he shouldn’t complain in front of the captain. With a gentle smile, Vangeance waved his hand as if to expel Yuno’s worries.

“I don’t mind…… No, well…… this is a good opportunity, so I guess I’ll go ahead and ask you.”

Vangeance, too, spoke so softly that one would think he was talking to himself.  

“Let me ask you, Yuno. What do you think about the Magic Knights and this country?”

“Huh……?”

Yuno and Bell reflexively looked at each other. His superior was asking him what he thought about his workplace and the thing he is supposed to protect. That’s not all that strange by itself, but it seemed a little abrupt. Realizing what Yuno was thinking, Vangeance shrugged his shoulders and said,

“It wasn’t meant to be a deep question. It’s just that many members of the Magic Knights, myself included, have high hopes for you. I was simply curious about your thoughts.”

Yuno lowered his head as he thought. It’s an abstract question, but if all he’s curious about is what he thinks, then……

“I think there are many problems in both of them that must be solved, but, even so, I love the Magic Knights and this country. Everyone in the Magic Knights is…… well, at first, they were extremely critical of me, but, lately, they all seem to recognize me as a friend. It feels very comfortable. Ever since the Star Festival, it feels as if the citizens have accepted me, too.”

Yuno remembered the smiles and cheers of the people at the Star Festival, filling Yuno with warmth as he spoke.

“I want to fight to protect the people who accepted me. That’s what I think.”

At first, Yuno only thought about fulfilling his dreams. However, these feelings gradually grew as he continued to fulfill his duties. Every time a person thanked him, every time a person smiled, he felt that he wanted to protect them. Those were his truest feelings from the bottom of his heart, but was that answer good enough……? Yuno thoughts were such as he watched Vangeance, who replied with a satisfied expression,

“I feel the same way. I love the Magic Knights, and I love this country, too. In the Magic Knights, I have comrades and subordinates I can rely on, and I have a superior I want to be like…… Julius-sama. Moreover, this is the country where my comrades and I were born and raised. These feelings are not so grandiose that I would call them patriotism, but I feel a dept of gratitude. In order to repay that dept, I want to protect this country and its people forever…… I truly do.”

For some reason, his expression became sorrowful for the second time that day.

‘……As I thought, Vangeance is definitely acting strange today.’

He was clad in his usual elegantly dignified aura, but there were moments when Yuno could feel a terrible fragility in him, as if he could simply fade away. However, these moments passed by so quickly that it was hard for Yuno to bring up. In the end, all he could do was worry.  

“Anyway, just as you said, Yuno, I believe there are many problems in both that must be solved.”

While Yuno was thinking, Vangeance returned to normal and replied with his usual tone. Yuno understood that thinking about it wasn’t going to get him anywhere, so he stopped mulling over it and listened to Vangeance speak.

“Discrimination against commoners and peasants, the secret maneuvers of those who act only for their own self-interest…… there’s many things we must do to make the country and the Magic Knights better, to make them something you can love even more.”

“……I agree.”

Yuno unintentionally responded with a severe tone of voice. This was because he and Asta have had many painful experiences because of the discrimination that peasants face. Understanding the reason behind Yuno’s heavy reply, he put his hand on Yuno’s shoulder as he continued,

“I’m looking forward to what you will do to solve these problems. If you demonstrate that even a peasant can shine if you hone your strength, you will not only eliminate the discrimination peasants face, you will also become the hope of the populace. I apologize for using you like an advertisement, but I intend to keep you busy.”

“Leave it to us~! After all, not only does Yuno have a four-leaf grimoire, he’s also a genius who’s loved by me! We’ll crush the walls of social status into tiny little pieces as many times as it takes!”

Interjected a certain wind spirit who didn’t read the mood of the conversation.

“Bell, house.”

Yuno tried to make her be quiet, but her outburst made Vangeance chuckle.

“I’m sure you will.”

He agreed with her as he laughed.

“Despite that, no, maybe because of that…... I’m a little worried.”

Once again, though only slightly, something seemed to cloud his usual gentle expression.

“……Right. This may be a little off-topic, but your goal is to become the Wizard King, right, Yuno?”

“Yes.”

Yuno answered immediately. He had decided that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, so he would always answer without hesitation, no matter who asked him. Vangeance nodded his head before continuing,

“What are you willing to lay on the line for your goal?”

“Anything.”

“Including your own life?”

“As long as I get to be the Wizard King for a bit before I die.”

“I see. Then, what about the life of another?”

“Huh……?”

“Let’s say you could save people’s lives in exchange for your own. What would you do?”

Yuno found himself unable to respond to such an unexpected question. With a wry smile, yet somehow incredibly sincerely, he informed Yuno,

“……I’m sorry for asking such a cruel question. However, because of your strength, there will be many situations in the future where you will need to make all kinds of choices, especially if you are aiming to become the Wizard King. In some of those cases, deciding on what is the right choice will be difficult…… In fact, there will surely come a time where, like my earlier question, you’ll have to make a choice when there is no right answer.”

It was as if Vangeance was speaking from experience, no, as if he were in such a situation at this very moment.

‘In his position, he has probably had to make dozens of decisions where there wasn’t a right choice,’ Yuno thought. And, just as he says, the time when Yuno will have to make such a choice will surely come as well.

‘When the time comes, what will I choose…….?’

“You don’t have to think so hard about it. It’s just that, since its possible you might end up in a situation like that someday, I wanted to know what you thought…… Whenever that happens, I hope you will always be able make a decision you can stick behind.”

Vangeance briefly paused before continuing. In that moment, Yuno turned his head to the side in doubt, still unsure of what his decision would be.

“If you don’t know what the right choice is…… in times like those, make a decision that you can be satisfied with. If you do that, you’ll be able to take responsibility for the consequences of your decision, even if those consequences are bad. Maybe this is already obvious to you, but for people as powerful as you, every decision you make has a big influence on your surroundings…… it will make me happy if you keep that in mind.”

“……Yes.”

Yuno answered with uncertainty. With that, Vangeance stretched lightly before saying,

“……Now then, that was quite a long talk, so I’m thirsty. Let’s buy something to drink.”

“Okay, then I’ll-

“No, I’ve already forced you to listen to me talk, so I’ll go buy them.”

Vangeance interrupted gently before quickly making his way to the juice stand. Yuno reluctantly sat down on a nearby bench and, for the second time that day, sighed briefly.

“……Hey, Yuno! Don’t worry about it! That question was just way too mean!”

“Well, you’re right, but…...”

As Bell continued to speak, Yuno became lost in his thoughts. Since the day he decided to become the Wizard King, he has worked single-mindedly to make his goal come true. No matter what hardships or unfairness stood in his way, he would find a way to push them aside, or, at least, that was his intention. However, he couldn’t answer Vangeance’s question. Even now, he still didn’t know the answer. He wasn’t prepared. The fact he still didn’t know the answer filled him with frustration. He felt as if he was just told he wasn’t working hard enough, or that he was too naïve.

“Oh, come on!”

As if she could sense Yuno’s state of mind, Bell opened his book pouch without permission, opened his grimoire, and pushed it against his face.

“Huh!? What the heck are you do-

“Look! After getting your grimoire, you filled so many pages in just half a year! No ordinary person would be able to do that! This is proof of your weird fixation on trying too hard!”

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to compliment me or insult me.”

“To make matters worse, your legs are long, your eyes are like almonds, and your cuticles are flawless! Everything about you is amazing, you hottie!”

“As I said, are those compliments or insults? You’re throwing compliments at me with all the tension of a tirade, so it’s confusing.”

Though Bell was annoying, for once her rampage helped him. The thoughts that were plaguing him earlier were the type that do not stop once you let yourself start thinking about them. He was grateful that she forced him to stop thinking about it. The captain’s question was one that should be taken very seriously, but it was not something he needed to think about right now. Yuno wasn’t sure if this was what Bell was trying to say, but, at the very least, that was the conclusion she led him to.

“……I understand, Bell……. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome! I don’t really get why you’re thanking me, though!”

As they continued their usual exchange, Bell pulled Yuno’s grimoire away from his face. When she did, Yuno noticed that the drawing Silka gave him earlier fell out. He had put the drawing in his book pouch, so when Bell pulled his grimoire out from it, it fell by accident. When he picked it up, he patted the soil of off it and moved to put the drawing back in his book pouch, but then,

“……Hm?”

When he looked at the drawing, there was something about it that made him a bit uneasy.

“………..!”

And then, he realized it.

Even so, there were many holes in his hypothesis. If he was right, then his opponent made a rather careless mistake. However, if his opponent really was that careless, then it’s possible that……

“I’m sorry for taking so long. Julius-sama ended up roping me into a conversation.”

Vangeance returned with three juices in hand. Yuno didn’t respond to his voice, only staring at him in silence. It would be too hasty of him to mark him as a suspect. However, if his hypothesis was correct, then that would explain what Yami was saying earlier. To find more evidence, first, he should……

“……Captain Vangeance.”

With tension rising, Yuno turned toward Vangeance and uttered these words,

“Captain, may I see what’s in your book pouch?”

“……….”

In response to Yuno’s question, Vangeance smiled back at Yuno with his usual elegant smile from beneath his mask.

……No. This wasn’t his usual smile. There was a hidden meaning behind it.

 — To be continued in Part 2 —

As usual, expect the second half next week! Did any of you catch what Yuno noticed when he looked at the drawing?

I know I keep gushing on about how great each chapter is, but the chapters in this book are just too good! This chapter was just too cute! William being a total sucker around kids was cute! Yuno thinking about how much he wants to protect those kids was cute! Yami’s class being a hit with kids was cute! And Mereoleona… well, I don’t know if I would describe her scene with those kids as “cute”, but I loved it nonetheless!

I think this might be the most progress Charlotte has ever had toward her relationship with Yami. She actually managed to give him something she made, and he liked it!

I’m also glad Yuno is hesitating in his answer toward William’s question. He may be a Magic Knight, so it may be his duty to sacrifice his life for the citizens, but he’s only about 16 years old at this point in the story. It would be strange for a 16-year-old to be okay with sacrificing his life.

[wonderstvrs]

Keep You Safe | Damian Wayne x Female!Reader

Damian hires a bodyguard for Reader without letting her know. Unfortunately, it does the complete opposite of what he intended it to do.

WORD COUNT: 3,274

WARNINGS: Strong language, Mentions of kidnapping, Mentions of alcohol, Violence

This was requested by my baby @sidewalk-sidekick​. Thanks for being my first request babe uwu. I think I’m kind of worried that Damian is OOC, but you know what, that’s why I’m practicing. Damian is older than he is in the comics, around 19 or 20. I also really love New Alexandria (the bookstore/cafe mentioned here) so be prepared to be seeing that pretty often.

There is a man watching you.

You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his eyes on you. You were on your way to the monthly open-mic being hosted at New Alexandria, the bookshop/café that you worked at. As one of their baristas, you were required to work the event, which attracted a pretty big crowd that composed mostly of pretentious poets or sad writers having existential crises. As your boyfriend, Damian, would describe them.

Usually, he would take you to New Alexandria himself, driving one of the fancy cars you specifically remember his father told him to never touch. But tonight, he had some mandatory family thing at the Manor. You always tell him that you could get to shop yourself, that he didn’t come all the way into the city to pick you up. He always shut down your protests, claiming that it wasn’t safe for you to be out alone at night, especially in a city like Gotham. Eventually, you stopped arguing, silently grateful that you could avoid all the creeps that lurked on the streets.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you try to stave off the panic threatening to overwhelm you. You tell yourself to relax. You were two stops away from the shop. Maybe if you don’t look at him, he won’t do anything. Right?

Not being able to help yourself, you take a look at the man with the corner of your eye. He was sitting a few seats behind you on your left. He had a plain black t-shirt with a black leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and a green beanie on his head. If you didn’t know any better, he looked like any other person heading to open-mic.

What if he is just going to the open-mic and you’re being an overdramatic wimp? You take another look at him and wait. You recognized him. He was standing a few blocks from your apartment when you left earlier tonight. He was by the newsstand looking through this morning’s paper before he got into the bus with you.

Oh god. Are you going to die tonight? Shit. This man is going to kidnap you for ransom because he probably knows that you’re Damian Wayne’s girlfriend and then he’s probably going torture you while you wait and oh my god what if Damian won’t come for you what if—

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone going off. You turn it over to see Damian’s name. Your finger hovers above the “Answer” button, debating on whether or not to answer it. You didn’t want to have to ruin his night if you told him about the guy. Maybe if you didn’t answer he’d think that you were at work already.

The need to hear his voice overwhelms that other part of you and you cave. You bring the phone to your ear and take a deep breath to collect yourself, focusing your attention on your boyfriend.

“Please save me from my family,” he says the moment the call connects. There were muffled screams from the background and what you think is Mario Kart music. The sound of the chaos makes you forget that, for a second, you could possibly be dead in the next few minutes.

“Is that Mario Kart?” You ask him, an amused laugh coming out of your mouth. He huffs on the other side. “And are you hiding out in the bathroom?”

“You would too if you had to suffer through Grayson’s high-pitched screeching,” he replies. You can practically see the expression of disgust on his face. You laughed again. There’s a pause from him before he says softly into receiver, “I wish I was with you instead.”

Your heart warms at the sincerity in his voice. Dick tells you that back then Damian wasn’t the type to freely profess his feelings. He had come a long way from the angry ten-year-old boy that Dick said he was. You knew firsthand how deeply Damian loved and the effort he makes in communicating his emotions.

“Me too,” you tell him, taking another peek at the man. The man had looked away from you and was staring out the window, seemingly admiring the view. You let out a breath of relief. Maybe he wasn’t following you. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

“Are you all right?” Damian asks. Worry tinged his voice and you didn’t need to see him to know that he’s frowning.

“Yeah, Dames. I’m fine.” The bus is slowing down and you look out to see the stop near New Alexandria. “The bus just got here. I’ll see you later?”

“Of course.” He pauses, then says, “Be safe.”

Over the last few months, you’ve learned that Damian says simple things, but with hidden meanings. It’s the most you’ve read in between the lines since your high school literature classes, but it paid off. You’re confident that you’re now fluent in Damian-speak.

What he says, “Be safe”. What he means, “I love you.”

You smile, heart so full of fondness for this grumpy man that you fell in love with. You tell him, “I love you too.”

“Tt. I didn’t say that,” he says.

You laugh, “It was implied.”

He scoffs again, but you know he’s smiling. The bus stops and you get up.

“Go, before you’re late again,” he orders. You tell him one final goodbye before you make your way out of the bus. Before you leave, you catch one last sight of the man, still seated with his eyes trained on the window beside him. Huh, maybe you were just overacting. With your heart still easy from the conversation with Damian, you get off the bus and make your way into New Alexandria.

-

“Is it just me, or was open-mic longer this time?” One of your co-workers, Rosalie, complains. You snort as you lifted a chair and put the seat on the table that you finished wiping. There were actually some really good poets tonight, some with thought-inducing work that would probably give you an existential crisis tonight. You place the last of the chairs on the table at the same time Rosalie rolls up the last of the microphone wires.

“I’m just glad to go home,” you tell her honestly. After the stalker scare, there was nothing that you wanted more than to curl up in your bed, sleep the night away, and wake up in Damian’s arms. You don’t know where he goes off to in the early morning, but you’ve learned not to question it. You trusted that he would tell you on his own time.

“Amen, sister.” Rosalie gives you a high-five as she passes by. You follow her into the backroom, where you hang both of your aprons, and get your things ready to go. Rosalie salutes you before she leaves, “Tell Boss that I’m heading out. I’ll lock the front.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.” You grab your bag and head to the office room where your boss/friend was putting her things away. “Hey, Rose is closing the front.”

“Ugh, bless her. I really don’t feel like walking all the way to the front.” She zips up her bag and looks at you expectantly. “Ready to go?”

The two of you lived a block away from each other. You suspect Damian had something to do with it, probably because she was dating Jason, his brother. You were just happy that you didn’t have to walk home alone, especially tonight.

You nod and the two of you make your way to the back door after shutting off the rest of the lights. After securing the back, the two of you walked out of the alleyway and onto the streets of Gotham. You make your way to the deli stand a few blocks away from New Alexandria and get yourself some sandwiches.

“Hey, how’s that internship with that company going?” She asks you. You take a bite of your sandwich before answering.

“It’s pretty good. My supervisor is kind of a dick, but at least he’s actually teaching me things.”

“Hm. Let me know if you want me to kick his ass,” she tells you. You laugh at that, shaking your head. Taking another bite, you glance around taking in the city, only to choke. On the other street, there was that same man from the bus. He was wearing the same clothing and he was walking in the same direction they were, looking at you every once in a while. Oh god. So, you were being followed. Shit.

You didn’t realize that you had stopped in the middle of the street until your companion stopped beside you, patting your back gently.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concerned. You almost tell her that everything is fine, but you could see the man on the other side of the street. He had stopped and was leaning against the wall of a building, purposefully looking away from you. She follows your gaze and frowns. “What are you looking at?”

“Do you see that guy over there? The one with the green beanie?” You whisper to her. She takes a quick glance and nods, her face serious. You steel yourself as you say, “I think he’s been following me.”

Her face hardens as she takes in your words, “Are you sure?”

“I saw him near my building earlier tonight and he was on the same bus as me. He didn’t follow me into New A so I thought it was just a coincidence but now he’s here and he’s definitely following us. Oh my god. What are we going do? We’re going to die. We are going to d—”

“Hey, calm down.” She puts her hands on your shoulders. She was tense, looking at the man as discreetly as she could. She turns to you, face resolute and a little angry. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go my house and see if he follows us.”

“What?” You exclaim. “But then he’ll know where you’ll live!”

You’re confused. Why would she even suggest that? You look at her, her face steely with determination and her grip tight on your shoulder. You’re about to refuse, but something in your gut tells you that she was going to do it anyway.

“I don’t like this plan.”

She smirks a little, something you have definitely seen on Jason’s face. It was the same look that he had when he was about to do something really stupid and reckless—like pouring his drink on some drunk asshole who was flirting with her during open-mic and starting a fight.

“Trust me. It’ll be fine,” she says. She puts her arm around your shoulders and begins walking again.

Soon enough, you pass by your apartment building. You cross the street and walk a little further, until you recognize her apartment building a few feet from you. Before you could make your way to the steps, she pulls you into the nearby alleyway.

“What are you doing?” You ask her, confused and just a little bit afraid. She puts her finger to her lips and motions for her to back up against the wall. You follow, watching her as she peeks her head out to the street, a look of concentration on her face. Oh my god. Was she going to confront the stalker? Holy shit. She was fucking crazy. “Please don’t tell me that you’re going to do something stupid.”

She only smiles at you, “Relax. I’ll handle it.”

She turns back to towards the street. The next thing you know, she’s reaching out, grabbing the man’s arm and pulling him into the alleyway.

“Holy shit!” You yell as she pushes him to the other side of the wall. The man tries to swing at her, but she simply ducks and kicks at his private parts. You move a little further away as the man doubles in pain, his hands going down to cup them. “What the fuck?!”

She ignores you in favor of grabbing one of his arms, twisting it, and holding it against his back as she pushed him into the wall.

“Who are you working for?” She demands from him. The man doesn’t answer, only groaning in pain. She presses against the arm more, “I said, who are you working for?!”

“Wayne! Wayne! He hired me to look after her,” the man answers. What? You exchange confused looks with her. Why would Bruce Wayne hire a bodyguard for her? He’s never done that before, not even when you went on that vacation to Japan a few months back. As far as you know, Damian’s father…wait.

You stand a little closer to the two, “Bruce Wayne?”

“His brat,” the man answers. “He hired me to follow you and keep you safe. Said something about not trusting someone’s concubine to look after you.”

You hear a snort from the woman beside you. You look to see her rolling her eyes as she backs away and lets him go.

“Sounds like Damian,” she shrugs. She looks apologetically at the man, who was rubbing his arm while glaring at her, “Sorry about that. You freaked her out pretty bad.”

“Whatever,” he says. He looks at you with contempt in his eyes, “Can you just make your way home so I can get the hell out here?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just say goodbye.”

He rolls eyes his eyes, but goes to stand out at the street. You turn to look at your friend with a raised eyebrow.

“What the hell was that?”

She laughs sheepishly, shrugging, “Jay taught me some self-defense moves for when I’m in trouble. They’re pretty basic, but I guess they worked, huh?”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Better not keep your knight-in-shining-armor waiting,” she says with a smirk. You roll your eyes at her and give her a little shove as she walks away from you. Oh, you are definitely going to have a talk with Damian about this.

The bodyguard walks you home in an awkward and stony silence. With one final goodbye, you head up to your apartment. You could barely walk up the two flights of stairs that lead to your place, the exhaustion of today’s events finally catching up to you.

Closing your door behind you, you drop your keys into the little bowl by the door and kick off your shoes. You head to the kitchen, not even bothering to turn on your lights.

“Hello, beloved.”

You almost choke on your water. Geez, what the hell was up with you and choking today? You turn around to find Damian lounging on your couch, smiling at you.

“Dames, what the hell? I almost drowned.”

He smiles at you, “I’m sorry. It’s a habit.”

You flip the light switch and stare at your boyfriend, arms crossed. You must have looked unamused because he stopped smiling and stood up.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He steps closer to you, frowning.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask the bodyguard that you apparently hired to watch me?”

At least he had the tendency to look a little sheepish.

“Yeah, oh.” You glare at him. “I thought I was going to get kidnapped, Damian. I almost had a panic attack on the damn bus.”

“I didn’t mean to cause you distress,” he says. He puts his hands on your arms, looking at you with sincerity. You can see the guilt in his eyes. He knew how anxious you tend to get in public spaces, especially when alone. He should have thought about what having someone watching you so intently would do to you. “I only meant to keep you safe.”

You sigh. Of course, you knew that. You had to admit that going out into the city at night, alone, was dangerous, especially in Gotham. There were so many crazy things going on in this city that he had a reason to worry about your safety. Still, you didn’t like that he felt the need to keep this from you. What if that person had turned out to be a real stalker? What if Jay didn’t teach his girlfriend self-defense and the both of you had been taken? That man had been an unknown variable, and you didn’t like not knowing who he might have been.

“I get it and I’m grateful that you thought of my safety. But, Dames,” you take his hands from your arms and hold it in yours. You look into his eyes so that he could see how serious you were about this, “You don’t have to feel the need to do it behind my back. I was so worried about what would’ve happened to me if he turned out to be a serial killer or a nutjob who was going to kidnap me. That bodyguard didn’t make me feel safe, if anything he scared me.”

You let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. He instinctively puts his hands on your waist, still looking at you. You could see the regret in his eyes and you hated to see him so downtrodden, but he needed to know this.

“I truly am sorry,” he tells you. You nod, letting him speak. “I was simply worried for your well-being. I hate sending you out there on your own without me beside you. I know Jason’s partner lives near you and she is fully capable of protecting the both of you, but I wanted you to be safe. I didn’t know how you’d react if I told you that I hired a bodyguard, so instead, I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” You tell him. He smiles at you and leans in. You let him, your eyes closing as you feel his lips press against yours. He pulls you in closer, pressing your body against his, and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It lasts for a while, neither of you willing to break it off. You did, though. The excitement of today’s events left you dead tired and there was nothing that you wanted more now than to just cuddle with Damian in bed until you fell asleep.

“Cuddle with me? At least until I fall asleep?” You ask him. He seems to consider it. You think that he’s weighing how late he could be to wherever he goes to in the middle of the night. You hope that he stays because he was really comfortable right now and you needed a little TLC.

He nods, “Of course.”

“Yay.”

After a few minutes getting ready for bed, you’re lying on your soft bed, your head on Damian’s chest and your legs tangled together. You close your eyes, sighing in content as Damian plays with your hair. The two of you reveled in the silence. You hope that the bodyguard wasn’t too sore from whatever she did to him. That reminds you….

“I think you should pay that guy extra. I don’t know that Jason taught her, but what she did looked like it hurt,” you mumble to him, half asleep. You feel his chest move his amused snort.

“All right. Anything for you.”

“Hm. Love you, Dames.”

It was quiet and you almost think that he’s not going to respond. Which is fine. You already know that he loves you. As you drift off, you don’t see him smile down at your sleeping figure. You don’t feel the kiss he leaves on your head. You don’t hear the quiet “I love you” that he says before he leaves for patrol. But he has a feeling that you know.

[goldenworldsabound]

Summons from the Tianquan

...I ship with Ningguang now fsdjkfsdkj. This is the first meeting between the Crystalline Angel (si) and Ningguang. Enjoy!

word count: 1706

content warning: light fighting

The Crystalline Angel would never forget the first time they spoke with the Tianquan.

A murmur rippled through the crowd at the underground fight club outside the outskirts of Liyue Harbor, before falling unusually silent. The crowd parted, and Ningguang appeared in the haze. The sound of her heels echoed as she approached the arena. Ganyu waited by the entrance, watching carefully for anyone who might attack. But Ningguang's powerful status and presence was enough to sufficiently awe the attendees, and the minor threat of the geo orbs hovering around her was a sufficient deterrent.

The Crystalline Angel stared suspiciously at the beautiful newcomer, panting. Beside them on the arena floor was an unconscious opponent. What should have been bloodied knuckles from the flurry of punches they'd landed were merely bruised, thin geo shields still visible around them. The Crystalline Angel stood up straight as Ningguang made her way toward them, eyes red eyes locked onto their blue ones, making it clear who they came to speak to.

"Bravo." Ningguang said, coming to stand within a few feet of them. "You're the one they call the Crystalline Angel?"

The Crystalline Angel nodded. "What of it?" Their nerves were electrified. What was going on? This was beyond unusual. Their black feathered wings spread out a bit behind them, a reflexive attempt to appear intimidating.

"I believe that there are far better uses for your talents," Ningguang said, with a wry smile. "And I have a proposition for you. If you're interested," Ningguang pulled out a scroll, holding it out to the Crystalline Angel. "use these instructions to visit me at the Jade Chamber tomorrow morning."

The Crystalline Angel took the scroll, even as they considered the consequence of doing so. The Jade Chamber. Every person in this room had set their eyes on them as an enemy as a result of taking that scroll - all of them would be interested in getting to the Jade Chamber to loot it. The Crystalline Angel was certain that would be impossible regardless, but the greedy low lives of Liyue would pay that no mind. They grit their teeth, recognizing the position they were being put in.

They were certain from the look on her face that Ningguang understood as well.

If they wanted to avoid a bloody free for all battle, all they needed to do was follow her out now. No one would dare attack. But they were not a coward, and they would face the challenge presented them.

"I will see you then." The Crystalline Angel replied, stone faced. Ningguang nodded, before turning on her heel to leave. The audience watched her go, murmurs rising back up to full volume as she left. Ganyu cast a final glance at the Crystalline Angel before leaving after Ningguang.

Immediately, all hell broke loose.

-----------------------------------------------------

The Crystalline Angel had given the password kept in the scroll to the man at the platform, and they had ascended to the Jade Chamber. The Jade Chamber, while not the behemoth it would become in time, which was still an impressive feat of engineering, and the Crystalline Angel was impressed despite themselves. They had never envisioned being up here, so they were not awestruck like a merchant would be. They were shrewd, taking everything in. They kept their wings pulled in tight, uninterested in knocking anything over by accident and feeling tense.

Ningguang came out to greet them.

"Welcome to the Jade Chamber, Crystalline Angel. Is there a name I may use to address you?" Ningguang asked, bowing her head slightly.

"You can use the title like everyone else." The Crystalline Angel replied with annoyance. "My name is none of your business."

"I understand. May I shorten it, then? Perhaps to Angel?"

The Crystalline Angel let out a huff. "If you must, I would prefer Crystalline."

Ningguang nodded, with a quiet laugh. "Then welcome, Crystalline. Please, come with me."

Crystalline followed Ningguang inside. Even though the Jade Chamber was a single room, it was more opulent than anything Crystalline had ever seen. Beautiful paintings and calligraphies lined the walls, expensive vases and rare books on display, items clearly made of expensive gold, and a large ornate desk covered in papers at the back of the room.

"It is customary for guests to bring me gifts," Ningguang said, voice light. "But I assume you have come empty handed."

Crystalline snorted. "Was the trouble you caused me last night not enough for you?"

Ningguang laughed. "I like that bluntness. You make a fair point. I hope it wasn't too much trouble after all."

"I'm here." Crystalline responded, narrowing their eyes to meet Ningguang's amused gaze. They neglected to mention all the scrapes and bruises they had suffered as they had made their escape from the underground fighting ring. One against so many was an obviously unfair fight. But they had used their burst to shield themselves and increase their movement speed, punching out anyone who dared to get in their way. But they had not left unscathed.

Ningguang nodded. "As for my proposition." Ningguang cleared her throat. "There are times when there are less than savory jobs that I need completed. This may be intimidating folks who need to be put back in lines, reminding treasure hoarders the cost of messing with the Qixing, or collecting materials needed for various objectives." Ningguang went to stand behind her desk, putting a gloved hand on a contract she had written up. "In the mornings, you will come and collect your tasks from me. In the evenings, you will report back. Between those two times, as long as the tasks are completed, you are free to do whatever you like. And," She lifted her gaze to meet Crystalline's. "You will be paid handsomely. The details are here." She slid the contract across the desk.

Crystalline leaned over to read it, keeping their arms crossed. It was as Ningguang had said. They kept their face carefully calm as they read the payment terms, despite being shocked by the huge amount of Mora.

"I see. These terms are...amenable." Crystalline said.

"Good. Please sign here." Ningguang indicated the dotted line, handing over a pen. After a moments hesitation Crystalline signed. This would be very different from their current life. With a pleased smile, Ningguang took back the pen, adding her own signature. "Welcome to the Qixing."

Crystalline snorted quietly. "Thanks." They cracked their neck. "So what's next?"

"Bring me a Chaos Core from a Ruin Hunter."

---------------------------

Crystalline was hugely unimpressed with the task. They were certain that Ningguang was testing them yet again. So you can handle a mob - can you handle a dangerous enemy?

"Don't underestimate me." Crystalline murmured to themselves as they staked out the Ruin Hunter. This was trivial. Trivial, trivial. But at least they got to fight, they supposed. And they'd be paid handsomely for it.

They jumped up onto a ledge, quickly firing a few arrows at the Ruin Hunter to catch it's attention. It began to rise up into the air as a response, focusing it's gaze onto them. They notched an arrow, imbuing it with Geo energy, before firing it directly into the Ruin Hunter's eye as it approached them. It flinched, and they immediately began charging a second one. The Ruin Hunter prepared to fire missiles.

Crystalline grit their teeth. Those would hurt. But there should be time...they fired the imbued arrow into it's eye again, and with a grinding mechanical noise it fell to the ground, temporarily inert.

Letting out a grunt they powered up, putting their bow on their back as Geo energy surrounded their fists like shields. They jumped onto the Ruin Hunter, smashing it repeatedly. After a good 30 seconds or so, the robot awoke, and began to rise into the air again, Crystalline still on it.

It swerved and jerked around, trying to knock them off. The Ruin Hunter was incapable of reaching them while they were attached to it like this. But it was beginning to spin, and they were forced to pause their punches to hold on. Their Geo shields were running out, and they'd need time to charge them up again.

They covered it's eye with both their hands, hanging on tightly as it began to careen wildly. It slammed into a stone wall, but wasn't quite out yet. It was beginning to spark and make more mechanical noises, so Crystalline was certain it was close to being defeated. There, there, it was moving wildly in the direction of a rocky cliff- they jumped off just in time to avoid being crushed as the Ruin Hunter smashed itself to pieces against the rocks.

They did a roll as they landed, smoothly getting to their feet, bow already drawn and pointing at the Ruin Hunter remains. With a smirk, they put the bow away, walking over to collect their bounty. Easy.

They would make sure Ningguang knew exactly how much she had underestimated them.

---------------------------------------

"Delivery." Crystalline dropped five Chaos Cores unceremoniously onto Ningguang's desk. "I was enjoying myself, so I figured you wouldn't mind the extra."

Ningguang raised her brows, looking stunned for a moment at the display. "I certainly can't say I was expecting that. Congratulations on passing your first day with flying colors."

Crystalline felt their cheeks warming. They hadn't expected Ningguang to openly praise them like that. Certainly, they'd heard the mixed rumors of the Tianquan being kind, but being shrewd, being sweet, but sharply cunning. But it wasn't something they were used to.

"Hm. Well. Thank you." They coughed quietly. "I'll...I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Don't forget! I'm giving you your first months payment in advance." Ningguang pulled a bag of Mora from a drawer in the desk. "And I'll throw in a little something for all the extra cores." A second, smaller bag of Mora appeared. Both were placed on the desk for Crystalline to take. They hesitated a moment in disbelief, before pocketing the bags with a small smile.

"Thank you." The smile widened fractionally. "Now I will see you tomorrow. Hopefully with a more difficult set of tasks." They flashed a cheeky grin, as if daring Ningguang to do something.

Ningguang laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Good night."

[storytimefromthecreed]

Zero To Hero

Alexios was used to strange events occuring in his life, so when he was mid-battle and the Muses emerged, he just accepted it. They just watched with bright eyes and smiles, and he didn’t mind the company. Far more pleasant than his usual, that was for sure. Alexios kicked the man back, withdrawing his sword from his side to parry the attack from his left. Then, with a twist, he ducked and cut another man down.

Then, the singing started, “Bless my soul, he was on a roll. Person of the week, in every Greek opinion poll.” His brows rose. He’d heard they only sang of heroes, so he was surprised they were singing here. Which one of these men before him were they singing of, he wondered. Dancing over a pair that tried to bar his way, Alexios plunged knives into their necks and ended them.

“What a pro! He could stop a show. Point him at a monster and you're talking S.R.O.” Alexios had to admit, the tune was catchy and the tempo, hm, if he could just... Adjusting his timing along with the song, Alexios cut another down.

“He was a no one, a zero, zero. Now he a hot shot! He's a hero! He was a kid with his act down pat. From zero to hero in no time flat. Zero to hero, just like that!” Well that was nice of him, Alexios thought pleasantly. Always good to hear someone working their way up. Just like him. Leaping into the air made him a target momentarily, but he used the pressure behind his fall to cut the next two men in half. Landing into a crouch, Alexios cut his sword up, spilling the blood of the next one.

“When he smiled the girls went wild, with oohs and ahhs. And they slapped his face on ev'ry vase.” Another muse corrected her on pronounciation, but Alexios didn’t mind it. Instead, he looked at the men in front of him and tried to determine whom was the most attractive. This would be the man he would stay away from. If the Muses came down for him, then he should be left alone. Truly the Gods had other use for this man.

“From appearance fees and royalties, our man had cash to burn. Now nouveau riche and famous, he could tell you what's a Grecian ‘earn’!” Wow, some people had everything. Alexios remembered the days when drachmae was hard to come by. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone. The sound of metal slicing through the air cut his attention from the Muses song, to Alexios’s irritation. The song was getting good! Kicking the man’s knee, Alexios stabbed his neck, severing his head, and slashed the stomach of another man. Almost done.

“Say ‘Amen’! There he goes again. Sweet and undefeated, and an awesome 10 for 10. Folks lined up, just to watch him flex, and this perfect package packed a pair of pretty pecs.”

“Lexie, he comes, he sees, he conquers;” Alexios froze, throwing a man off him, and the Muses kept singing. “Honey, the crowds were going bonkers. He showed the moxie, brains, and spunk! From zero to hero, a major hunk. Zero to hero, and who'd have thunk?” The tempo increased and Alexios changed his tune to fight alongside the Muses’ gift.

"Who put the "glad" in "gladiator"? Alex-i-os! Whose daring deeds are great theater? Alex-i-os!”

”What?” Alexios’s suspicions were confirmed as called over his shoulder and didn’t see the next man. All he felt was the tackle, the arms wrapping around his waist, and the force of being thrown on the ground. Air leaving his lungs and leaving them crackling. The man brought his sword up, to plunge it in his chest no doubt, but Alexios had other plans that day, none which included dying. A head butt to ended the man’s career, and Alexios rolled out from under him, dragging his sword through him while doing so.

“Is he bold? No one braver! Is he sweet? Our favorite flavor!” Alexios was blushing. In the middle of battle. Bobbing his head along the tempo, rolling his shoulders side to side, Alexios found himself in a mix of dance and fight, and it was effective! The battle was ended and Alexios wiped his sword clean before sheathing it. Then, he crossed his arms, bashfully smiling at the Muses and swaying side to side at their tune.

“Bless my soul! He was on a roll! Undefeated! Riding high, and the nicest guy” He winked at one of the muses. “Not conceited.”

“He was a nothin', a zero, zero. Now he's a hot-shot. He's our hero. He hit the heights at breakneck speed! From zero to hero

“Lexi’s a hero.”

“Now he's a hero!” The crescendo reached and Alexios was already cheering the conclusion. Grinning ear to ear.

“Beautiful song from beautiful ladies. Thank you.” Alexios clapped and laughed, his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “Though I feel unworthy.”

“What do you,” A Muse winked, “have to be shy of?” They’d begun to surround him, taking him in from all sides. Alexios tried not to enjoy the attention, but when one Muse gripped his bicep and giggled. Alexios flexed.

“I’m no Hercales.”

“Honey, you’re Hunk-ules.” One of the Muses gave him a slap on the behind and he leapt.

“HEY!” His hands went protectively to his bottom, and the Muses giggled.

The Lead Muse gave the Grabby Muse a look to which she giggled and disappeared. Giving Alexios a watchful gaze with wise eyes, she smiled a smile so bright and warm that it reminded him of a sunrise. “How about traveling music?”

“I’d greatly enjoy that.” And thus, he went on his way.