#saw she would do well as a Mage and she doesn’t disappoint

[bitchesofostwick]

be yourself

the final OC kiss of the week is for @murderspice and their darling asher trevelyan! <3 xoxo me and aurelia

***

“Why the long face, Trevelyan?” Aurelia teases, leaning back against the battlements with such carelessness and ease that one would never know there was a mile-long drop into the river gorge behind it. “Or is it Inquisitor? Inquizzy… Trev?”

“Ah.” Asher folds his hands in front of him first, then behind his back. He’s still not accustomed to meeting new people outside the Circle, despite having been in the Inquisition for months now, and the appropriate etiquette for someone of such renown—the Champion of Kirkwall, Maker’s sake—seems to escape him. Before, it would have been easy. Smiles. Bows. Mingling. Posturing. But most importantly, as his parents had always drilled into his head: no magic. It was the secret he’d built all of his formalities and charm around.

Meeting people as part of the Inquisition has been much different.

Everyone knows he’s a mage.

He’s not quite accustomed to introducing himself as…well…himself.

“Is it Cullen?” Aurelia presses. “Is he being an ass again? We go way back, you know. Want me to bite him for you? I’ll bite him.”

“I—” As much as the thought amuses him, he’s too stunned, if anything, to agree. “Um, no, that’s quite all right.”

She looks almost disappointed.

“Thanks though.”

Aurelia shrugs. “What is it then? Did Varric undersell me? Oversell me? He gets in the habit of telling tall tales when you get a drink in him, and even taller tales when he’s completely sober.”

At least this time, Asher manages a smile. “No, that’s not it either. I’m sorry. To tell you the truth, I’m still getting used to…” He gestures at the great keep around them. “Well, this. And you know. My position here, my leadership. Of so many people both from the Circles and from…elsewhere.”

She raises her eyebrows, and he finds himself almost nervous under the gaze of her ice-blue eyes.

“Which isn’t to say that I’m unaccustomed to leadership, of course—I was quite high ranking in Ostwick’s Circle before…although, I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to—”

“To understand?” she interrupts him, and he swallows. Nods. “Ha.” She hoists herself up to sit on the stone wall behind her, and he has to fight the urge to pull her back to her feet lest she topple over the edge. “I do, though. My sister…my little sister was taken to the Circle in Kirkwall. I visited as often as I could. Half the time, the templars wouldn’t even let me see her. But the times I did, I saw the inside. I get what it was like.”

“I—I hadn’t known,” he says, truthfully. “Forgive me for assuming—”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she says quickly with a smile. “It’s all just to say that I do get it. Even leadership in the Circle isn’t the same as this. The same as power.”

That’s just it, he thinks, and he nods vigorously. “Yes, that’s exactly the feeling. It’s just…different. And meeting new people, especially someone of your, ah, accomplishments…it’s strange, sometimes. I don’t know why. I find I don’t always know how to present myself. I would have, once.” In another time, another place. Before he could be himself.

She nods slowly. “Well. First of all, don’t let my titles and reputation and all that other bullshit intimidate you. Cullen certainly doesn’t.”

He laughs out loud at that now, finding himself more at ease.

“I’m just a person, you know? Like you. Just people. People pushed into something way bigger than we are, trying to find our way through all the crap.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” he chuckles.

“Now.” She hops off the wall—again making Asher’s heart nearly stop—landing thankfully on her feet and in front of him. She takes his cheeks between her hands and plants a kiss right on his forehead before rolling back on her heels again and grinning. “Good talk. But I can’t help but notice I’ve been here an hour already and you haven’t even offered me a drink.” She tilts her head down toward the Herald’s Rest. “So? Are you gonna?”

Asher laughs, a light flush crawling over his cheeks. “I suppose you’ve called me out on it now.” He waves his arm before her. “After you.”

[nanowatzophina]

Pspspspsing you to tell us abt your wardens!!!!! Would luv to hear abt any other da ocs as well

GASP!! SURE!! You wanna hear about my wardens??? Yay!!!

This will give me a good excuse to redraw/make ref for em too!

Dragon Age Shit under the cut!!

((Holy crap. It deleted all my progress but here we go again. I hope I can remember all the details))

— Also for reference I’m only gonna talk about the pt’s I’ve actually finished. Which is only four of em.

First up we’ve got Rosal Surana!!

((Still proud of how this one turned out so she doesn’t get an update))

Circle Mage lady who just wants to learn as much as she can!! She’s my first COMPLETED pt. So I made the fact that I was always asking all the questions in each interaction part of her character.

She’s curious, a bit overly so.

She made her own outfit. This was like— designed before I got better at copying clothes fashion but I do like the idea of Rosal just… making this for herself. Not looking like she’s from any particular nation. Just herself.

She romances Zevran, whom I love dearly. She is best friends with Alistair and Morrigan. She never got as close with Leliana but they still friends.

Rosal was a Chantrified name for her. Instead of the traditional Dalish name that her mom named her. (I honestly can’t recall what it was originally. I was dumb and didnt right it down) She was born in the Denerim alienage and taken away at 8 when she accidentally used her powers against a human boy in the street who was picking on her.

I had like. This whole idea for a fanfic with her that takes place after Awakening where she goes on a search for her mother who was sold to Tevinter. Full of intrigue and drama.

Secondly! Alana Cousland!!

Grew up refusing to act like a lady, much to her mothers disappointment. Not doing her hair, running out to learn how to fight with daggers rather than manners, scaring off suitors with her blunt way of speaking and teasing. Just a real Princess Merida situation.

She grew up wanting to be like the great heroes she learned about growing up. Slaying dragons and fighting armies!

But then… her family was taken so suddenly from her. Everyone she knew and loved and grew up with, dead. She got her dream of being a heroic Grey Warden but… the cost always makes her feel guilty… like she brought this upon their family due to simply… wishing for adventure. She had a LOT of survivor’s guilt and became kind of a rude, blunt person. Cold and hardened.

But… then she met an idiot named Alistair. Who somehow managed to make her laugh despite terrible circumstances. And would listen to her and talk with her. He helped her to open up.

Despite being… herself. She managed to befriend all the companions pretty closely. Especially Sten and Leliana. Sten approves of her while Leliana is much like Alana’s mom, nagging her into brushing her hair and maybe… taking care of herself a bit more…

In the end Alana marries Alistair and became Queen. She finds it incredibly ironic that she was running from this type of life all of her youth and yet… walked right into being Queen. Because she saw it as… finally accepting her duty is important. And wanting to take that step with Alistair. She still struggles with public appearance sometimes. And would often rather be off fighting dark spawn. But she is also happy to be able to… rest. After everything…

((Tho the convincing Alistair to sleep w/ Morrigan to save their lives for the sake of the kingdom was… a little awkward. Especially since Alana is friends with Morrigan just… uncomfortable all around))

Next up we’ve got Solan Aeducan!

Solan Aeducan was on her way to being a great dwarven warrior. Which sucks. Leaving Ostagar was one of the hardest things to happen. Seeing the sky was a horrible reminder of what she had lost.

She was always a quick to anger, hot-headed woman. But after leaving Ostagar she became untrusting and just... more angry...

But then... she met Leliana. Who helped her to see the beauty of the stars... and then they fell in love. I love them so much.

Solan got Leli a nug in Ostagar. And listens to her stories, loving just how... smart Leliana is.

However... she is... the ONLY playthrough that I’ve done that she refused the ritual... and so she dies... and Leliana is left alone... So I’m a terrible person.

And Lastly! Fen’nas!

Fen’nas is a glorious himbo. He is bold and flirty though has a BIT of a short-temper. He likes doing nice things for people. Which... makes him and Morrigan a bit of a... unique situation.

He totally fell for her the second he saw her. Which is a surprise for all of us considering how Morrigan swooped in the way she did.

But he loves Morrigan and wants her to be happy. Even though she runs away after they make a baby. But he runs after her like the rom-com man he is.

And he goes through the mirror with her. And raises their kid together. And he is a great stay-at-home husband. Though... they never got actually married. But they are in love. I love them.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Could I have 13 and 70 from the smut list with King Arthur?

A/N: Yes, yes, you can. :D Also took some inspiration from the live-action Cinderella movie. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + only for smut, p in v 

Masterlist 

Prompts: “Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”& “I know all of your weaknesses.”

You fidgeted in your pretty gown for the eighth time in the last ten minutes, and your mother was less than pleased. “Stop moving, ungrateful child, this is your chance to impress the King! A chance for us to rise among the nobles!” she hisses at you, pulling your shoulders back. A ball in King Arthur’s court, wearing a corset that did little to help in the way of breathing, and your overbearing mother is breathing down your neck. Your sister beside you covered her giggles with a cough as you rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, Lady Charlotte!” Mother smiles and thankfully leaves you for a moment alone. You take a deep breath and lower your shoulders, eyes scanning the room for exits. 

“She will catch you, you know,” your sister giggles again, “and drag you right back.” 

“I feel more like a prized bird on display than a woman,” you scoff, “does she honestly believe that the King is going to look at me in this ridiculous get-up and fall madly in love? We are peasants; how did we even get invited to this?  Besides, I haven’t even seen this King before; what if he’s some hideous brute? Maybe that’s why they haven’t commissioned any portraits of him.” 

“I’ve heard he’s quite handsome and young.” 

“The average life span of a person is only fifty or so years, so how young can he be, twelve?” you groan at seeing the large plume of your mother’s hat coming back your way. “I need to get out of here before mother sells me to the highest coin.” 

“Quickly then,” she shoos, “I know why you don’t want to meet the King; he’ll never compare with your handsome stranger.” She grins mischievously at you, and you hold your breath waiting for the fallout. 

“How did you know about that?” 

“Sister, darling, you are not very good at hiding your feelings.” You glare at her, and she giggles, “I also saw the two of you by the creek when I was out fetching berries last week. He’s quite handsome.” 

“There you are!” Mother returns and puts her hands on your shoulders, pretending to show affection. “The King is coming,” she whispers with a grin and moves to stand between the two of you. You look over at your sister and give her your best pleading face, mouthing the words, ‘please don’t tell’ she smiles and nods with a wordless ‘promise.’ 

The trumpets sound loud, and a man stands forward to announce the King. People sitting rise to their feet, girls around you giggle like children, several pushing up their chests, biting their lips, or pinching their cheeks for some extra color. You stand there with a lump in your throat, trying to swallow around it. 

When the King makes his entrance, the crown glistening off the top of his head, your mouth slowly falls open on a gasp. “Art?” you whisper, your mother shushing you; you can feel your sister’s eyes burn into the side of your face. Everyone around you bows and curtsies low in honor, but your body has frozen, your limbs no longer working. 

“Curtsy,” your mother grabs your hand and pulls you down with a hiss, and you gasp, nearly falling to the floor with force. The noise draws his attention, and when the crowd rises, his eyes are staring intensely into yours. Those eyes you love, Art the apprentice, is the King of England. “He’s staring at you,” you can hear the glee in your mother’s voice, but all you feel is dread. 

The music begins to play, and several Lord’s come up to him showing their offspring off like a cow at the market. And for a moment, his eyes leave yours, and you bolt. “Where are you going?” your mother moves to grab you, but your sister intervenes; God bless her. You walk as quickly as your skirts will allow towards the door to the gardens, and when you are on the threshold, an arm comes out to stop you. 

“Wait, milady,” you freeze, half wanting to rip your arm from his grasp and slap him across the face for his misdirection, the other half wanting to turn and get lost in the deep blue of his eyes. “My love,” he whispers only for you to hear, “let me explain.” The second half wins, and you turn slowly, noticing the entire ballroom is watching the scene with rapt interest. His eyes, as blue as the sky reflecting off the sea, have you unraveling before him. “Dance with me?” he straightens to his full height, letting go of your arm and holding out a hand, “please.” 

Your hand trembles as you bring it up and place it in his. The warmth that is usually so comforting seems to set your skin ablaze as you follow him to the middle of the ballroom. The music is slow, and you follow the steps with him in a carefully orchestrated dance. “Talk,” you whisper, “why did you lie to me?” 

“I didn’t lie,” he grins, “not exactly; I am still learning my trade, just like an apprentice.” 

You know all the eyes are on you, and you smile when he gives you a turn, stepping hard on his foot when you come around. He grunts but doesn’t stop the dance, continuing each step. “That wasn’t very nice,” he smiles and says under his breath. “Did you forget love? I know all your weaknesses.” His words light the fire in your belly, and you see the mischief in his eyes as the dance comes to a close. 

“Would you join me for a stroll in the gardens, Milady?” he asks loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Your Majesty?” Sir Bedivere strides over quickly, “there are many ladies who wish to dance with you, my King; you wouldn’t want to insult them.” 

“I need to make sure to give each of the ladies my adequate attention. Isn’t that what you told me, Sir Bedivere?” he grins as the other man nods with a thin line of his lips. “I won’t be alone, don’t worry, Sir Tristan will be my guard.” He looks over at the Knight, who has several ladies of his own to tend to, who nods with great reluctance. “See?” he claps the older man on the shoulder and offers you his elbow. “Milady?” 

You don’t have much choice, taking his elbow and following him over the threshold and into the gardens. Sir Tristan follows several steps behind, and you walk into the sprawling greenery. When you are about halfway in, he turns with a whistle, “Oi, Wet Stick, bugger off for a bit; we need to have a chat.” 

“You know this bird, boss?” he asks with a raise of his brow. 

“Yeah, she’s the one I asked you to bring the invitation to,” you look up at him, alarmed. 

“You invited us? Well, aren’t you just full of surprises,” you huff and walk further into the orchard part of the gardens, far from the prying eyes of the partygoers. 

“Shit,” he follows quickly behind, and you hear Wet Stick snigger and walk off in the other direction. “Wait, darling, please.” 

You whirl around with a finger pushing into his chest, “What game are you trying to play? Find some pretty peasant girl, make her fall in love with you, and then embarrass her in front of all the Nobility in England. Was that your game?” You walk away from him and pace back and forth, “I can’t believe I was so naive to think you cared.” 

“I do!” he reaches for you and holds you by the shoulders to face him, “I do care, love. I didn’t want you to love me because I was a King, I wanted you to love me! Arthur, the man, not the crown. I never lied to you,” you glare at him with a hand gesturing to the crown on top of his head, “okay I neglected one small detail.” 

“One,” you huff out a laugh pushing away his hands, “one small detail?! Arthur, you’re the fucking King of England! I’m only a poor seamstress, with an insufferable widowed mother, who only dreams of becoming a part of the upper class!” You feel the tears swell in your eyes as the truth all comes crashing down on your shoulders; the man you’ve been in love with for months is unreachable; theres’ no way he can marry you. 

“Listen to me,” he reaches for you again and takes three enormous strides pushing your back up against one of the apple trees. “Look at me.” 

Your mind won’t slow down, “what was your goal with having us come tonight? So you could shame me? Show off to the nobility that you are one with the people? Do you fuck every peasant girl you meet?” 

“Listen to me!” he shakes your shoulders, and your eyes widen, looking up to see him. “Listen to me,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to your own, “there was no game. I saw you in the market ten months ago when I was in the city.” 

“Ten months ago? I’ve only known you for six….”

“I didn’t know how to approach you; I couldn’t just go up to you and say hello I’m the King of bloody England, fancy a pint?” You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, his curving up at the edges. “So I dressed in my old clothes, snuck out of the palace, and started slowly talking to you. Then we went for a walk, and I couldn’t stay away. You’ve bewitched me, love. My love for you is more powerful than the magic of the Mage.” 

“Honest?” you ask quietly with trepidation, “do you mean that Art?” He smiles at the nickname he gave you, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. 

“Promise, love. It’s only ever and will only ever be you.” He runs his hand against your cheek, and you lean into his touch, letting yourself breathe for the first time all evening. 

“I love you too, Arthur; I’m in love with you.” His eyes soften as he gazes down at you. 

“We have to go back soon,” he whispers, kissing you softly, “but do you think we got time for?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you smack his arm with a laugh. 

“Is that all you think about?” 

He grins and takes a step back, “turn around,” he whispers with a wink. You turn around slowly, gasping when your hands are pressed further into the tree trunk. “Quiet love, don’t want anyone to hear us do we?” 

He moves quickly, unlacing the top of your corset and peeling the back open, letting it fall to the ground, your breasts sagging with the relief of being free. He palms your breasts, placing rough, scratchy kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands come around to his waist, and he pushes up several layers of your skirts, reaching for your pulsing heat. He turns you around, and you reach your hands quickly down to palm him through his leather breeches. 

Your hands falter on the fabric, and you look down with wide eyes, “I-I made these,” your voice shakes, “they were commissioned a few weeks ago.” You look up to meet his warm eyes as he nods. 

“I wanted to support you, and you are the best seamstress in the city. Only the best for the King,” he murmurs, almost shy.

“Well then, my King,” his eyes darken, “I will need to show my appreciation.” You tug open the breeches, and he slips them down his thighs, lifting your skirts the rest of the way. 

He fumbles with the layers, and you giggle at the annoyed look on his face. “I swear, when we marry, I demand you just walk around naked at all times. These skirts are ridiculous.” 

You don’t have time to respond, the words caught in your throat, as he lifts you and slides inside with ease. “Fuck, always so wet for me, love,” his hips snap inside you, and his mouth tangles with yours, swallowing your moans. 

“Arthur,” you moan, feeling him stretch you on his majestic royal cock. This is not the first time you’ve fucked, having given Art the apprentice your virginity in the woods several months ago, but this was the first time you’ve fucked Arthur, the king, and he didn’t disappoint. 

“That’s it, love, let me hear you, but only me, don’t want any of them damn nobles to know I already made my choice. That I already fell in love months ago with a beautiful seamstress in the market.” He grunts, and your cunt flutters around his cock with every word. The love between you flowing over with each thrust of his hips. 

“I- ah, I love you, Arthur,” you whimper against his neck, slick with sweat. The air is thick tonight, the incoming storm leaving the air thick and dripping. 

He pulls back to look at you, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, “I love you, you’re my Queen, always have been.”

You buck your hips against him, cumming with a silent cry, head thrown back in ecstasy. He thrusts three more times, and then you feel him cumming deep inside you, thick and warm it dribbles down the inside of your thighs. He’d never done that before, always pulling out at the last moment. You open your eyes and look at him; his pupils are wide, almost black as he stares at you.

“Now they can’t say anything,” he mumbles, and you furrow your brow. “You may be carrying a little Prince or Princess now; I have to marry you.” 

You grin at what he’s done, his cock still buried inside you. “You’re naughty,” you giggle. 

“I’m naughty?” He asks with a smirk, “your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more so at what I’m thinking about doing to you.” 

“And what’s that?” You shift your hips, and his eyes widen as you tighten around his cock. 

His eyes soften, and he cups your cheek gently, bringing your lips softly to his own. The rub of his beard is rough on your cheek as he moves to your ear, “I’m going to end this party early and show you. I already made my choice a long time ago. But, are you ready?” He pulls back, looking deep into your eyes, “Can you stand by my side and love Arthur the King, as much as you love Art, the apprentice?” 

Your heart catches in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at his words; you lean into his hand warmly and on your cheek and close your eyes. Opening them slowly and looking into the sea of blue, “I love you, all sides of you, that doesn’t change because of a shiny crown and a title.” 

He slowly pulls out, and you whimper as he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your skirts and fixing your corset. You both work in silence to be presentable again, his eyes bright as he smiles at you, “Then, let’s go,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand, “I think it’s time to announce our engagement.” He snickers as you walk along beside him back towards the party. 

“What are you laughing at?” you chuckle, watching his eyes filled with mirth. 

“Your mother is going to faint,” he laughs beside you. 

You groan and roll your eyes with a laugh, “Good, maybe she will be quiet for a few moments.” 

He booms out a laugh and pulls you close, kissing the top of your head, “oh my love, our life will never be boring.” 

Taglist: @lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @the-dendrophile-bookworm @amneris21 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @princessxkenobi @Kirstg42 @flaireandsynch @rayslittlekitten 

[tokoyamisstuff]

This Is New For Me

Loki x Reader

Summary: Life on Asgard can be straining - especially if the God of Mischief has taken a liking to you.

Warnings: Loki being so terrible at flirting it physically hurts, bullying, this got way angstier than I initially intended

Words: ~2800

A/N: I’ve written this trying to distract myself from personal problems, but honestly I can’t think straight rn. Dunno I kinda hate how this turned out but here you go I guess...sorry.

Loki Odinson must really despise you.

No matter how often Thor would stand up for his brother and try to justify his behavior, there was no other explanation for you other than that he must truly hate you with every essence of his being.

In the beginning, having been invited in the palace to train magic under the Allmother sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime chance - yet all that’s left from your initial excitement had been replaced by pure annoyance.

Lately, whenever you knew that you had to attend class with that certain raven-haired prince, your insides would churn before you even arrived.

Weeks have turned into months, never once ceasing his condescending remarks or childish pranks. Of course, he wasn’t called the God of Mischief for nothing.

All nine realms had tales to tell about his sheganinans - yet with you, he seemed especially invested. There was not one encounter where he could leave you at peace, always ending with you being victim to his wicked humor. 

The man did not seem to respect you at all - and it made you furious.

Today, you’d show him just what you were capable of!

“Greetings, great Allmother.” Polite as always, you bowed deeply in front of your queen, her magnificent presence still making you jittery beyond belief.

“No need for formalities, my lovely student” she responded heartily, only making you admire her even more - until a loud, exaggerated sigh cut through the calm atmosphere.

“Her again?” There he stood, maintaining his defensive pose as he rolled his eyes at you. “Mother, why would you keep on bringing a lowlife like her to defile this holy place?”

This was probably the millionth time that Frigga apologized deeply for her son’s behavior, and you were always amazed by her patience with him. How could a person so formidable end up raising such a troublemaker?

But then again...if she believes that there is good in the God of Mischief, then so would you.

“For today, I have prepared a spell that can only be cast by two mages at once”, Frigga explained, while Loki would still not bid you a single look. “So throughout this lesson, you will need to work together to succeed.”

Irritation was clearly visible on his face - and if you were perfectly honest, you weren’t really fond of that idea either. Yet if it was your scolar’s wish, none of you would protest.

“Spontaneous creation of complex concepts puts a huge stroll on one’s mind and body, so do not be frustrated if it doesn’t work within the first try.”

The idea was simple: Create a blooming meadow in midst of the palace floor, since creating life would be way too complex - only masters of the sorcery arts could take this spell to completion.

You and Loki were now sitting on the bare floor in front of each other and only now you realized how tense he had become, sweat dripping from his forehead and biting his bottom lip.

Was your presence really so terrible that he couldn’t bear with it?!

“Hey” you whispered, taking his hands to form a ring just as instructed “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this!”

“I don’t need your encouragement...” he spat between gritted teeth, now that you noticed his palms were just as sweaty as his face seemed to be.

One second. Two, tree...fourty....a hundret and two...

“Relax” Loki repeated to himself as if it was his mantra - but now, with your fingers entangled in his? Sheer impossible.

Distraught, he shot his mother a desperate look, just for her to point  towards you, sitting cross-legged and seemingly completely relaxed.

Since your eyes were closed, Loki took this chance to observe every detail of your face, without having to fear that you’d notice his little infatuation.

By the norns - you were as fair and bewitching as always. So way, way out of his league. An unreachable, vigorous being. No angel, valkyrie or similar could ever reach up to you - at least in his eyes.

Was this what they called love at first sight? Loki only knew those sentiments from novels he always ridiculed before he got to know you.

Slowly and steadily, Loki aligned his breathing pattern with yours, picturing the cycle of energy the two of you formed. Carefully, he began infusing you with his magic, trying his best to allow yourself do the same to him.

Another minute passed by and you were finally able to let your magic flow through each other’s bodies entirely, like a serene stream.

With things being like this, he felt so different from the Loki you knew.

His magic was strong, indeed - but so gentle, warm and somehow comfortable to be coated with. You wondered-

“HEY!”

As soon as Loki slapped your hand away, breaking the cycle, all of the flowers that had previously bloossomed through you would wither in an instant.

“What the hel do you think you’re doing, you mewling quim?!” Loki shoutet as loud as his lungs allowed him to, while his mother’s face distorted in second-hand-embarrasment at her son’s choice of words. “Who do you think you are?!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-” You only wanted to scan his emotions through the magic bond you shared, just peek under the cover for a mere second - what was he so afraid of you to find?

“Know your place, woman!” The god pointed at you before he rushed up, ignoring the ache in his heart as he saw your face contort in sadness. “You are beneath me, never forget that!”

Why were you even surprised?

“You’re right” you sniveled quietly as you balled a fist in your dress, and Loki hated himself so much that he wished to just disappear. “My apologies. You don’t have to put up with me ever again.”

As always, instead of fighting, you made your leave without ever fighting back.

Frigga’s pleads for you to stay and talk this over were all for naught when you rushed away, muttering curses directed towards youself rather than anyone else.

Instead of scolding her son, she’d punish him through her silence, furiously shaking her head as she rushed away as well.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?!

The God of Mischief was very well aware that whenever you were close, his mind went completely blank - and that made him panic.

Never before he had felt so goddamn vulnerable in front of anything, terrifying him beyond belief.

And Loki loathed that feeling: Losing control over himself, being reminded once again how alone and  unloveable he is, facing a goddess as stunning as you are every single day.

So he concluded it to be best to cope like he did all those millenia: Cover up those insecurities, shove his anxieties in the back of his heart and protect his heart from anyone coming close.

Good thing you believed that presumptupus, disoblinging duplicity of his to be his true self.

That would make it easier for the both of you, having as much distance as humanly possible. Vicinity could become dangerous terrain.

Yes, he would only save you some time - it would be a waste if you would try to actually give him a chance, just to be let down by what kind of disappointment he truly was.

But it wouldn’t end here - since the only way Loki Odinson first and only communication was through causing mischief.

A scream of yours startled the servants early in the morning, with your personal maiden being the first to rush to your side.

“Milady, wha-” She stopped in her tracks as she saw you standing in front of the mirror, touching your scalp in disbelief, where everything had been cut short.

That was it. Enough of it!

Dismissing the servants, you took a scissor and tried to at least make an acceptable hairstyle out of the mess he had made, before you would leave to the royal garden.

“You!” Pointing towards Loki, innocently sitting on a bench to watch the sunrise, you screamed and let a strand of hair run from your fingers to the floor. “You did this!”

“Now relax, would you” he chuckled, wearing his smug grin like a trophy as he defendingly held his hands into the air. “You should be grateful, it looks much better like this.”

Next thing he knew was the feeling of your backhand, mercilessly crushing against his collarbone.

Usually, you’d be shocked at yourself, for you had never been a person to choose violence ever before - but right now, you were too full of anger and hurt to even realize.

“You conniving craven pathetic worm!” you exclaimed, breathing heavily as you swung yet another fist towards the prince - however, he grabbed your wrists, trapping you in his hold.

In his life full of wrongdoings, he had been called worse than that - yet still, hearing insults coming from you of all people shot arrows through his heart with every word escaping his lips. Not that he’d ever admit, though.

“It was just a little prank.” Loki would’ve never thought that his actions would affect you this much. “What are you so worked up about?”

“All this time I believed there could be a good person beneath all that...but now what?” The compassion you detected in his eyes were only upsetting you even more. “You are a selfish, cruel and terrible person, and I gave up on you.”

Loki let go off of you, staring at you in disbelief:

You actually believed in him, all this time?! That was impossible!

If anything, the Odinson had always believed you to ignore his existence completely, if he wouldn’t use such drastic measures to attract your attention.

“Wait a second, I-”

“I hope you know that you deserve to be alone...” you sniveled, turning around to face him one last time before you fled the scene. “And you always will be.”

Several minutes had passed until Loki had given up in silencing he voices inside his head that told him you were right: He was indeed a despicable being, tainting your pure goodwill - repelling anyone that would still be willing to give the God of Mischief a chance.

Out of a whim, he jumped up from his place, wanting to rush after you. He was very well aware that he was probably beyond forgiveness by now, yet he at least wanted to make things up to you - even though he had no clue where to start.

“Calm down, Lady Y/N.”

Thor’s voice drang to Loki’s ears just a mere second before he saw that particular heart-wrenching scene unfold in front of him:

You were lying in his brother’s arms, crying to your heart’s extend while soothed you, softly petting what remained from your hair.  Loki remained hidden in the shadows, even though his guts told him to stab his brother right here and now.

“My brother...you know-” The God of Thunder was trying to find the right words, even though poetic speeches were not really his forte. “It’s just his speecial, twisted way of interacting. Who knows where he got that from.”

“I rather wonder if he realized how his behavior truly makes me feel” you snapped back, unwilling to keep defending him. “Weak and worthless, that’s how I feell. And every time our ways cross, he’s making it worse!”

By the gods, Loki never wanted to make you feel that way, let alone think such ways about yourself! He of all people, who knew best what its like to feel unfit and nowhere near enough.

Loki grabbed the fabric of his shirt tight, feeling that his heart might burst if he didn’t. It took everything in him to not let out a loud sob and be caught - but then, his brother snapped him out of it with an impossible question:

“Do you still love him?”

“L-Love might not be the right word, I mean-” Lately, you had let Thor in on your secret admiration for his younger brother. “With the way he’s treating me, and all-”

You just couldn’t help being drawn to him against all reason. After everything you had endured, just to be close to him - and he never even acknowledged your feelings.

And still, here you were, crying over a man that didn’t want you.

“Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s voice made you panic, immediately wriggling out of Thor’s embrace. The Odinson understood immediately, nodding towards his brother before leaving the two of you alone.

“Since when have you been standing there?!” Panic dropped to your stomach, wondering just how much he had heared.

“From the very beginning.”

Before you could even think about what to do now, Loki summoned a dagger, cutting off his raven locks in one swift move. “Wha-”

“Please, accept this as means of apology.” The man now dropped to one knee, humbly facing the ground. “I have never intended to make you doubt your most perfect self.”

Frantic, you were scanning his voice, face, anything for the slightest hint of a lie - but nothing. Loki seemed determined and sincere when he looked up to you, hesistantly taking a hold of your hand.

“This is new for me...” he uttered under his breath as his lips graced your knuckles, and only now you realized that he was trembling ever so slightly. 

“I-Is that another trick?!”

“What kind of vicious being do you think I am?” Well, after everything he had commited it was only natural of you accusing him. “There are lines not even I do not cross.”

Only for a brief second your heart felt a little bit lighter, as his eyes were locked with yours, lost in this moment you have been waited for so long...

...a little too unexpected, right?

Suddenly, you tugged your hand away, and Loki could only sigh in frustration. Of course it won’t be that easy for him to gain your trust. “I don’t need your pity, Loki...”

No matter how he racked his brain around the matter, he had burdened your shared past probably beyond the point of repair.

That would be his last chance, maybe the last time he’d ever see you again. He was so desperate in his attempt, and yet - what else could he do?

So for the first time in millenias, the God of Mischief decided to speak from the heart for a change:

"Y/N, I-I...As I said, this is new for me, so...” he cleared his throat before continuing, stress literally dropping out of every pore. “From the first day we’ve met, you...I mean...you were the most magnificent being I ever laid eyes upon, and...when I think about it now, I-I may be enarmored with you.”

Your eyes widened at this wholeheartedly confession, a sincere smile playing on his lips in contrast of sole tears running down his face.

Never before you had seen him like that: Flustered, vulnerable, and honest...

“I thought to be unworthy of your affection, so I tried to belittle you, to...I don’t even know. I’ve been told many times I am quite assertive of anyone but myself. I-I mean, I am a mess...I don’t understand my own feelings and thus drive away any chance of happiness, and...how could you ever-?”

“Mhh...” you silenced the man as your lips crushed over his, falling straight into his arms. It took Loki quite a second to fully grasp the situation before deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around you as if you’d disappear if he was to ever let go.

“Y/N...” the prince gasped when your lips parted from that breathtaking kiss - and this time it was you who wore that thug grin on your face.

"Apology accepted” you giggled, just to smother the face of this flabbergasted man in yet another thousand smaller kisses.

This had to be a dream, he thought...and immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him. He did not deserve this in the slightest.

“Now, don’t give me that look.” Cupping Loki’s face in your hands, you gifted him that heartwarming expression he had ignored for so many years, thinking it was not meant for him. “That kiss wiped my memory from everything you’ve done...by now.”

Out of sheer, genuine happiness, Loki leaped from the floor and excitedly swirled you around in his arms.

After another kiss that would kick the air right out of your lungs. the god would peck a more gentle one afterwards, as sweet and tender as no one ever thought he could be.

Even if it’s gonna be a long way, Loki would prove to be worthy of your love.

“Lady Y/N...if you are to believe in me, then I swear I will be on my best behavior from now on!”

"Let's see about that."

[zuluc]

summary: filming is great and fun with the cast but the setting might not be as such... in short, dragonspine can just not

style & genre: bulleted; modern!au, general fic

warnings: none

notes: i was on pinterest and saw fanart of a team with zhongli, diluc, fischl, and xingqiu where diluc gave his coat to fischl since she was cold. i thought that was cute ☺️ the groups are based off of random teams hehe. and this is a little smth to get these creative gears working again 😀

This is a real place they go to for ✨authenticity✨ so no green screens haha, it’s very cold

They do have hand warmers and hot packs in their clothes when they can have them and each scene is pretty reasonable with time, though some are pretty long. No one wants to risk the actors getting sick so they’re immediately huddled into large, warm jackets or next to a heater of some sort

The first group of the day is up and consists of Aether, Albedo, Klee, and Sucrose. Honestly, all of them are close to Klee since she likes to throw her bombs everywhere at anytime and they give off some heat

Albedo takes it upon himself to have Klee in his arms at all times because she’s very warm and she doesn’t mind it one bit. She’s the one who helps him reapply his chapstick since it dries pretty quickly in the new setting (see chapstick headcannon & more in the first post)

The cryo users think they’re all tough because they were made for the cold then realizing that visions aren’t real 😀 All end up right next to pyro actors who somehow all are very warm people

Nothing matters when Diluc is in your group and the other three (Xingqiu, Chongyun, and Fischl) are so thankful for that. Diluc is the warmest pyro actor so no doubt he’s the human heater. His coat is their coat

The director decided to keep the scene in when the camera was on Xingqiu and Chongyun and in the background you could see Diluc wrapping his coat around Fischl and making sure she’s warm. Her clothes are too thin for dragonspine ;-;

When “cut!” is yelled, the other two scramble into the coat as well as they press hotpacks to their face. Diluc stands there like this 🧍‍♂️because he doesn’t have a heart to tell them he wants his coat back because he got cold. Moves to a heater instead, pushing the three to it as well

The scene with Chongyun and Xingqiu was with them just taking in the view but water boy makes ice boy drop his popsicle on purpose, resulting in a comeback with Chongyun pressing his cold hands onto Xingqiu’s face

Childe, Zhongli, Venti, and Xiao are in a group and thought it was a good idea to eat snow. Xiao brought up his voicelines just for the fun of it and got roped in with Zhongli by the other two to eat it. This was all filmed for behind the scenes footage and the disappointment on Childe and Venti’s faces were caught

Xiao and Zhongli looked at them like “what’d you expect? it’s snow” to which they got told “well you ate it too!”

Their group had to be switched up because Childe wouldn’t stop picking a fight with Xiao (playfully) and they didn’t have a pyro person on to combat the cold like the other teams. Xiao gets cold easily and never misses out on the opportunity to join the “Diluc Coat Club”

The fire in lighting is real and done by a hidden lighter in their weapons that activates at the press of a button. They have to be careful to time it right or else it’ll look like they missed the spot to light the flame (and be careful in general)

Diluc has the most trouble with lighting and gets embarrassed when he misses the target so Yanfei gets to try it, but she also misses and they both sulk as Amber and Bennett get the job done quicker

The cicin mage actresses first scared the younger cast members because they were practicing their lines off to the side and their cast mates had to reassure them that they were also actors

So once that was all over they (they meaning Klee and Qiqi) kept trying to get close to see the holographic special effects (that would get enhanced even more for a shield effect in editing) causing the actresses to side eye the directors on what they should do. Well, they were just in awe with the design after getting over the “scary” part of the mages

The place where there’s the most storm is the least favorite spot for everyone. The pyro actors were set to film there anyways so the other actors just give them a thumbs up from a warmer place on the mountain

Xiangling, Xinyan, Hu Tao, and Zhongli are up for this and the trio pyro members sure make it more bearable in the cold. Zhongli’s just there to provide support for the scene and a different color palette

Xiangling is a self-trained chef on top of her acting career and finds anything and everything from their provided snack table to make some dish. She uses the fire available and feeds the group in between scenes

Zhongli’s tired but more tired with them all and is thankful for the different snacks, Hu Tao talking his ear off and Xinyan singing in the background (her voice is lovely yes)

Childe and Kaeya were put in a team together with Venti and Yanfei, the former two chatting way too much with each other when they had a scene to do. Venti and Yanfei would leave them to freeze because they wanted to get their stuff done

Childe’s lines about the snow pull concerned looks from everyone and he has to constantly assure them that they are just his characters lines. Regardless, they cover the children’s ears

If they had to rate the Dragonspine arc, it’s a solid 3 out of 10

The extra 2 points from Lumine because she didn’t have to do any scenes there yk being the abyss princess and all and it’s a pretty view. Just very, very cold

[bbygirljuvi]

Gruvia Week Day 6 - Agony

Author’s note: l know it’s very late but hope you enjoy ^^ /// hurt-comfort

Summary: This takes place in a “possible” or more likely “alternative” future where Juvia and some of the other members joined Team Natsu in Elentir, and White Priestess needs a stone formed by Selen’s magic’s remnants in order to stop Elentir from exploading.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“YOU ARE NOT GOING.”

Whole guild stopped and turned their head to the entrance, where annoyed Juvia stormed in followed by raging Gray.

“DO YOU HEAR ME. JUVIA. YOU ARE NOT GOING.”

Water mage suddenly came closer to him and speaked in a composed voice:

“Do you have a better idea then, Gray-sama?” This shut his mouth for a second.

“No” he said, greeting his teeth. “But sacrificing yourself is not an option too”

“IT IS AN ACCEPTABLE RISK” she brust out with frustration. Guild shooked by another shock wave. Had Juvia Lockser yelled at her beloved Gray-sama??

Gray could have been shocked too if he wasn’t in total rage. How could she even thought about doing this to herself! What’s worse was that he knew Juvia enough to know there was no turning back when those determination sparkes settled in her eyes.

Erza was the first one pulled herself together. She separated water and ice mages whos was looking at each other in a silent war. It was so weird seeing them like that..

“What’s going on?” Erza asked in a commending way.

“Juvia found a way in,” she started excitedly but continued more irritated “and made the mistake sharing her plan with Gray-sama first, thinking he would be supportive-“

“It’s a suicIDE MISSION” Erza warned him with a look but she had a bad feeling about this. There were a few things that could piss Gray off this much.

“Juvia realised there is an underground riverhead near here which rises to the surface around Black Moon Mountain and goes beyond it’s foot!! Juvia can sneak in using her water body, get stone samples and sneak out just as she get in!” She dropped the bomb which caused different reactions from her friends.

Natsu cheered happily “That’s perfect Juvia!” while Levy whined “Juvia!!?” in terror. Erza was rubbing her forehead, evaluating the idea. Lucy and Wendy were looking hesitant while Gajeel was shaking his had in approvement. Erza started:

“ I don’t know Juvia...There is so many things could go wrong? Sending you there alone is just...” Her words calmed the ice mage who was about to rail Natsu. His lips curled up a bit. He turned to Juvia, opened his mouth to say ‘see?’ when Erza continued:

“But I can’t think of any other way.”

“WHAT? YOU’RE APPROVING THIS?”

“Gray-sama Selene don’t know what stones can do. There won’t be any protection around the area. Riverside is maximum one minute away from magic remanence. And this is a take and run mission, Juvia can always run back if somethings go wrong-“

“You. Can’t. Know. That! We have absolutely no idea what Selene knows nor don’t. You can’t know if there is an extra protection. You can’t know her or her minions suddenly won’t feel like using the area. What if they catch you? You’ll be alone in there Juvia! We won’t be there in time if something goes wrong-“

“Gray you’re speculating-“ Erza started but he cut her short angrily

“These are not speculation, possibilities!”

“Gray she is very well capable of doing this. None of us wants to send her alone but this is our best shot.” Lucy explained in a considerate voice.

“And Juvia always had been good at sneaking. Phantom used her as a spy a lot of time.” Gajeel commented in a similar voice. Which somehow drove ice mage even more crazy.

“ I know she’s strong and capable but I also know she’s not immortal like she likes to think!”

This caused an awkward silence because everyone was aware he wasn’t entirely wrong. It was a dangerous mission with a high potential of disaster.

“What are you suggesting than Gray-sama. Should we let a dimension of people die just because it was a little dangerous for Juvia?”

“No.. but we can find another way-“

“But we couldn’t and time is ticking.” He kept his silent while examining everyone.

Lucy, Wendy and Levy were still hesitant yet accepted the situation. Natsu was confused. Gajeel was giving approval. Erza had warmed up to the idea. And lastly, Juvia was heartbroken yet determined.

His heart tightened. He knew she would do it anyway, even the whole guild would be against it. Anger he’s been desperately holding on since she told him about her plan was fading. Giving it’s crown to the actual emotion, fear. His eyes started to burn.

“Are you going to go?” He asked,

trying to keep his voice calm and straight.

“Yes”

“Fine.” he said taking a few steps back. “If you want to kill yourself, do it. But I won’t stay here and watch it.” Then he left as fast as he came.

With his exit everybody took a deep breath. Juvia felt her eyes getting filled with tears. It was their first fight. She knew his actions were fueled by worry yet this knowledge didn’t ease the pain in her heart. Erza pulled her into a hug, mumbled:

“ You know he acted like this because he cares about you a lot, right?” while caressing her hair.

“Juvia knows but it doesn’t make it any easier..” She left Erza’s arm with a last squeeze and dried corner of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry this time.

Natsu was still looking where Gray left. He was very confused. “What’s wrong with ice princess? It wasn’t like him at all.” he verbalised his confusion.

Lucy felt her eyes twitched in annoyance. “Of course It’s too much for you to understand” she grumbled as she walked to Erza and Juvia. Left even more confused Natsu behind her.

“He is not entirely wrong tho Juvia.” she sat down in front of her. “You have no obligation to put yourself in such danger.”

Juvia shook her head. “I’m doing it of my free will. Let’s stop talking about weather should i do it or not and start talking about how to do it.”

After that they made backup plans for every bad scenario they could think of. Which was a lot since Levy was a doomsayer. They thought about what tools she should took along, when she should leave, how long she should stay inside and other details until dinner time.

As they went onto the details it got more believable that this misson was doable. So at dinner everybody was in better mood, they were still worried, of course, but relaxed enough to laugh a bit.

As time went on and her leaving time, which was a little after it got dark,came closer; Erza hesitantly asked:

“Ehem Juvia.. are you sure you’re okey leaving without saying goodbye to Gray? We can found him if you want-“ She shook her head rapidly.

“If his stubbornness is more important than farewelling Juvia, there’s nothing to say.” She said determinedly. But couldn’t hide the pain crossed her heart. She hoped he would come. She thought he would come.

“And it’s almost time to go too, Juvia should get ready.” She got up with a determined smile. Looked around the trusting faces she called family and continued with a even brighter smile. “See you later, everyone.”

This time, it was Lucy who pulled her into a hug. Followed by Erza whom followed by Gajeel whom followed by Levy and a moment later whole guild was touching their one and only water mage, cheering and exchanging assuring words.

She exited from the hall followed by echoes of her friends voices. Her smile faded as she got closer to the bigger building they used as an inn. Fully aware that she would spend her remaining time suppressing her disappointment. Thinking about how stupid her ice mage is on a dangerous mission wasn’t a good idea.

That’s why she felt suprised, angry and euphoric at the same time when she saw him sitting on the floor, in front of her door. His eyes were covered by his hair. He was playing with his finger like he always did when he’s nervous. She slowly took last two ledder while her lip curled up.

When she stood in front of him, for a second he ignored her. Continued playing with his fingers as he looked down. Then slowly hugged her legs. Hid his head from her sight and mumbled:

“I’m sorry, I overreacted.” His voice was hoarse like he’d been cried a lot. “ It’s just.. I-I might not..” he squeezed her legs harder, instead of finishing his sentence. Juvia lifted his chin despite his resistance and looked into his eyes. They were red and swelled, confirming her suspicion. He’d been cried. A wave of affection passed through her veins.

He saved himself from her grip with a blush and burried his face to her legs once again. Her hands went straight to his hair, carresed it with compassion.

“You might not what?” her voice came out more eager than she intended.

“I might not be over the Invel incident...”

No shit, she thought as she kept her silence for him to say more. But mentally she was literally jumping. They were finally having this much needed conversation.

“It’s just.. I hold you in my arms as your heart slowed with every beat Juvia... There were blood everywhere a..and I was leaning on you, to feel your breaths but I...I couldn’t-“ he stoped once again when his voice broke. They stayed in that position one or two minute. He slowly continued. whispering this time:

“I saw the world without you, Juvia. And I can’t afford living in it. I can’t”

She slied into his arms and sat down on his lap, pulled his head to her breast as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Gray-sama do you remember, while we were fighting against eclipse dragons, we had a vision that Gray-sama was...gone.”

He lifted his head just for a second. “I do..”

“Well, Juvia does too. She had many sleepless night over that. Waiting him return from missions were literally torture. She even pucked out of anxiety once when he was late. She wanted him to choose safer jobs, no, she wanted to lock him in case.

“She blamed herself a lot too. For being so weak, so careless..” Gray lifted his head again, to object this time but she stopped him.

“Then one day, you stepped on Natsu-san’s scarf while he was hiding under the table to prank Lucy and didn’t get up for a while.” She chuckled to annoyed growlings he made. His nose had broken that night.

“And at that moment she realised she couldn’t destroy every hidden scarfs standing his way. So instead of waiting some bad thing to happen her beloved Gray-sama and missing her chance at the process; she decided to enjoy every moment they had together until separation was inevitable. And hope that day won’t come for a long long time.”

He was looking her with a complex expression. A small smiled formed on his lips a moment later. Now it was his turn to pull her into his chest. “ I can try that” he said softly. Then his expression hardened a bit.

“But you still have to promise me you will drop the mission if some out of plan situation occurs.”

“She promise she will be reasonable.” He sighed and said

“Fair enough. And I will break into if you won’t return till sunrise.”

“Juvia will definitely return then.” She looked outside “To be able to keep her promise she needs to get ready now” His lips curled down immediately. Like a kid whose candy has taken away from him.

She pinched his cheeks near his pouty lips with a reassuring smile before going into her room.

Approximately 10 minutes later she came out wearing tights, small backpack and one of his shirt she owned while they were living together. That cheered him up a bit. She offered her hand to him:

“Let’s go down to others.” He hold her hand but stayed still instead of gettting up.

“I don’t want them to see me like this,” showed his eyes “Would it be okey if we say goodbye here?”

She kneeled in front of him and hugged him tightly, whispered:

“See you later, Gray-sama.” And pulled back quickly, feeling his intention of keeping her in there another half an hour.

She was just about to get up when she felt his grip on her armed, followed by a sudden kiss on her cheek.

“Good luck kiss,” He said while his grin got bigger as her flushing got deeper. “Now go!”

He ambivalently watched his girl left for an extremly dangerous mission; stumbling and smiling like a silly.

[animezing-fandoms]

No More Waiting (Gruvia Week 2021 series) Chapter 1: Beguile

Masterlist

Relationships: Gruvia, background Nalu.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced smut.

Series Summary: After the 100 Years Quest, Gray’s finally ready to be in a relationship with Juvia. And after pining for each other for so long, things escalate quickly. 

Chapter Summary: Fairy Tail goes to the beach for a weekend for Sorcerer Weekly to take pictures of them. And seeing Juvia in a swimsuit, has Gray feeling some kind of way.

A/N: For gruvia week I decided that instead of writing a bunch of one-shots, I’d string all the prompts together into a mini-series! Each chapter based off of one prompt for each day. So here’s the first one for “beguile”! Enjoy!

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

You’d think that an ice Wizard would hate going to the beach. But Gray actually enjoyed it quite a bit. The weather was warm but if he got too hot it was easy to cool down with his magic. Not to mention, it was perfectly acceptable for him to wear minimal clothing. 

“Gray you’re naked!” Lucy exclaims.

Perhaps not that minimal. 

Gray turns around to see where he discarded his swimming trunks and hurries back to put them on. 

“Sorcerer Weekly paid for us to come here because they want pictures of Fairy Tail wizards having a day at the beach for their Summer issue. Not idiots in the nude.” Lucy scolds Gray. 

“You’re one to talk.” Gray retorts. “You’re practically nude yourself. That bikini you’ve got on under your cover up barely covers anything.” 

That earned him a smack upside the head. 

“At least I’m not flashing my goods to anyone like you.” Lucy says.

“Fair enough.” Gray says and rubs the back of his head. 

He looks around at all of the people on the beach. There were Fairy Tail guild members and a few civilians. But the one person he wanted to see most, seemed nowhere to be found…

“Looking for Juvia?” Lucy asks teasingly. 

Gray stiffens up and Lucy giggles. When he turns around to see her smirking face, he bristles with annoyance. 

Ever since the 100 Years Quest ended, it was pretty obvious to everyone that he returned the water mage’s feelings for him. It was true, he was in love with Juvia. But he didn’t love all of the teasing from his friends that came with it.

“No. Aren’t you wondering where Natsu is?” Gray asks. 

That got her. Lucy blushes and looks away from him. 

“Well yeah but it’s not like I’m dying to see him or anything.” Lucy says as she sets down her stuff and starts to unpack. 

“Really. Because I think you may have bought that new swimsuit just to impress him.” Gray says.

That earned him a whack in the head from her beach bag that knocked him into the sand. 

“That is completely idiotic!” Lucy exclaims before taking off her cover up, revealing her pale skin, and white bikini to the salty air of the beach. “Besides, it’s Natsu. You know he doesn’t care about stuff like that.” 

“Hey Ice Princess!” 

Speak of the devil, Gray thinks to himself as he turns around and sees Natsu running up to them, carrying a beach ball under his arm. 

“Come play volleyball with me! I know that I’m better at it than you! I’ll totally kick your ass!” He taunts. 

“We’ve only been here for ten minutes and you’re already challenging him to a fight?” Lucy asks. 

Natsu looks over Gray’s shoulder, to see Lucy and his playful demeanor instantly changes to a flustered one when he sees her. Gray was shocked. Natsu has never shown any interest in women or relationships before. He’s never gotten flustered by them either. While all of the guys in the guild would be drooling over sexy women, Natsu couldn’t care less. Until now, apparently. His eyes were glued to Lucy’s form and his cheeks began to heat up. 

Lucy began to get flustered under his gaze. Gray could tell she was just as shocked by Natsu’s reaction as he was. Although Lucy was probably hoping this would happen someday, but she didn’t expect it to actually come to be. 

“W-what do you think Natsu?” Lucy asks shyly, tilting her head to the side and pushing her chest forward a bit to try to look more attractive. 

“You look…great.” Natsu answers.

Lucy blushes and looks away from him. 

“Oh…thanks.” She says. “You like my new bikini?”

“Yeah it looks perfect!” He compliments and Lucy has to cover her mouth to stop herself from squealing in surprise and excitement. “It’s perfect for playing ball with me and Gray! Think fast!” He exclaims and tosses the ball at her, and it hits her in the head.

Gray smiles and laughs. Natsu sure had them both going for a second there. But sure enough, he was still his same old dense self. It was obvious he was into Lucy but he still didn’t know how to show it properly yet. So nothing out of the ordinary or groundbreaking would be happening today. 

“Gray-sama!” A familiar voice calls to him from the ocean.

Or so he thought. When he turns to see Juvia, he suddenly realizes why Natsu was so flustered when he saw Lucy in her swimsuit, because he was feeling the exact same way about seeing Juvia in hers. 

She was wearing a simple light blue bikini, the same color as her hair. The top was held together by a knot in the front under her breasts, tying the two pieces of fabric together. So her cleavage was on full display. And as she made her way out of the water and towards him, he couldn’t help but stare at her legs. He always thought they were her best feature. They were strong, hiding powerful muscles under smooth, soft skin. Soft skin that glistened in the sunlight from the water droplets that remained from the ocean. By the time she was in front of him, he was practically in a trance, lost in her beauty.

“Could you help Juvia put up her beach umbrella by her towel? Gray-sama?” She asks when he doesn’t answer her. 

She was confused. He was staring at her, but he couldn’t seem to hear her. And his eyes didn’t seem to be on hers, they seemed to be looking at something lower…She waves her hand in front of his face and he snaps out of it. 

“Huh? Did you say something Juvia?” Gray asks, embarrassed that he caught her staring.

“Yes. Juvia asked if Gray-sama wanted to help her set up her umbrella?” Juvia asks again.

“Oh yeah! Sure!” Gray answers a little too quickly. 

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

She brings him to her towel and he immediately gets to work with the umbrella, using the task as an excuse not to look at her so he could get his thoughts in order. But then when he turns around to stand the umbrella up, she bends over to try to pick up a hermit crab she spotted, and his thoughts became even more scrambled. And now the umbrella wasn’t the only thing standing up.

Even before he returned his feelings for her, he’d always found her attractive. I mean who wouldn’t. But seeing her like this now that he knew he liked her, he couldn’t help but let his imagination indulge in thoughts of what her smooth skin would feel like under his hands. And what it would be like to touch the places that were covered underneath the fabric of her swimwear. How it would feel to have those long, gorgeous legs wrapped his waist while she moans his name in the throes of passion-

“Gray Fullbuster and Juvia Lockser sharing a towel together on the beach! So cool!” Jason exclaims, spotting them and coming over. 

Gray lets out a sigh of relief. This would be a good distraction from his smutty thoughts, for sure. 

“Hi Jason!” Juvia greets the photographer cheerfully. “Juvia found a hermit crab in the sand!” 

She shows him the little crab and he inspects it. 

“So cool!” He answers, predictably and Juvia sets the creature back down in the sand.

“Have you gotten any good photos so far?” Gray asks. 

“You bet!” Jason answers enthusiastically. “You Fairy Tail wizards make the hot beach look so cool! And seeing an ice make wizard, and a water mage, the two coolest magic element wizards standing here together in the sun has inspired an awesome idea for a photo! Can I take a picture of you two together on the towel?” 

“Oh Juvia would love that!” Juvia says and bounces on her feet. 

Gray gulps, as the action causes her breasts to move a bit and he was suddenly beginning to feel flustered again.

“Would Gray-sama pose on the towel with Juvia?” Juvia asks him. 

Even though Gray knew that getting close to her when her body was so exposed like this was a bad idea, he couldn’t say no to her. He’s already disappointed her too many times. 

“Sure, why not.” Gray says simply and the look of joy on her face was enough to make him smile too. 

“So cool!” Jason exclaims. 

Jason directed Gray to sit on the towel, so his side was facing the camera. And then he instructed Juvia to sit on top of him…on his lap…

“Uh…She’s gonna sit where?” Gray asks, with his face starting to turn red.

“She’ll be straddling you on your lap.” Jason explains.

“Is Gray-sama okay with that?” Juvia asks, blushing a bit as well.

Gray looks her over once again and considers his options. She’s just sitting on his lap, surely he could control himself right?

“Yeah, hop right on.” Gray says as confidently as he can.

Gray gulps as Juvia swings her leg over him so she’s straddling him and then sits herself down in his lap. He was eye-level with her ample chest and he could see the droplets of ocean-water roll down the valley between them. And the feeling of her warm, supple thighs on either side of his hips, squeezing him was making his mind head straight for the gutter as he imagined being in-between her legs for something other than a picture. He gently squeezes her sides as it takes all of his will-power to stay calm and collected. But any control he may have had over himself slipped away instantly when she gently held his chin in her fingers and tilted his head up to look at her.

“Gray-sama, is there a problem?” Juvia asks in a soft voice while Jason takes some pictures of them.

She was so beautiful. Like an ocean Goddess. And he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted her, and neither could his body. And soon Juvia could feel that against her and she gasps.

“Yeah. A big problem!” He mutters.

Gray gets up immediately and runs into the changing room, losing his swim trunks in the process, but that didn’t matter. He was alone now. He could take care of himself in here. But what he didn’t realize is that the cause of his arousal had followed after him to return his clothes to him. 

So when Juvia pulled back the curtains to announce herself, she got a full view of what she had done.

“Gray-sama are you alright-Oh!” Juvia exclaims when she sees the cause of his distress. 

Her pale face turns bright red and she covers her hands over mouth to keep from screaming as her eyes stay fixed on his crotch unable to look away, and neither could Gray. His eyes were fixed on her, wondering which one of them would speak first. 

“You...you were right.” Juvia says softly. “That is a...big problem.” She gulps and averts her gaze. 

Gray takes the opportunity to grab his trunks and pull them on. She was staying silent, which was less of a relief and more of a worry to Gray. Normally she couldn’t stop talking  and she’d cling to him. But now she was silent and unsure as she looks away from him.

“Gray-sama...” she says softly. 

“Yes Juvia?” Gray replies. 

She turns to face him again and meets his gaze. 

“Did Juvia...do that?” She asks shyly. 

Normally Gray would’ve lied. He would have denied it, called her crazy and stormed out while she chased after him. But things were different now. Now that he had become a man who could protect her, he didn’t have to reject her advances. Nor did he want to. He wanted her more than anything, and she had a right to know that. 

“Yes.” Gray answers.

Juvia’s eyes widen and she lets out a soft gasp. 

“You’re so beautiful Juvia, and you look so sexy in that swimsuit. I couldn’t help but get turned on. I’m sorry.” Gray explains. 

“Why is are you sorry Gray-sama?” Juvia asks. 

Getting more confident, she steps closer to Gray and he gulps. 

“Juvia has always wanted Gray-sama. So now if he wants Juvia...” She says and stops right in front of him, standing up on her tip-toes to kiss him. “He can take her.” 

So he did. 

He wraps one arm around her waist and holds her cheek in his other hand and brings his lips to hers. 

Juvia was surprised at first, but let herself melt into the kiss. Her hands moving up his chest to rest on his shoulders as they kissed. 

As they make out, she presses her body more firmly against his and Gray’s hands can’t help but wander her body. 

She presses up against the tent in his trunks, causing Gray to groan “Juvia” and Juvia to moan “Gray-sama”, a noise that only turns him on more. 

But before she can take off her top like she was working on doing, Gray places his hands over hers to stop her. 

“Wait.” He says. 

Juvia’s lustful gaze turns to one of worry. Gray felt a twinge of regret, knowing because of their past that she was afraid he would reject her again. But he wasn’t. In fact he was doing the opposite. 

“Come with me.” Gray says simply and takes her hand to lead her out of the changing room. 

Juvia’s heart soars with excitement. 

“Gray-sama, what are you doing?” She asks. 

“Taking you on a date.” Gray says and Juvia stops breathing for a moment. 

“Oh Gray-sama! That makes Juvia so happy! But why do you want to go on a date instead of just making love to Juvia?” Juvia asks. “Does Gray-sama not want Juvia in that way?”

“No. I do. But I figure that if we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it right.” Gray tells her. “And you mean too much to me for me to just screw you before I’ve done something to show you that I care about you.” 

Juvia blushes and runs up closer to Gray to hug his arm. 

“Juvia knows that you care about her. But whatever Gray-sama wants to do, Juvia is fine with.” Juvia says. 

“Alright then let’s go on a date.” Gray says. 

And with that they walk into the woods together.

[martsonmars]

Six Sentence Sunday

Thanks @urban-sith @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @johnwgrey @fatalfangirl for the tags!

You've heard of Six Sentence Sunday, but what about Six WIPs Sunday???

Under the cut because it's going to be a long ride.

1. I'm still on my Daphne bullshit, so here's a sequel that idk when will see the light.

Her husband had taken the receiver and listened to his son say, The Mage is dead. He had just nodded, and she didn't know if she was more happy that he hadn't burst into tears, or more disappointed by the lack of reaction – because if this didn't shake him, she had no hope of affecting him ever again.

2. For COC Day 2 - Wings, that I'll probably finish for next year's COC. (A bit NSFW.)

I push him off me – barely containing a whine when his fingers slip out of me and leave me even emptier than usual – and kneel on the floor. It’s hard and cold against my skin, and it feels like the right punishment for the kind of person I am. My father would probably laugh if he saw me now, naked and almost begging at the feet of a passionate socialist. (Then his laugh would turn into a mask of almost dissimulated disgust.) (Then he’d kick me out of my mother’s house and never let me see my siblings again.)

3. For COC Day 10 - Body Swap. Thanks Christina for suggesting gossip material.

He snorts, and I know I’m not the only one reliving the conversation we had last week – he’s seriously convinced Miss Possibelf and nurse Christy are shagging, but he’s just wrong. (It’s Possibelf and Professor Mino, of course. I even sold twelve Minobelf pins since the start of the school year. I know I’m right.)

“Well, let’s avoid teacher talk then,” I concede. “Do you think Gareth thrusts his hips in private too, or he does it only for our enjoyment?”

4. Specky Baz chapter 3! It's fully outlined but between writing crises and exams idk when I'll have time to write it.

But we're always touching anyway. Holding hands in the classes we share (I've never been more glad that I'm right-handed and he's not) and during meals, even when our friends start making gagging sounds and call us disgusting. (The teachers don't say anything. Mr Benedict tried to say we were disrupting the classroom's atmosphere, but when Baz quietly complained with Miss Possibelf she told the professor to shut up, because holding hands is not a crime and he did not comment when Elspeth basically sat in her boyfriend's lap half of the time last year.)

5. Goblin!Baz. I haven't forgotten about it. After COC and server exchange are over I'll pick it up again because I miss it.

“Magic doesn’t want you dead,” I say. It’s true. I don’t think magic is sentient, and even if it were it probably couldn’t be arsed to worry about stupid fights. This is a stupid fight. The Mage never even told me why it started. When he began teaching me about dark creatures he just told me the goblins were evil and dangerous for Normals and mages and any other poor creature. He told me they were bloodthirsty monsters feeding on the flesh of their victims. Then he brought me to a meeting I don’t remember a word of, and he took me to that club and made me kill them. Like you’d kill a mosquito that’s bothering you in the middle of the night.

I don’t think the Mage ever stops to wonder if these creatures have a life.

6. Snippet of exchange fic that I've written right now here on Tumblr just to share it.

"So? Are you going to stand all day in the middle of the room like a proper numpty?" she asks, waving her broom in the air so threateningly that my (sometimes awake by miracle) self-preservation instinct makes me duck my head. I'm cowering in fear in front of a woman who's a whole head shorter than me, and this is probably how the world should work.

I realise I still haven't moved, so I pick up my bag and look at her helplessly.

"You really have no idea how to be in the world, do you?" she says, something that dangerously looks like a smile softening her face. I shake my head and she pushes her glasses up her nose. "Alright. Let's start over. I'm Penelope. Penelope Bunce."

If you've made it this far, I love you. If you haven't, I love you anyway.

Tagging @wellbelesbian @tea-brigade @sillyunicorn @mostlymaudlin @facewithoutheart @palimpsessed @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @forabeatofadrum @bazzybelle @prettylightsbigcity @dragoneggo if you have anything to share or just to say hi <3

[writtenjewels]

Jealousy

Cullen sat with his hands wrapped around the mug of beer he ordered. Over in a corner of the tavern he could see Dorian talking to Bull. Now and then the mage would say something that would make the qunari laugh or vice versa, and Cullen would take another sip of beer. He knew that Bull didn't hate all people from Tevinter-- one of his Chargers was from that land-- but Cullen did think that Dorian and Bull disliked each other. When did they get so chummy?

He knew he should be glad that they were getting along. They were part of the Inquisitor's inner circle; she depended on them in fights. So then why could Cullen only feel anger and sadness when watching the two of them? It made no sense to him, but then again he had put away a lot of beer by now. His thought process was becoming less coherent. He glanced over again and saw Dorian actually touch Bull's arm.

That did it for Cullen. He rose to his feet and left the tavern. He made it over to the well and splashed some water on his face. This was only because he was drunk, Cullen reasoned, or well on his way at least. It had nothing to do with wishing he was the one talking and laughing with Dorian or feeling the mage's hand on his arm.

“Cullen?” His head turned at the voice. Dorian had followed him out here. “Oh, good, you didn't fall in. I was a bit worried when I saw you stumbling out of the tavern.”

“I needed fresh air,” the commander explained.

“You look terrible,” the mage went on. “Do you need help getting up to your room?”

“There's no need. You can go back to Bull.” Cullen heard the words come out of his mouth and inwardly cursed his drink-loosened tongue.

“I have no idea what the Iron Bull has to do with anything.” Cullen sighed and braced a hand on the well to keep the world from tilting the wrong way. Dorian's face shifted to an expression of realization. “Do you think that Bull and I...? No, I'm not--”

“Doesn't matter,” Cullen interrupted. “Flirt with him as much as you want. Doesn't matter.”

“It doesn't?” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Dorian sounded almost disappointed. Cullen drank some of the well water hoping it would clear his head.

“I need to lie down,” Cullen decided. He pushed himself away from the well and headed toward his quarters. “And I can get there on my own,” he added before Dorian could offer help again.

“If you insist,” the other man said. “Go easier on the drink next time.”

Cullen eventually made it to his office but ascending the ladder felt like far too much work at the moment. Instead he decided to rest on the floor of his office. He closed his eyes and was annoyed that the first image that popped in his mind was Dorian's hand on Bull's arm. The mixture of anger and pain that image brought him was slightly dulled by the alcohol.

Doesn't matter, he tried to tell himself. But he wasn't quite drunk enough to believe it.

[waiting4inspiration]

Her Eyes VIII: It’s hard to love a Dragon

Summary: Meeting your father for the first time doesn’t go off the way you thought it would and you end up having to have to make a hard decision...

Warnings: angst, strong language, magical elements, mentions of death during child birth, small fluff, i think that’s it 

Word Count: 2,405

Her Eyes Masterlist II The Witcher Masterlist

You don’t know what it is that makes you sure that this black dragon in front of you is your father, Armen, but you can feel it deep inside you. You just know it is. Also, had this dragon not been your father, you don’t think it would have stayed around much longer after saving you and Geralt from the Magick Hunters. 

Expecting him to shift into his human form, you stare up at him as he slowly lays down to get a bit closer to you, more down on to your level. “You look just like your mother when I first met her,” your father says, his head shifting over to Geralt as he takes a step forward. 

You know dragons speak through telepathy, but you’re unsure if Geralt heard his voice too or if it was just you. “I’ve heard so much about you from my uncle. Why won’t you shift into human form?” you question, your hand dropping away from his snot as you take a small step back, hoping that it will encourage him to turn into the figure you’ve longed to see. 

Your father sighs, his head dropping as he shakes it. “I gave up that form just before you were born so that you would be born human and that it might make things easier for your mother,” he explains, but it makes you frown in confusion. “Every woman that carries a Dragon-Born dies in childbirth because the child will have some dragon feature. I thought that by giving up my human form and passing it to you, your mother might survive,” he adds, hoping that it makes sense to you. 

Looking at Geralt, his gaze turning to you, you see a kind of guilty look in his eyes. It tells you that he has indeed heard your father’s voice and he knew something that was said. Whether it is the fact that there was no saving your mother, or that not all Dragon-Borns are only born with eyes like yours, you’re not sure. “Geralt?” you whisper, urging him to confess what it is he knew and kept secret from you. 

“All Dragon-Borns have different features when they are born which makes it difficult for the mother to carry and birth them,” he starts, slowly taking a step towards you as the dragon’s head turns to him. “Features like wings, horns, claws, scales. Your father giving up his human form and passing it to you is why you will look more human than the other Dragon-Borns. But dragon in your blood-”

“Made my eyes different from everyone else,” you finish for him, your head turning from him as you think about what this city you were intending to go to will look like with people with wings, scales, and horns. They’d think you are a human until they’d see your eyes. And yet, you think you might feel like you wouldn’t belong there even if you would be surrounded by people like you. “She still died.”

Armen moves his head so that he catches your gaze, making you look up at him again. “Not because of what you are,” he whispers, moving his head closer to you. “There were other complications. I know because I was outside the city when you were born. Your uncle told me what happened, and-” He pauses for a moment, something inside you imagines that he’s smiling to himself. “He showed you to me,” he finishes, joy in his voice and he chuckles to try and makes you smile. 

But you shake your head and take a step backward. “Then you decided to leave and never have anything to do with me?”

“I couldn’t just stay in the city as a dragon.”

“No, but a visit every now and then would have been nice,” you snap at him, your hands clenching at your side as you narrow your eyes at him. “I wanted what everyone around me had. I wanted to know my father and not wander around as if I were a cursed orphanage,” you state, anger in your voice and your eyes glowing brightly with your rage. “I wanted to be taught about the magick in my veins from someone who actually knows about it, not by a mage who only knows because of a book he read. I wanted my father,” you state, turning away from him and facing Geralt. 

“And you,” you begin, pointing a finger at him and making him almost scared to say anything. “I find myself questioning how much you really know about my kind and how many more secrets you’re keeping from me,” you sneer, shaking your head in disappointment as you drop your hand and walk away, passing the charred circle in the grass from your encounter with the Hunters. 

Geralt watches you walk away, thinks your father will follow you when you disappear from their sights. When the dragon doesn’t move, Geralt takes a step forward. “Leave her to cool down,” Armen speaks to stop him, moves to stand on his feet as the Witcher looks up at him. “You’ve probably realized by now she’s a bit of a hot-head. Almost all Dragon-Borns are,” Armen chuckles, his head moving to the direction you walk off in. 

You’re safe, wherever you have gone. Both Geralt and Armen doubt that whatever’s left of the Magick Hunters are gone and won’t be coming back while the dragon has his feet on the ground. 

“I had a feeling this journey wasn’t going to be an easy one the moment I saw her. And what she is,” Geralt admits, his gaze following the dragon’s and his mind wondering about what it is you're doing to relieve your frustration. He wonders if this will hinder your plans to travel with him or if you will change your mind. 

Armen’s eyes have shifted down to the Witcher, watching him stare off in the distance after you and he knows the meaning behind the shifting on his feet. “I must ask you to let her go,” Armen whispers, his words causing Geralt’s head to snap up at him. “She belongs with people like her, not wandering around the continent where any Magick Hunter can get to her,” he adds. Geralt now knows what he means. “She’ll be safe in the mountains with the other Dragon-Borns. And even as a Witcher, I do not think you will have the strength to fight off those that want her magick. You must see the job Dormond gave you through.”

Geralt shakes his head and turns away from the dragon to walk a bit away from him. How can he do that after what happened last night? After you agreed to go with him when he asked? How can he say goodbye after all that’s happened on this journey? 

Taking a deep breath when he hears Armen shifting behind him, moving so that he can face Geralt, the Witcher closes his eyes as his jaw goes tense. “It is hard to love a Dragon. Hard, and dangerous,” Armen states with sadness in his voice. 

“She doesn’t belong in the mountains-”

“Then where does she belong?” Armen snaps at Geralt’s words, his rough tone making the Witcher turn back around to face him. “In a Kingdom where people curse her every time they see her because she is different than them? Roaming around the land as an open target for the Magick Hunters still out there? Tell me where she belongs, seeing as you know better than I, Witcher.”

There’s a growl in Armen’s voice that tells Geralt to stand down. It’s still in the Witcher’s code not to fight a dragon and he’ll take it as verbally as well as physically. So, he stands down by turning his gaze away. 

“We leave soon and won’t stop until nightfall,” the dragon speaks as he turns and heads in the direction you walked off. And there is nothing Geralt can do or say to stop that goodbye he thought he’d put off come back. 

You fall to sit on the ground, panting and resting your arms on your knees as you look up at the tree that took the brunt of your frustration. Akius taught you that when you’re angry it’s best to get rid of that energy through your powers, through fire. It was either something like conjuring and creating something with fire or you destroying something. But now, you felt like lashing out which resulted in the bark of the tree being burnt to a crisp. You won’t let the fire spread, you have enough control to prevent that from happening. 

Seeing the result of your anger and frustration makes your head drop and a deep sigh to leave your lips as you weave your fingers through your hair. You grip your roots, tug them lightly, and groan to yourself as you lift your gaze back up to the tree in front of you. 

There’s a rustle behind you making your head snap to the side and your hands drop away from your hair. You hear heavy footsteps, ones that practically make the ground shake. It can only mean that it’s your father. 

He doesn’t say anything as he walks up beside you. Instead, he looks at the burnt tree for a moment before he moves to lay down so he can be closer to your level. “This is your way of dealing with your frustrations?” he questions in a small chuckle. 

“It’s what I was taught after-” You stop, bite your lip harshly as your head drops again. “You have no idea what my life was like growing up,” you whisper as you rest your arms on your knees and link your hands together. 

Armen shifts, breathes out a long breath that you hear come from deep within his chest. “No, I don’t. But I do know what it feels like to feel so alone when you’re young,” he says, making your head lift up so you can look at him. “And what it feels like to be hated after burning down half a kingdom.”

Your eyebrows knit together and you shift in your spot at his words. Shaking your head in confusion, you look back at your hands and clenching them tightly together. “How do you know about that?” you ask, still looking up at him as he turns his gaze from the burnt tree to you. 

“Do you really think Akius was the one that thought to teach you control?” he laughs, tilting his head to the side as a small smile grows on your face at the sound of hearing him laugh. “I wasn’t always far away from you. I saw you let your anger get the better of you and burn down half the kingdom just as I saw you save a family from their burning house,” he adds, lowering his head a bit so his eyes meet with yours. 

For a moment, you thought you were looking in a mirror because of how similar his eyes are to yours. They’re basically identical. 

Blinking that thought away, you clear your throat and frown at him. “How did you…” you trail off when you stare into his eyes again. But then something happens that you can’t explain. You see yourself. It’s like you’re looking at yourself through someone else’s eyes. 

It makes a breath catch in your throat and when you blink, you’re looking back up at your father. “We share a strong connection because you are my direct descendant. I can see what you see. And you can see what I see if you learn how.”

You’re completely baffled. Here your father is, telling you things you’re pretty sure Akius never could. How much more is there behind it all? 

“How do I learn that?” you ask in a whisper, excited and yet scared at the same time for his answer. 

He makes a sound that’s like the purring of a cat. And if he was in human form, you’re sure he would be smiling at you. “I can teach you. I can teach you everything that you don’t know about being Dragon-Born,” he says, making your heart fill with a fiery joy. It’s what you’ve wanted ever since you can remember. He’s going to be the father you’ve wished for. “But, on the condition that you live with the others like you in the mountains and say goodbye to the Witcher.”

That makes your smile fall. 

It wasn’t what you planned. Maybe in the beginning you wanted to be around people like you. Maybe you wanted to walk in the streets and for once not be looked at like you’re a jester or have people whisper rude things about you. You wanted to belong somewhere, and you thought that you could have that traveling beside Geralt across the continent. 

You don’t know what to choose. Why can’t you have both? You suppose it wouldn’t do well for Geralt to have a massive black dragon giving away his position. And sometimes, Witcher’s work will lead him into big cities and kingdoms not suited for your father. Not to mention that your father might catch someone’s eye for a trophy. 

“I can’t just forget what I feel for Geralt,” you whisper as your head drops away from looking at him.

Armen understands. He knows what it’s like to have to choose between something that will do well and the one you love. He was in that position when he fell in love with your mother. He chose the one he loves, and he lost that. He doesn’t want you to know that kind of feeling; heartache. 

“I’m asking you to forget,” he softly says, standing to his feet and breathing out a loud huff that makes your head turn up to him again. “I only want what’s best for you.”

With that, he turns and walks away, back to where he came from. You look back at the charred tree, bite on your lower lip as you try to come up with a choice. It’s going to be hard and you’re not sure if you have the heart to deal with the consequences of either choice. 

Sighing heavily, you push yourself off the ground. Dusting your hands off on your thighs, you turn to follow your father and rejoin Geralt. Your choice will without a doubt hurt you and one other person. 

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[tmae3114]

IT MAY HAVE GONE MIDNIGHT MY TIME BUT IT’S STILL HERO APPRECIATION DAY IN SOME TIMEZONE AND THEREFORE YOU GET THIS FIC I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED AFTER WORKING ON IT FOR A WHILE ON THE BEST DAY FOR POSTING IT

The position of this in the Book 3 timeline is ~nebulous~ but it’s sometime after the hero sees Warlic again for the first and before Warlic and Alexander started working together

trust in me (and I’ll trust you too)

For a moment, the words refuse to make sense. He knows what everything she just said means individually but those words put together in that order don’t make a coherent concept. Only for a moment. All too soon, clarity crashes on him like icy water down his spine.

“…you’re here to invite me to a party?”

Or: a hero and a mage have a conversation, trauma sucks, and actual age differences mean nothing in the face of Big Sister Instincts™

[AO3]

-

There is, for some yet-to-be-determined reason, an adventurer asleep on his couch.

Warlic pauses mid-step to contemplate this fact for a few moments, then realises that the cup of tea he forgot in the kitchen is going to keep going cold if he doesn’t return to hurrying to fetch it.

One severe disappointment in the form of a stone cold cup of tea and the necessary subsequent brewing of a replacement later, there continues to be an adventurer asleep on his couch. In full armour, no less. Even after all these years, he is no closer to understanding how that can possibly be comfortable, for all it never seems to bother her.

He sips his tea contemplatively, then clears his throat pointedly.

That prompts a stirring. Ro blinks up at him, looking for all the world like there is no reason at all to question her napping on his couch. She yawns widely, her jaw audibly popping, and stretches languidly in a very catlike way.

Then, in a movement that is all seal, she twists and flops sideways off of the couch.

“Hi, Warlic,” she greets from the floor, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Hello, Ro,” he replies, taking another sip of his tea. “I assume that Cysero let you in?”

“Mmhmm.”

There is no elaboration on that. She seems perfectly content to simply lie on the floor and wait for him to say or do something else.

He drinks more of his tea.

She tilts her head slightly.

His sigh is fonder than he’d care to admit.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you,” he says, arching his visible eyebrow “But are you here for a reason?”

She clicks her tongue and twists in a way that is probably supposed to help her get upright but more strongly resembles a seal in the banana pose than anything else.

“I needed a nap and your tower is always so nice and quiet,” she says, voice cheerful and dry.

In the distance, something – hopefully on Cysero’s side of the tower – explodes.

Ro giggle-snorts as she leverages herself upright using the arm of the couch she rolled off of.

“Aye, awright, point taken!” she calls in the general direction of the explosion.

“A social visit, then?” Warlic prompts, hiding his smile behind the rim of his teacup. “You usually give advance warning for those.”

“Ehhh,” Ro replies, making a wobbly see-saw motion with one hand, halfway sitting on the arm of the couch now “Social with a purpose?”

“Do tell.”

“Artix is wanting to dae a thing,” she says, twirling one hand in a circle as though to encompass the incredibly vague concept of ‘a thing’ “Away out at the keep? Hanging out and having a meal and stuff, ‘cept he doesnae know who’ll be up for it. I-” here, she makes an overly dramatic gesture to herself, the fingers of one hand splayed over her heart “-volunteered tae come see if you lot-” a wide sweeping gesture, clearly meant to encompass the tower and its inhabitants “-were free and when, seeing as I’m popping ‘round t’see Cysero aw the time anyways,”

For a moment, the words refuse to make sense. He knows what everything she just said means individually but those words put together in that order don’t make a coherent concept. Only for a moment. All too soon, clarity crashes on him like icy water down his spine.

“…you’re here to invite me to a party?”

“I mean…” Ro leans back, one arm braced against the back, one ankle loosely slung over the other, casual and so, so at ease “Less a party and more just dinner wi’ friends but aye, thereabouts.”

Are you mad?

The words stick in his throat. His stomach twists painfully. Just as he vaguely begins to hope that it isn’t showing outwardly, that he’ll be able to excuse himself quickly and without a fuss, his tea betrays him by sloshing loudly over the side of the cup.

Ro is by his side in an instant, one hand whisking the cup away from him and the other winding around his back to support him by the opposite elbow, gently but firmly steering him to the couch. He is vaguely aware of a quiet narrative litany – “Woah, ‘kay, c’mere, let’s just-” – accompanying these actions, then he blinks and is sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, knuckles white and chest tight. He blinks again, once, twice, staring down at his hands, then up to look at the adventurer sitting at his side. The way that she meets and holds eye contact with him for a few moments more than gives away the worry lurking underneath the calm on her face. His cup of tea is no longer in her hands. A quick glance reveals it to be set down on a coaster on a side table.

“So,” Ro says, pulling his attention back to her “That was a reaction.”

The noise he makes in response to that is somewhere between a snort and a gasp.

“Do you realise,” he asks, voice trembling despite his best efforts “how dangerous what you suggested is?”

She leans a bit closer and rests one of her hands over his clasped ones. The cool metal of her gauntlet is almost grounding.

“It’s not,” she says. Just like the way she guided him to sit, her voice is both gentle and firm. Kind but unyielding. It’s the voice she uses for Heroics.

“It is, how can you not-”

“Ah, of course, silly me,” she interrupts, voice now completely flat. “How could I not have foreseen the incredible danger inherent in you leaving this tower for a few hours to spend some time with your friends. You’re right, that’s an absolutely mental idea. Whatever was I thinking.”

His breath shudders. A distant part of him notes that she seems to have switched from the casual mix of Common and her native tongue she favours in the company of friends to the – as she puts it, with air quotes, rolled eyes, and disdain – “more proper” Greenguardian dialect of Common that she uses for everything from strangers to snotty nobles; the one she uses to ensure she’ll be understood, for better or for worse. She almost certainly doesn’t realise that she’s done it. That distant part of him aches.

He takes another hitching breath.

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

She sighs and shifts to face him more fully, tucking one leg up underneath herself as she sits sideways, and moving her other hand so that both of hers are covering both of his. It helps stop the shaking, a little bit.

“You’re scared. I get it. You’ve told me it wasn’t safe for you to leave before and I believe you. But it’s been years now, Warlic, and if it’s safe for me to come here, why isn’t it safe for you to leave, just for a little bit?”

Because it’s different. Because he could lose control at any moment but maybe here it could be contained. Because it’s his fault, all of it, Alex and Jaania and the Rose and-

Because that monster was a part of him, is inside of him still, and what if I-

Because-

“-I’m dangerous.”

Ah.

Oops.

The look that she gives him somehow manages to be drier than the Sandsea and utterly sympathetic at the same time. He has a feeling that he knows what she’s going to say next, can practically already hear it – So am I. We’re all dangerous, it comes with the territory.

He can see it in her face, begins preparing his counterargument.

“You’re not a threat, Warlic.”

Crystallised disbelief is, apparently, a noise and his vocal cords are capable of making it.

“You’re not.” She squeezes his hands. “You’re in control. You’re not Wargoth-” He flinches at the name, the one he’s only heard in his own thoughts for some time now “-and you’re in control. You are exactly as dangerous as you choose to be and not a whit more and I think I know you well enough to say that that amount is minimal.”

“You didn’t see,” he replies, quietly, staring past her head to trace the grain of the wooden beams in the wall behind her with his eyes “What it was like in the early days. What I was like when I was only just recovering.”

It’s a statement, not an accusation. They both know she would have been there, given the remotest choice. They both know she couldn’t be there. They both know why and who is to blame for it.

She flinches anyways.

It’s the Wargoth in him, Warlic thinks, that makes him be so cruel to a friend who is only trying to help.

Ro breaths in, holds it for a few seconds, then breathes out. She flexes her fingers where they rest across his clasped hands. The motion draws his focus back from the wall just in time to see something in her eyes go firm.

“Right,” she says, with the air of a decision made. “Palms up, in your lap.”

Before he can respond to that non-sequitur, she has swiftly, methodically, somehow still gently, pried his interlocking fingers apart and arranged his hands so that they are resting in his lap, one arm to a leg, palms up. He twitches his fingers a little, wincing at the stiffness in his knuckles after clasping them so tightly for so long.

“Now, close your eyes.”

“Ro, I-”

“Wheesht and dae it, Warlic.”

He closes his eyes.

There are several long moments filled with the sound of rummaging and rustling. She grumbles under her breath a couple of times – at one point, he hears a distinct “why do I even have that?” – and then makes a distinctly satisfied rumble that would be much more suited to her seal vocal cords than her human ones.

A beat after that, something heavy and so very soft is settled into his arms.

“’kay, you can open your eyes now.”

He doesn’t want to. His heart is pounding so wildly he half wonders if it’s visible from the outside. A part of him is desperately hoping that she’s just handed him a blanket, some sentimental symbol of comfort she hopes to share, maybe even something with childhood importance. Something, anything, like that.

The rest of him knows better.

Definitely not a blanket.

The noise he makes isn’t so much a vocalisation of her name as it is a plaintive cry made of vaguely similar sounds. His eyes snap to her in panic and-

-she’s smiling. He can tell not just by the way the outer corners of her eyes have tilted up but by the way he can just barely see her teeth because her mask is pooled around her neck and she’s smiling and she looks absolutely, utterly at ease and-

-and her sealskin is in his hands.

“I trust you,” she says, as thought that isn’t a completely redundant thing to say, as though she hasn’t just made herself impossibly vulnerable, hasn’t just- “I trust you, Warlic. Even if you can’t trust yourself right now, can you trust me? Trust my faith in you?”

The sealskin in his lap is thick and soft and warm. He’s bunched his hands in it, pulled his arms in a bit to hold it closer, without even realising he was doing so and he can’t quite convince himself to let go. He’s never seen it close enough to realise just how much the white-on-blue markings look like clouds before.

His heart pounds and his mind races. There are a million and one things that a mage of his strength and knowledge could do with a selkie’s coat and almost none of them are good. I trust you she says but how can she be anything but terrified in this moment, this moment where she has all but put herself into the worst horror stories of her people, how could she just hand this to him-

Wargoth enslaved people. He’d stolen them from themselves, reached in to grab the fire in their souls and twisted to chain them to his will, to turn them into puppets in his hands-

-and his friend has just unhesitatingly handed him the power to do it again. To do it to her.

“Warlic, hey, Warlic, look at me.”

Her hand is on his shoulder now and he turns to look, a million repetitions of the same question on his tongue – how can you…- and then she stands up.

She stands up and takes one step backwards.

A second.

A third.

She stops there, three paces away, smiling all the while.

“I trust you,” she repeats for the third time.

As his vision first blurs, then swims, Warlic finds himself thinking it’s a good thing that selkies live in the sea, it would be incredibly rude of me to give her coat water stains after a gesture like that. He takes one breath, then two, and then lets go.

Warlic bawls like a baby.

Ro returns to the couch, sitting close enough that their legs are pressed together, and starts rubbing circles on his back, between his shoulder blades.

It should feel ridiculous, with how much younger than him she is. He remembers when she had to look up just to look him in the face while he tried to convince her to take a nap, assuring her that the world wouldn’t end when she wasn’t looking if she took some time to rest. She’s grown a lot since then, he knows, but the number of years is such a drop in the ocean of those he’s lived that it feels like she must have barely aged at all. And yet, somehow, the rhythm of her comforting him as though he’s the child in the room doesn’t feel out of place at all. It just feels…

…safe.

Inevitably, he runs out of tears to cry. Ro wordlessly passes him a tissue to blow his nose, then another to wipe his eyes. He has no idea where she got them from, as there aren’t any nearby. He can’t remember the last time he cried like that. It feels… good, in a way, to have let it out.

When his breathing settles into a more sedate pace, Ro pats him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay to be scared, Warlic,” she says, voice quiet “You know that I know what it’s like to be scared of yourself. I get it. Just… don’t go letting your fear control you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out “Yeah, okay.”

She shuffles aside a bit, giving him some space, but makes no movement to take her coat back. Not even an aborted grasp towards it, though he can see a line of tension beginning to form in her shoulders that she is clearly fighting.

…oh.

Oh. Of course. Trust. The whole point is trust.

He gathers her coat up in his arms, allowing himself just a moment to appreciate all that just being allowed to touch it would represent, let alone having the entire thing dropped in his lap, and passes it over to her.

“Thanks,” she says as she takes it from him, as though this is in any way a casual exchange. She slings it up and over her shoulders, settling it against her neck where the fur will rest against the few uncovered parts of her skin.

He nods, not entirely trusting his voice.

They sit in silence for a few moments and then she tilts her head to the side.

“So,” she says, drawing the vowel out, deliberately light-hearted, testing the waters “Artix’s thing?”

He thinks it over for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Considers all of his reasons for saying no; considers the possibilities for saying yes. Thinks about keeping himself locked away where it’s safe; thinks about spending time with people again.

He takes a deep breath in, feels his lungs expand. He thinks about a time when, despite everything, he had trusted himself. Even if you can’t trust yourself right now, can you trust me? He breathes out.

He knows his answer.

“No,” he says, letting the syllable hang in the air for just a moment before turning to face Ro with a small smile “But tell him… maybe next time.”

[greenteabtch]

16 for the physical affection prompt?

hiii thank you so much for your ask!! ;_; Literally had SO much fun writing this.

Kissing Knuckles

pairing: sebastian vael x f!hawke

rating: g

word count: 1516

genre: fluff :)

-

“Do we all have to go in?”

“Yes,” Helena clipped.

A deep scoff sounded. “But we’re covered in blood. They’ll kick us out the minute we enter”

“Or they’ll just start screaming,” Aveline offered.

“Nothing new for you then, eh Junior?”

Carver sputtered, Helena sighing but choosing not to intervene as she climbed the steps to Kirkwall’s Chantry. Its spires reached towards eternity alongside the gilded statues of Andraste, like holy spokes against a gray fresco sky. Absently, she rubbed her fingers together, feeling dirt from the coast pill and disintegrate in the wind.

It took the entire weight of her body to pull open the doors, something she scowled at Varric for snickering at. Incense and cool air whispered through the opening, and very suddenly Helena found herself stepping back.

Hand fingering her combat vest, the mage looked towards her companions. ���Go first. I’ll follow.”

Their puzzled expressions were obvious, but it only took a moment for them to shrug and continue on their way. Helena watched them start to disappear into the dark interior, breaking her vision away to dust off as much of the evidence of a fight as she could. The dirt was alright enough, but the bloodstains were another story. Regardless, once Carver’s black hair had been swallowed by the dark, it was her turn to enter.

Helena straightened her posture, taking a breath as she began her walk into the Chantry. Her chin lifted against ensuing whispers from the sisters that watched her entrance, nervous chills dropping down her spine. Whatever their opinions, she knew that her mission lied not with the red robed clergy today, but instead, a prince in white.

“Hawke!” 

She had been found.

“Sebastian,” she acknowledged, nodding awkwardly in her approach. 

As handsome as the last time she saw him, Sebastian Vael walked toward her through the scattered groups of faithful. He met her halfway, offering his hand with a charming smile. 

Hesitation gripped her as she stared at his soft unmarred skin. Beautiful uninterrupted swaths of sepia shone like velvet in the red candlelight, his fingers well kept despite the few callouses she could identify. By the time she blinked she realized it would be more than rude to decline, so she submitted, taking his hand in hers for a shake…

Which never quite occurred, given that in one deft movement he had coaxed her fingers to lie neat inside his grip while he brought his lips to the surface of her hand.

A flush tore through her. Helena’s vision was glued to the sight, the heir to the throne of Starkhaven kissing her knuckles. Knuckles that were blistered with the efforts of her twirling her staff, nicked from stray slashes of mercenaries who pressed too close. Her surroundings spotted black.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said, releasing her hand, which she tucked to her chest. “I’m hoping that your arrival brings good news.”

“Y…” she mumbled, eyes frozen before she shook her head. “Yes. Right. The, uh, mercenaries—“

Sebastian’s eyebrows raised expectantly. “The Fl—“

“—Int company! The,” she cleared her throat. “Flint company. As you requested, we have eradicated their presence from Kirkwall.” Helena fumbled for her belt loop, finding the prepared bag of collected badges and offering it to Sebastian. “Your proof. Sixty five badges for sixty five mercenaries.”

He wasted no time opening the canvas pouch, fingers combing through the clacking metal.

“You did all of this…” he met her gaze, snapping her out of the dream like haze she had dipped into while her fingers caressed her still-warm hand. “Thank you. I can’t emphasize enough what this means for my family.” The starting lines of frustration were fading into his skin, eyes falling. “Lives for lives, and yet, these people will never know what they stole. All I can pray is that my family wasn’t made to suffer.” His voice wavered. “Still that doesn’t seem like enough.”

Helena’s brows furrowed, heartstrings pulling at the sight of the man before her. “It’s a beginning.” she eventually offered. “That’s more than many people get.”

He looked up, eyes glossy. “I suppose.” A small tilt pulled his smile. “Well, in any case. Your aid has eased my spirit, and hopefully my family’s. As promised.” He produced a coin purse, which Helena accepted.

The second she felt its weight her brows shot up.

“This is more than the listed reward.” 

A hissed ‘just take the money’ came from behind her, to which she sent a bone-chilling glare over her shoulder.

Low chuckles drew her back, Sebastian’s picture perfect smile warming her skin like the sun. “Please. The Vael’s coiffeurs run deeper than I’ll ever have a use for. Besides, it reassures my troubled heart to know someone is making good use of it.”

Her eyes were wider than saucer plates. “Thank you. Really.” She swallowed, heart-thumping while she pocketed the gold. “You’re… going back to Starkhaven now?”

“For a time, at least. I have some affairs to sort out with the remaining councilmembers,” his speech slowed, a pause blanketing between them. “I do plan to return to Kirkwall after, though.”

Helena’s skin felt electric, her fingers curling around her lower face. “Oh. Well. If you… ever find yourself in need of services again…” she tried not to pinch her eyes closed at the snicker behind her. “Or, if you want to come along with us— you seem very handy—“ Wait. “With your bow.” Sigh.

She was ready to give up and break into a full sprint out of the chantry, her brother’s ‘what is happening right now’ and subsequent chuckles from Aveline detrimental to her situation. The archer, though, was forgiving, a smile crawling over his face as his brows raised.

“Thank you for the offer. I… it would be nice to have friends to return to once business has been settled. I have to admit, it’s been difficult to find comfort amongst the Chantry as of late.”

“No, please. We’d be lucky to work with you again.”

“Perhaps as partners next time?”

Rose covered her skin as she looked away, then back, letting a smile slip.

“It would be a fortunate match.”

Again, a light chuckle left him.

“I’ll send a letter when I return then, ah— Maker forgive me, I haven’t even asked your full name.”

“Oh, no it’s… it’s fine. Helena. Hawke.”

“Helena.” He smiled when he said it.

She thought she might melt in his stare, yet another blush creeping up her neck as she fiddled with her hair. To break the silence she attempted to ask about his skills, but was interrupted by her brother walking up and planting his feet beside her, arms crossed.

“Well, thanks for the job. Good luck in Starkhaven!” He waved to Sebastian, before whispering as an aside “let’s go sister.”

She all but shoved him away, casting a tight-lipped smile towards Sebastian.

“I’ll see you.”

And just like he did before, Sebastian took her hand in his and swept it to his lips for a kiss. Ears burned as she marveled at the sight again, her lips creeping up at the tingles that ran through her body.

When he parted from his kiss, he laid another hand over hers, clasping her palm in a firm embrace.

“Walk in the Maker’s light, Helena. I pray fate allows our paths to cross again.”

“... Thank you… and good luck.”

“To us both.”

It was disappointing to leave the Chantry after that, but there was hardly anything she could do to prolong her stay. Besides, she had made enough of a fool of herself for a lifetime. Carver made that clear after they crossed the threshold.

“So that was…”

“We don’t need to talk about it.”

Carver raised his brows beside her, “No, that was weird. I have never seen you smile like that before.” 

“I wasn’t smiling!” 

“Okay, now I’ve never heard you defend yourself like a thirteen year old boy.”

Helena let out an exasperated noise, increasing her speed to stride ahead of the group.

“And… now you’re running away.”

“Oh, let her go Carver. She’s clearly smitten by prince charming.”

“Who kisses hands these days? This kid’s got to update his literature.”

“Not everyone wants to have their bedroom broken into for a meet-cute, Dwarf.”

“So you HAVE read my books!”

The rest of their conversation tickled Helena’s ears as she walked, but their voices soon flowed into the musical hubub of Hightown, leaving her with her thoughts. In hazes of red and pink, her mind replayed the scene at the chantry. Clutching her hand close, she couldn’t help but blush. 

Would she see him again? Would the prince remember the refugee mercenary who aided him through a difficult time? Would he kiss her hand just the same? And would they be different…

She didn’t know. She couldn’t. 

But maybe… this moment would be enough until she did.

Till then, she held her hand close and decided to keep an ear out for her charming prince from Starkhaven, with the hopes that someday their paths might have the good fortune of crossing again.

[fanfoolishness]

in the long night (Hawke x Varric)

Written for @oneshallop and also up on AO3.  They requested Hawke and Varric on the Deep Roads expedition with some early hints of pining.  I hope it fits the bill!  2836 words, Hawke, Varric, Act 1 of DA2.

***

It was dark.

Varric almost roared with laughter at the thought.  Of course it was dark.  It was the Deep fucking Roads, wasn’t it?  

Sure, maybe in old dwarven tales these tunnels were supposed to be awash with red-gold, welcoming light, but every kid in Hightown’s dwarven quarter knew the Deep Roads had been overrun centuries ago.  There were still some intact corridors here and there where you could see the magma channels lighting the way as they’d been intended… but there were far more lonely and dangerous areas, where the magma had long ago been freed in cave-ins and cooled into just another kind of rock. Those corridors sat empty in the long-forgotten dark.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t pitch black, at least not where they’d set up camp for the night.  They had the torches and the campfire made of magelight to thank for that.  The orange-yellow of torchlight, the blue-white of mage-fire, they cast deep and disturbing shadows in the dark.  It disquieted him.  He almost wondered if it wouldn’t be better to let the lights go out, except that was complete crazy talk.

He hunkered down, trying to find a comfortable way to sit.  He could sit on this broken lump of rock, but then there was no back support.  Sit on the ground and that would take care of his back, but then his ass would start aching.  He decided on the floor, groaning under his breath.  

This lead of Bartrand’s better pan out , he thought sourly.  He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Bartrand and his crew had taken over most of the lower level.  Their torches lit the place up a little more, but the murmuring echoes of the mercs he’d hired were weird and distorted in the high open ceilings.  He tried to ignore the sound and the way it made his spine tingle.

A rustle at his side.  He nearly reached a hand toward Bianca, but this sound was familiar, somehow.  Safe.  He followed it to the source and saw the elder Hawke slipping out of her tent to tend to the fire, her hair mussed, her robes rumpled.  

“Trouble sleeping?” Varric asked.

A startled look crossed her face, followed by a shrug once she realized it was only him.  Shadows pooled along her cheekbones, dark semicircles cupping her keen eyes.  “I could ask the same of you.  Isn’t your bigshot brother paying for extra guards?  No need to keep watch, I thought.”

Varric chuckled, letting discomfiting thoughts about the long tunneling dark fade away.  This was a good distraction.  “You really think Bartrand managed to convince quality muscle to come along with us?  Oh, Hawke, he talks a big game, but I wouldn’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”

Her eyebrows leapt up somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline.  “You do realize this doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the expedition.  Or in the Tethras name.”

Varric waved her protestation away.  “Bartrand not having an ounce of charm in his body is his problem.  I, fortunately, do not suffer from the same issue.  Ergo, I was able to find some decent people for this thing.  Such as yourself, partner.”

She let out one of those sharp-edged laughs he was beginning to know well.  “You do have quite the silver tongue, dwarf, I’ll give you that.”  She bent over the fire, concentrating.  It flared up before her, dancing bright blue-white against the shadows.

“Thanks,” said Varric.  

“I can’t stand it being so dark down here in the lower levels,” she said, leaning against a chunk of paving stone that had been torn from the main floor.  “It’s unnatural.”  Then she glanced at him.  “Er, I mean, for humans,” she said clumsily.

Varric held up his hands.  “Believe you me, Hawke, I’ll moan and complain about the Deep Roads as much as any human.  Dwarves get some things right, sure -- they know what they’re doing when it comes to smithing and bullshitting -- but living underground forever, it’ll never play right for me.”

“You were born on the surface, then?” Hawke asked curiously.  

“Born and raised,” said Varric.  “Family had a nasty fall from grace in Orzammar when Bartrand was a little kid.  They were forced to run from their fuckups down here up to the surface.  My dad died not long after I was born, and my mother never recovered from the move.  Not sure if Bartrand ever did, either.”  He gazed into the fire.  Silver-white sparks leapt from its flames.

“Oh,” said Hawke, first looking taken aback, then her face softening.  “I’m sorry -- I didn’t realize.”  She could be startlingly empathetic when she wanted to be, he’d noticed.

She sighed, shaking her head.  “Family.  Dreadfully inconvenient, aren’t they?”  Then again, she was just as likely to laugh the big stuff away, just another joke.  He liked that about her.  Liked it in himself, too.

He chuckled.  “You realize Carver is literally five feet away, right?”

She glanced over at her sleeping brother.  He’d said he felt claustrophobic, setting up a tent in a closed tunnel, and had instead opted to sleep out in the open.  She watched his chest rise and fall for a few beats.

“Carver’s different,” she said, “despite the way we fight.  It’s our fighting, right?  That’s the important bit.”  She flashed Varric a too-tight grin.

Varric thought of Bartrand, all family name and getting ahead, all Brother, you have to take this seriously or they’ll eat you alive.   He thought of just how often he’d been an absolute shit of a little brother, and how much Bartrand had really deserved it (completely, most of the time).

“There’s something to that, I suppose,” he said cautiously.  “But Bartrand really is an ass.”

“So’s Carver,” Hawke laughed in that bright, airy way of hers.  For a moment, though, her face slipped into genuine fondness. “That’s part of his charm.”

Varric snorted.  “That’s one word for it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Hawke in mock-offended tones.  “As the eldest sibling, I’m the only one permitted to say such dreadful things about my own brother.  Which I have before, and which I’ll do again, thank you very much.”

Varric shifted positions, sitting up on top of his chunk of rock, seeing if that would help his aching back.  Eh.  Not much difference.  

A thought struck him, one he knew he shouldn’t say.  You never talk about the other twin that way.   But that was something private, wasn’t it, something he’d only gleaned from weeks of dropped references in casual conversation with the Hawke siblings.  At first he’d wondered if Bethany was a cousin back in Fereldan; a distant relative long-forgotten.  It’d taken an overheard conversation between Hawke and her mother for Varric to figure it out, and an aside with Aveline, plied with more than a little ale, to confirm it..  

He stuffed the information back down, watching the firelight flicker in her eyes.  If she wanted to tell him about Bethany, she’d do it, and it didn’t gain him any advantage anyway, knowing the blow she and Carver had suffered.  He held his tongue.

“You’ve gone quiet,” she observed.  “You never did say what you were doing out here.  Something nefarious, I’m certain.”

“Oh, you know me,” said Varric loftily.  “I’m just here for the scenery.”

Hawke giggled, loudly enough that Carter grumbled and rolled over before lapsing into a loud snore.  She stifled her laugh, just barely.

“Ah, yes.  Creepy empty caverns, moldering ruins, the endless dark.  You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

He shivered.  Or was he blushing?  He wasn’t sure.  Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“Where better than the ass end of Thedas for a little romance?” he asked, in a voice that felt a good deal less smooth than he’d meant it.

Hawke wiped a tear away.  “This is why I like traveling with you.  You’re right.  If Bartrand had been doing the talking, Carver and I would never have thrown in our lot with you.”  She let out a long breath.  “Ah, thanks for that.  I’ve been feeling rather uneasy down here, to be honest.  A good laugh’s a bit of a relief.”

“Varric Tethras, at your service,” he said cheerfully.  Funny, though, that little bit of disappointment threading through his words.  Why was he thinking of Bianca now?  He shook his head.  “Well, Hawke, you’re not the only one with the creeps down here.  I thought maybe keeping an eye on camp would make things feel more normal, but turns out the place is damn spooky no matter where you sit.”

She nodded.  “I could see my fire fading through the gap in the front of my tent.  Didn’t feel right to let it go out.  So I’m keeping an eye on it, for now at least.”

“Seems like you’re getting better at them to me,” said Varric.  He didn’t know much about magic, but he’d long noticed that Anders was the one running around throwing fireballs while Hawke was much more likely to somehow conjure up a miniature earthquake.  

“That’s sweet of you to say,” said Hawke. “Anders is much better at elemental magic than I am, but since he’s still up surface-side, I figured now was a good time to practice.  It wasn’t my father’s strength, either, as far as I know.  Or maybe he thought it’d be harder to hide fireball lessons out back of our farm.”  She shrugged.  “But I’m learning things, much as I can with the Chantry breathing down my neck.”

“Maybe it’s for the best Anders isn’t here.  I gather he’s spent way more time in the Deep Roads than any sane person would ever want to,” said Varric.  He could just hear Blondie’s complaints starting up in the back of his mind.

“It’s one reason why I didn’t ask him to come with us,” said Hawke cheerily.  “Felt sorry for the poor fellow.  I’m sure he’s enjoying the sunshine from Darktown.  ...come to think of it, it’s not that far off from being down here, is it?”

Varric laughed.  “Good point.  Though sometimes I swear you can see the sun through holes in the walls there… and it smells better here.”

“Do you miss it?  Not Darktown, obviously.  Kirkwall,” said Hawke.  “It’s been… what, a good three weeks now?  It’s the longest I’ve seen you away from the city.”

Varric considered.  He’d gone on long journeys before, been away from Kirkwall for weeks, even occasionally, months at a time on Guild business, especially after their mother died.  Bianca flitted through his thoughts again, Bianca and intrigue and furtive meetings in shitty towns.  But none of that felt right to bring up here, not to Hawke with the fire’s reflection in her darkened eyes.  

“I miss the Hanged Man,” he said honestly.  “Every time I try to lay down for bed here, I just think back to my bed back in the inn, and think ‘Tethras!  You’ve gone insane.’”  

“Ugh, you and me both,” said Hawke.  “I think I’ve got bruises on bruises from all these rocks.  Hopefully we’re not down here too much longer.”

“We can always dream,” said Varric, but the words felt hollow in the dark, and he drew his coat closer around himself.

Hawke nodded, but she seemed pensive.  “I suppose,” she said.  She shifted, sinking deeper into her robes.  “Hmph.  Well, as long as we aren’t sleeping, care to join me in a snack?”

“Depends,” he said cautiously.  He’d had her cooking before.  Carver’s was far and away the better meal.  

“I’ve been saving these.  For a special occasion, as it were.”  She rummaged in the pack beside her.  “I figured the special occasion would be for when I absolutely couldn’t tolerate another bite of Lowtown hardtack, but what d’you know, sharing it with a friend sounds all right, too.”

“You actually have something good in there?” Varric asked in surprise.  The perishable stuff had all gone a few days ago, and he’d started his grumbling about the salted pork that morning, right on cue.  

Hawke pulled free a waxed paper bundle, tightly wrapped.  “I may have tried a spell of stasis on these,” she said.  “I’m still working on the technique, but I think I’ve got it down for little things like this.”  She unwrapped the bundle and a tiny flash of light dissipated from the contents, the spell breaking at its maker’s touch.

“Chocolate almond biscuits, from Camille’s in Hightown,” she whispered, looking downright conspiratorial.  “It was the end of the night, that last night in Kirkwall.  The bakery was just about to close, but I saw them packing these up off the cart outside.  The baker’s girl told me they were getting a bit stale, but did I want to buy them anyway, half price?  Carver ate his straight away -- didn’t see the point in them getting staler -- but I wanted to save them.  Don’t know why.”  

Two biscuits sat in their waxed wrapping, delicate golden squares worked with scrolled lustrous chocolate, stamped with the Kirkwall crest.  He’d passed them up a hundred times, sweet sugary nonsense meant for nobles with more money than sense.  Bartrand would have scoffed.  But they smelled amazing.

“Aw, come on, Hawke,” tried Varric.  “They’re yours.  You should have them.”

“A good biscuit’s better shared, or at least it’s what my father used to say.  Probably so as to keep his children from fighting amongst themselves for the last one, but it’s a nice sentiment regardless,” said Hawke.  She shoved the biscuits at him.  “Go on, then.”

“All right, all right.  If you insist.  Only because you’re a powerful mage and I don’t want to get on your bad side.”  He reached out and took the top biscuit. It was a solid thing, sturdy in the hand.  The chocolate beneath his thumb tip began to melt, soft and silky against his skin.

“Cheers, Varric.”  Hawke took up the other biscuit and nudged it against his, then took a bite.  “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes.  “Just as I’d hoped it would be.”

Varric bit into his biscuit.  It snapped satisfyingly against his teeth.  He tasted buttery almonds first, then a deep, complex sweetness tempered by smooth bitter chocolate.  He paused, savoring it.  “Damn.  No wonder they charge an arm and a leg for these.”

“Worth every copper,” Hawke agreed, a silly grin spreading over her face as she finished her biscuit.  Varric finished his a moment later, regretfully licking the last of the chocolate from his fingertips.

“Thanks, Hawke.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling.  

The fire rolled and flared, almost a living thing, fighting against the shadows.  He half thought he could see a pattern to it, a heartbeat, a touch of Hawke herself within the flames.

Silence grew between them, a comfortable, familiar thing like the weight of a good blanket.  Or the taste of secret chocolate in the dark.  It felt good, until it was broken by a yawn Hawke tried to hide.  

“You should get some rest,” Varric said softly.  “The fire’s a good one, Hawke.  You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm, but I worry all the time,” she chuckled, yawning again.  “But don’t tell anyone.  It’s a secret.”

He felt a pang, though he wasn’t sure why.  “Dwarf’s honor,” said Varric.  “Assuming you put stock in such things.”

“In yours?  Of course I do,” she said.  She gave him a tired smile.  “All right, then.  I’ll get some sleep if you promise to do the same.  It wouldn’t do for us to be too tired to carry back our fabulous treasure.”

“Imagine if we’d have to leave it behind due to exhaustion.  It’d be a crying shame.  We’d never live it down,” said Varric.  “All right, you’ve convinced me.”  

He got to his feet, his back and ass aching as predicted.  He reached out a hand to Hawke and she gripped it, hard, her calloused hand small but steely against his own as he helped her up.  “Thanks, Varric.”

“No problem.  See you in the morning, Hawke,” he said.

“If you can call it that,” she said.  “But I’ll see you then.”  She slipped back into her tent, and Varric returned to his.

He stretched out on his bedroll, staring up at the ceiling.  The blue magelight -- Hawke’s light -- seeped in through the cracks of his tent flaps.  He watched its delicate choreography through drowsy eyes.

They had this.  He knew it now in his bones.  Bartrand had his team and his map, and that was all well and good, but Varric had Hawke and her people, and he’d put the money on them every time.  No matter what they found on this crazy expedition, they’d be ready.

He smiled tiredly.  Yeah.  He had Hawke.

The tent was still and quiet.  His eyes fell shut; his breathing slowed.  He drifted off to sleep in the long night of the Deep Roads, still tasting chocolate.

[inkribbon796]

Not So Baby Brother

Summary: Tubbo is trying desperately to bury his past, if only everyone around him wasn’t interested in digging back up in front of him.

A/N: Warning for hinted child abuse and endangerment. Both to Tubbo, Puffy, Schlatt, and to Michael. I try to keep the majority of it off screen or undetailed but it’s still there. These events coupled with his time with the SMP makes Tubbo in this AU who he is in the present. Which is emotionally withdrawn and prone to pushing people away.

Tubbo in the first flashback was about four, while Schlatt and Puffy were about 10.

~::~ 13 Years Ago ~::~

Tubbo was in his bed, hiding under the covers, hands over his ears as he heard the arguing and smashing of things across the house. The little four year old was so scared and he didn’t know what to do.

Then his door opened and Tubbo hiccuped in fear. He tried to stay quiet and still, hoping that if he did the person would just leave him alone.

A hand came down where his shoulder was.

Tubbo flinched.

“Tubster? You awake?”

The little boy let out a breath of relief, it was his big brother. Still scared, Tubbo peeked his head out from underneath the covers to see both his siblings there: Schlatt and Puffy.

Schlatt looked bad but he still smiled at Tubbo. “Hey don’t cry, c’mere[1].”

Tubbo was already crawling his way over to Schlatt and crying, and he couldn’t stop.

“C’mon,[2] you know what he’s gonna[3] do if he catches you crying,” Schlatt tried to calm him down.

Puffy came to sit next to them, her own eyes wet. Schlatt slightly rocked Tubbo to try and comfort him.

“Hey, T-Man,” Schlatt tried to soothe him. “Kinda[4] loud isn’t it?”

“We’ve got you,” Schlatt held Tubbo tightly, the younger brother still shaking and sobbing. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Tubbo nodded his head, clutching onto his brother. A little embrace of safety for a young boy whose life was so turbulent and scary. Tonight nothing would hurt, and that was what mattered to the young boy.

~::~ Present Day ~::~

“I was just thinking about it Tubbo . . . we like to have fun.”

“Schlatt, I can’t get out.”

“I know what you’ve been up to.”

“Uh, what have I been up to?”

“Everyone knows what you’ve been up to!”

“Do you know what we do to traitors, Tubbo?”

“. . . No?”

“Techno, you wanna come up here for a second?”

“Let’s just send a message, real quick.”

“Techno, if you would be so kind.”

“Murder him right now, on this fucking stage, and make it hurt!”

“Tubbo, I’m sorry, I’ll make it quick.”

“Techno, what the hell!”

“Wilbur!”

Tubbo shot up in bed, his eyes wild and heart racing. He was disoriented at first, expecting himself to be in some hole somewhere, still in pain after pulling himself together from a discorporation and desperate to escape before Schlatt found him again.

Tubbo surged out of bed, trying to get away.

Then he heard ruffling behind him and disgruntled child sobs.

And Tubbo came back to himself, he looked back to see Michael crying and Ranboo sitting up in his own bed. Tubbo mentally chastised himself.

“Mikey? Daddy’s sorry, did I wake you up?” Tubbo walked back to his bed, his pace quickening when Michael reached up and made grabby hands towards Tubbo.

Ranboo was already getting out of his bed and walking over to them. He looked like he was going to collapse in a heap of limbs on the floor. “Hmmm,” Ranboo hummed.

The two-toned teen stopped right outside the bed and gestured with his tail, “Can I join?”

Tubbo scooted over a bit, and Ranboo sat down as Tubbo tried to rock and soothe their adopted son. Ranboo making little cooing and odd vwoop noises, while Tubbo was humming some lullaby, that helped Michael fall back asleep with the familiarity.

A little family the two teens had carved for themselves.

Tubbo and Ranboo had found the small boy thrown away by some demon hunter as a “disappointing failure” and after Tubbo left Ranboo to tend to the scared and crying boy, Tubbo went to “fetch the adoption papers” and the mage was never seen again. Ranboo didn’t question what Tubbo had done but they took the boy, bundled him up in Tubbo’s jacket and got the boy some food before taking him into the Bee ‘n Boo before spending the next couple hours finishing the attic store room and Ranboo used their downstairs storage for all the establishment’s storage.

That day Ranboo busied himself around their bed and breakfast as Tubbo kept the boy entertained and fed. Michael immediately bonded with Tubbo, and Ranboo found himself falling in love with the boy as well.

The attic was immediately barred from all entry that wasn’t either of the owners. Tubbo made the announcement and was very firm. Beforehand it was frequently used as a temporary living space for Ranboo and Tubbo and they just didn’t want anyone in their personal space anymore.

Which was true but now Michael was there and Tubbo desperately didn’t want people like Quackity and Techno to find out about Michael quite yet. The boy had been through enough and . . . Tubbo wanted a little slice of peace.

He didn’t think that was too much to ask.

Right?

And it certainly didn’t help that bonds and possessions were treated like weaknesses to be exploited and used as currency. Sapnap and Dream had long since set a precedent for that.

So as Tubbo sat in the dark attic bedroom, holding his son in his arms, he pushed down his fear and focused on Michael, who needed him right now.

Soon the little boy was back asleep, tucked back into bed, and Tubbo threw up his arms. He got up because, after his nightmare, there was no way he was getting back to sleep.

So Tubbo changed into his suit and made sure he wasn’t wearing his horns before he left to go down to the staff lounge for a coffee.

“Tubs,” Ranboo called out, shifting in his suit and looking human. “You okay?”

“Yeah, go back ta[5] bed, bossman,” Tubbo dismissed.

“You sure, you’ve got a big day, and we got a lot to do here,” Ranboo looked uneasy.

Tubbo didn’t trust his voice at first, but when he did he told him, “Go back ta[5] bed. I’m grabbing a coffee.”

“Oh, okay,” Ranboo looked away and slowly went back into the room. Tubbo knew he wasn’t going to go back to sleep. But at least it gave Tubbo time to clear his head.

After three coffees, four hours of paperwork, and bullshiting around with Tommy for a bit; Tubbo was overjoyed to put on his Bomble Bee costume and start running around town with Tommy like a maniac.

It was freeing, the suit went on and he wasn’t Tubbo anymore. He was free.

Logic and Jackie were less than enthused to find them by themselves, and Tubbo didn’t appreciate the babysitter, but at least Logan didn’t talk down to Tubbo during it.

They went on a patrol around Brighton, and they were halfway through when Logan brought something up, “You have a sister?”

Tubbo flipped up his visor to glare at Logan, “Thought we agreed family wasn’t shit?”

“There was no agreement on that matter, that was merely a comment you made,” Logic sighed. “If you feel unsafe around your blood related family that is one thing, but demon magic or not you are still underage and the Coalition is bound to follow the law as far as it is actually protecting people.”

“I legally emancipated,” Tubbo countered, flicking his visor back down. “Tommy’s an idiot who doesn’t know how ta[5] do shit. I don’t need anyone ta[5] sign anything fer[6] me.”

“Do you have copies of those legal documents?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, at the BnB,” Tubbo told him. “You wanna pop on over?”[7]

“There’s no rush at the moment, you can email me those tonight when you get home,” Logan offered Tubbo an out. “However, I would like to know the nature of your relationship with your family. You don’t need to go into detail, I trust you had your reasons for emancipation if that was the route you chose to follow.”

“Don’t talk with my parents, if you can call ‘em[8] that, and I haven’t fer[6] years, I only really talk ta[5] my older sister?” Tubbo told him. “She lives in Gainesville with her girlfriend.”

“Are you on good terms with her?” Logan asked. “I wouldn’t want you in communication with someone who is hostile emotionally or physically to you or your family.”

“Nah, she’s alright, she’s part ‘a[9] the Server though, you wanna[10] meet her?” Tubbo smiled.

Logan thought on that, “We might want to send some kind of warning if we go over. Last I checked, several of them had sent me death threats. Does your sister know you’re working with us?”

“Oh yeah,” Tubbo lifted himself up with his bumble bee wings, looking quite proud of himself. “I got several pissed off texts from some ‘a[9] the guys after they saw me an’[11] Big Man on the news. It was great, Quackity screamed at me fer[6] at least five minutes.”

“Are you certain you will be safe when you visit your sister?” Logan asked again.

“Oh yeah,” Tubbo promised. “Come on.”

The logical Side continued to ask questions, letting Tubbo use his phone to send a supervised text to his sister: Puffy. Then they started making their way over.

When they got to the condo Puffy lived at, Tubbo didn’t even knock. In fact he practically kicked the door open.

“Puffy!” Tubbo cupped his hands over his ears and called into the townhouse, calling out at the top of his lungs. “You fuckin’[12] Niki in here?”

“Fuck you, Tubbo! You little gremlin piece ‘a[9] shit!” Someone shouted from upstairs.

Tubbo chuckled and announced loudly, “I bought company.”

“Hide the good kush[13]!” Someone else yelled and Tubbo laughed even more.

“Hey Hannah,” Tubbo greeted as he walked in and motioned for Logan to follow him. “Alyssa in?”

“Don’t care,” Hannah was on her phone, sitting in an armchair. “She’s probably off with Callahan.”

“Yeah, prolly[14],” Tubbo replied. He started walking towards the kitchen, he quietly motioned for Logan to follow him.

Tubbo immediately went for the fridge, leaving Logan to just look around the little space. It was obviously lived in, and on the far wall were some pictures of several women with various people Logan recognized as being from the Server. But there was one almost hidden, almost completely tucked behind a bowl full of different colored rocks. It was a small framed picture in the corner of the kitchen, almost hidden from view, of a much younger Tubbo surrounded by some people that Logan didn’t recognize.

Logan didn’t have long to inspect the photos and start making inferences that he would most likely never ask, because someone stomped into the kitchen.

She had fluffy hair that was a chestnut brown on one side, and white on the other. Flecks of rainbow hairs interspersed on both halves. She was one of the people in the picture, Logan quickly realized. She resembled Tubbo a little bit, and on prolonged examination, Logan noticed that her fluffy hair was hiding a set of thick, curled ram horns. The kind that looked capable of crushing someone’s skull if they made an impact.

Logan figured that Tubbo’s would probably look like that in a couple years, just a bit more like a goat’s.

Tubbo glanced at her before asking, “Where are those rad fuckin’ ice lollies yeh bought?”[15]

“You took them last week for Michael,” Puffy snapped.

“Ohhh, yeah, he loved those,” Tubbo smiled, closing the freezer. He gave her a smug look. “So you didn’t buy more then?”

“No,” she gave him the stink eye. Then she glanced at Logan. “Who’s your friend?”

“Pardon me,” Logan spoke up. “My name is Logic, from the Coalition, I believe I texted you a little bit ago.”

“Yeah, I did get something,” Puffy agreed hesitantly. “Who’s this?”

“My mentor,” Tubbo pointed at Logic as he closed the fridge

“Huhhh,” Puffy hummed. “Hey, Tubbo, why don’t you go into the next room and watch some Adventure Time?”

“Don’t kill him,” Tubbo told her pointedly.

“And take that fight from Bad and Big Q, are you insane?” Puffy told him. “Oh, wait, you build bombs, of course you are.”

Tubbo held up two fingers, his middle and index, and flipped her off before walking off.

“You asshole!” Puffy told him and Tubbo was already cackling in laughter. When he’d completely turned his back, Puffy rolled her eyes and smiled. “Ehhh, he’s a good kid.

“He is,” Logan agreed, “Tubbo is intelligent and resourceful. Even if he is threatening to set off explosives under the guise of experimentation.”

“Yep, that’s Tubs alright,” Puffy chuckled. “He always liked figuring out how stuff worked, even as a little kid. He’s like a baby mad scientist.”

“Excuse you, I am a full blown mad scientist, I e’en[16] have the arrest record ta[5] prove it!” Tubbo boasted from the other room.

“From what Tubbo has told me, you seem to approve of him working with us,” Logan commented.

“Hell yeah,” Puffy told him, leaning against the counter as she watched him. “Between Ranboo, the Bee ‘n Boo, and working with you guys; Tubbo’s happier than I’ve seen him in a while.”

“That is good,” Logan agreed. “Tubbo’s mental and physical well-being is of primary importance.”

“You talk like a textbook, you sure you’re not a robot?” Puffy asked.

“I do not classify as an inorganic being,” Logan answered.

“Sure you don’t,” Puffy smiled. “So what brings you to the neighborhood? I’m guessing you didn’t come over just to stand in our kitchen and look like Apple’s version of Robocop?”

“No, that’s not the reason I came to visit,” Logan agreed. “The Coalition prefers, if possible, to have a good working relationship with the families of our apprentices. So that in the case of emergencies they can be notified. While I am glad you and Tubbo seem to have a positive relationship, the more important question is are there any safety risks that any other members of your family would pose to Tubbo or his family?”

Puffy looked uneasy, “What has he told you?”

“Not much,” the logical Side admitted. “I haven’t known him for long enough, but when I asked him about his extraneous family, Tubbo mentioned he was emancipated, and that he was not in communication with his parents. He only mentioned you, and I have seen his son once.”

“We had an older brother,” Puffy frowned, looking over at the half-hidden picture. “Started turning into a demon around the same time as Tubbo and I, and he was . . .”

She looked down, “Well he was the type of demon you keep your kids away from, and I wasn’t there to keep my eyes on them.”

“That must have been a difficult experience for everyone,” Logan tried to offer his sympathies.

Puffy looked in the direction of the hidden picture, “I should have been there, it would have never happened if Phil and I had been there to stop them. But the real problem is Dream has something that can apparently restore a demon. I don’t know how thorough it is, or if it’s just something he tells Tommy and the others to make them afraid of what he can do. But he apparently needs some of the original demon’s essence or aura and both Schlatt and Will left those behind. Wilbur left Ghostbur behind, and Quackity cremated everything but Schlatt’s heart and five of his bones. Meaning if Dream gets his hands on even one of those bones then he could, if he does have that power, bring Schlatt back any time he wanted. And I’d ask you to get those bones from Quackity and Dream but that means going into the Server and there’s no way Dream would allow you in. Just, if Wilbur and Schlatt come back, promise me you’ll keep those three safe?”

“With my life,” Logan promised. “The death and manipulation of children are unacceptable.”

Puffy smiled, a breathy little snort coming from her, “You know, I always heard that legates were buttfuck insane. Glad to know you’re not.”

“I am not in the Coalition for fame and vainglory. Others might be, but I strive to make the world a better place, and such can only happen through the acquisition of knowledge and reason over fear. Of fact over fiction. Tubbo is, despite his demon aura and insistence to the contrary, still a child. And regardless of all of that he is a person who deserves to be in a safe and loving environment.”

“Yeah the Server’s never been that kind to minors,” Puffy scoffed. “It’s kinda[4] like taking a box of kittens and turning them into robotic war machines. Tubbo and Purpled just took to it better than the others.”

“How many minors are in the Server still?” Logan was concerned. The trio the heroes were dealing with already had their pasts marred by trauma and death, he’d never considered there were others still trapped in the same unsafe environment.

“You have three,” Puffy began counting. “Quackity still has Purpled and Fundy in Las Nevadas so they’re doing slightly better than they were before when they were working directly under Dream. You guys also got Jack, who just turned nineteen. But I would not trust Jack alone with Tommy, he threatened to kill him several times.”

“Thank you for the information,” Logan told her. “Anything else you can tell me about the other two minors?”

“So, Purpled is from a league of assassins and he loves money too much to defect,” Puffy dismissed. “You’d need to start paying him the big bucks to make him switch sides and Quackity already gave a good price. While Dream is paying his older brother through the nose to keep him out of Quackity’s hands as well. Punz is older than me though, so if Purpled went anywhere else it would be back with him. But Fundy is a different story. He’s Wilbur’s spawnling and Fundy is kinda[4] a basket case already. If you can get him away from Quackity, good, but I don’t imagine he’d go all that easily and Big Q’s only gonna[3] clamp down harder on him. Fundy and Tubbo were kinda[4] the server mascots back in the day since they were the babies of the group.”

“Everyone loved Tubbo,” Puffy smiled fondly before frowning sadly. “But that’s not the case anymore. He’s made himself a lot of enemies.”

“I see, thank you, I will relay the message to the others and we’ll do what we can for them,” Logan promised.

Puffy came off of the counter. “Thanks, no one in the Server really thought twice about those kids, they kinda[4] just tossed ‘em[8] around and personally I’m really glad you got the ones you do out of there. All three of ‘em[8] have been through enough.”

Then she went to poke her head out of the kitchen. “Tubbo, take yer friend and get out of my house, I don’t want you in here while we’re out.”

“Sure,” Tubbo kicked his feet up and already started for the front door. “Whate’er, go back ta snoggin’ yer girlfriend, I’ve got shit ta blow up.”[17]

And he was out, leaving Logan to immediately rush off after him, which got both of them out of the condo. Puffy watching them with a smile.

Tubbo, as it turns out, did not make good on his explosion test threats, he continued on his patrol, and then went back home to the Bee ‘n Boo. Walking in with a suit and his usual business-friendly smile. Logan, meanwhile, returned to the base to communicate with, especially Ethan, about what he had heard from Tubbo’s sister.

To clear his mind, Tubbo immediately went into his apiary to make sure his bees were alright. Which is exactly where Ranboo found Tubbo.

“Hey, Tubs,” Ranboo smiled and Tubbo managed a small smile back.

“Hey, bossman,” Tubbo was looking at him through the fringe of his hair, “how have things been?”

“Been alright,” Ranboo sat next to Tubbo, crossing his legs as he sat down. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Tubbo denied, trying to ignore what had happened in the morning.

“Because,” Ranboo mentally halted, “this morning you screamed and you looked really scared, and I didn’t know how to help.”

“C’mon,[2] big man, I’m fine,” Tubbo lied. “E’eryone[18] has the occasional nightmares, I was just jumpy. Happens ta[5] e’eryone[18].”

“Y—” Ranboo looked away. “Yeah, I guess, but you know you can talk to me? Right?”

“Yeah, of course, same fer[6] you,” Tubbo told him, both teens knowing that they kept secrets from each other.

“I’m thinking,” Tubbo redirected, “pizza fer dinner. Wanna order somethin’?”[19]

“Sure, yeah,” Ranboo agreed and after Tubbo finished caring for the apiary, and the pizza was delivered, they both retired to their dwelling and Michael was very happy to settle down with both his dads for the night. The little boy stuffing his face with pizza, and trying to feed some to his stuffed toy chicken. The three of them watched cartoons until Michael fell asleep and Tubbo tucked him into bed.

Tubbo and Ranboo hoped that tomorrow would be a better day for all three of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. come here

2. come on

3. going to

4. kind of

5. to

6. for

7. You want to head on over?

8. them

9. of

10. want to

11. and

12. fucking

13. weed

14. probably

15. Where are those really fuckin’ good ice lollies [popsicles] you bought?

16. even

17. Whatever, go back to kissing your girlfriend, I’ve got shit to blow up.

18. Everyone

19. pizza for dinner. Want to order something?

[lordrethandus]

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 10

Sleepless ( @daily-writing-challenge​ )

World: Warcraft

The gangway stretched out over the pier before dropping onto the wooden platform with a heavy smack. A chorus of footsteps rocked the old galleon as a hundred Kaldorei stepped out from the darkness. Still covered in the ashes of their beloved home, and kin, they shuffled down the gangway with barely a word spoken among them. Stormwind residents gathered to stare at the latest batch of Teldrassil survivors corralled down the docks. Displaced, starving, and in mourning, the Night Elves kept their eyes on the ground, their voices in hushed whispers, and their faces soaked with dirty tears. All but the Tideclaws.

Sayuune looked no better off than the rest of them, but she kept her head held high. A month at sea didn't do her any favors; it had been days since she had access to drinkable water, and nearly a week since she had something solid to eat. Her exhausted eyes were bright with hard headed determination, and her face was as still as stone, yet she staggered and stumbled with every other step.

Her daughter Nodas was faring better, but not by much; her stomach growled loudly and often, while her hungry gaze was fixed on the bands of mercenaries and sellswords who otherwise ignored the flood of incoming refugees. They went about their business in gilded armor and glimmering steel, with swollen coin purses swinging freely from their waists. Surely a few of them wouldn't notice if some of their riches went missing.

"Hello! Hello hello!" Humans descended upon the shuffling crowd pushing or pulling large empty carts. One such creature approached Sayuune and Nodas with an uncomfortable twinkle in his grin. The opulent rings adorning his hands could only mean one thing - merchants seizing an opportunity to prey on the less fortunate. "You need gold! I need moon elf items my collection! We trade be happy!" His Darnassian was awful, but clear enough to understand. Sayuune saw other refugees trading in what little rags they had for copper and silver coins, desperate for a bite to eat and drinkable water.

The last thing Sayuune wanted to part with was her bramblestaff; not only was it a priceless family heirloom, it was one of the only things she had left of her husband. Reluctantly she raised the staff for the merchant to inspect. "How much will this get me?"

"Mom?!" Nodas hissed, her eyes flaring. "What are you doing?!" She squeezed her daughter's hand to get her to quiet down.

"We need food."

Unsurprisingly he ripped them off. A staff easily worth thirty thousand gold was traded for less than three. "What choice do I have…" When they reached the front of the line, Nodas was relieved to find a fellow Kaldorei sitting behind the desk, but Sayuune wasn't so easily pleased.

"Ishnu-alah, sisters." His dull yellow eyes scanned them both with a most unusual scrutiny. "My name is Lieutenant Armin Ashquiver. I'll need your names."

"Sayuune Tideclaw and Nodas Tideclaw." The mother proudly stated; they could take her home, her belongings, even her family, but their names would forever be theirs. He scribbled down their names in silence, adding them to the long list of poor displaced souls now forced to live in this strange and hostile city.

"There's a soup kitchen at the camps you'll be staying in. Courtesy of His Majesty. That should hold you over for the night... but don’t expect much. Most of the crops are headed straight to the warfront." He looked up at Sayuune. "Plenty of jobs out there for a steady income, but they're filling up fast. I know you're tired, but I'd recommend looking before nightfall." He pulled out a piece of paper and planted a red stamp on the bottom. "Enjoy your stay in Stormwind City."

The goopy slop poorly masquerading as soup was a grievous insult to the Kaldorei people, but it was still the best meal she's had since Teldrassil. Nodas ate more than her fair share and fell asleep before their tent was even made, but that hardly mattered to her mother; she was just happy her daughter was finally resting. Sayuune, however, couldn’t rest. Once the tent was built around her snoozing daughter, she departed to the streets of Stormwind to find work.

Shop by shop, street by street, she was hit with disappointment again, and again, and again. Day in, day out, sunset to sunset.

"Sorry we're not looking for applicants right now!"

"I'd love to give you a job but I'm full already!"

"I can't hire you right off the street!"

"A buddy of mine across the city might be interested in extra help."

"Sorry, but we can't - what will my wife think hiring a woman like you?"

"Can't hire an elf around here. I got my reputation to uphold… you understand, right?"

"Yeah babe I can hire you, heheh… how much for the night?"

"You're filthy! Beat it vagrant!"

Two weeks of searching. Two weeks of asking. Two weeks of nothing.

Every time she was turned away, the fake smile and forced persona was whittled down. Nightfall came and went, leaving her exhausted in the Mage Quarter courtyard. Her feet were screaming for rest and she could no longer ignore them; she found the nearest bench and almost collapsed onto it with a well-earned sigh of relief. The gold she earned selling her most prized possession was almost all gone; determination was turning into desperation, and if she didn’t find work soon, her daughter would begin to starve. For now her search would have to be put on hold until the shops reopened in the morning.

A woman eased herself down onto the bench beside Sayuune. Her fragrance was alluring but she couldn't recognize the scent, her silk clothes looked as expensive as the jewelry covering her hands and fingers; her painted nails were quite long, almost impractically so. She made Sayuune feel like a vagrant more than anyone else she's met in this abysmal city. "Hard time finding work?" The stranger asked with a seductively soothing voice. Sayuune was compelled to meet her gaze, but her words caught in her throat the moment she was confronted by her striking beauty; if she wasn't a Highborne, she could fool Sayuune.

"I…" Her timid mutter stirred the stranger to smile, her dark purple lips grinning from ear to ear.

Sayuune didn't notice the woman's hand until her nails traced the base of her chin. "Stunning, aren't I? There isn't a man alive that can resist my delectable charm. The dead ones aren't immune to it either." Sayuune wanted to pull away from her grip, but she felt paralyzed… mesmerized. "But look at you… these high cheekbones… these full lips… these glimmering eyes. You're quite the looker yourself, honey. How long do you plan on wandering these streets like a beggar when you can rule the underground scene like a queen?"

"What… do you…" It was difficult to speak when she gazed into her eyes, almost feeling like she was lost in a sea of swirling quicksilver.

The stranger's smile only grew. "I want to help you get back on your feet. I help run a little organization that's in serious need of gorgeous and flexible women like us. Interested?"

"An escort service?" That was enough to pull Sayuune out of her trance to rise to her throbbing feet. "I can't do that. To even approach me like… I can't. I have a husband I'm waiting on to return from the war… a daughter that looks up to me…"

"A shame." Her tone suddenly changed, as did the frigid expression on her face. "While you wait on your doting man, you and your daughter starve." She rose, towering over Sayuune in her jade heels. "Should you come to your senses, seek out the ugliest worgen you come across in Old Town." An uncomfortable grin spread across her lips. "Tell them Momma sent you." Before Sayuune could speak, Momma tossed a coin purse at her chest. "That's how much my girls can earn in a night. Sleep on it."

Sayuune watched as the elegant woman turned and strode off, presumably to another potential recruit. She waited until she was gone before opening the coin purse. "Impossible!" Her eyes went wide. "Three hundred gold?! She's lying…!" With that kind of income most of her problems would be over. Her and her daughter would eat better than they ever did; her husband would bring back two to three grand every two months… she could out earn that within weeks! Within days!

"No…" Sayuune closed her eyes and shuddered. "To betray Vilaron like this… I couldn't! How could I look him in the eyes if I… sold my body...?"

The journey back to the refugee camps was unbearably long. Her imagination played cruel games by asking her questions she didn't want the answers to. "What if Vilaron doesn't make it back in time before we starve to death? What if this woman already approached Nodas? What if she is being used by one of her 'clients' at this very moment?! What if she refused and they killed her?!"

Sayuune ignored the burning ache in her feet from sprinting back to the camps, darting through alleyways and ducking through corridors to get back to her daughter as quickly as possible. The soft glowing campfires down the hill only hastened her steps until she was almost gliding down the path to reach her tent.

She swung open the drape with an audible gasp, and her fears were put to rest; Nodas stirred in her hammock and mumbled under her breath, her feet blackened and calloused from wandering the streets as well -- yet her face was still wet with tears from crying herself to sleep. As Sayuune caught her breath and quietly approached her, she noticed the crumbled scroll still in her grip. Gently she wiggled it free from Nodas' hand, pulled it taut between her fingers, and read the distinct Darnassian letters neatly sprawled across the parchment.

To Sayuune Tideclaw and Nodas Tideclaw,

I regret to inform you the Sentinels recovered the body of your husband/father Vilaron Tideclaw. He will be delivered within the month so you can send him off properly.

Elune will grant us justice.

-L. Armin Ashquiver

Sayuune only made it halfway through the letter before she was blinded by her tears. The shock of this news hit her in waves, crashing against her composure like the tide against the cliffside; she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, wishing he left with them when Teldrassil burned. Wishing she could go back in time and save him.

Wishing she was dead.

Yet Sayuune endured - she had to. With a sharp inhale and a weak sniffle, she swallowed her anguish for her daughter's sake, stepped out of the tent, and wrapped her arms around herself. Others receiving similar news took it worse than she did; their screams carried across the farmland and over the pointed tents, filling the air with sorrow so palpable she could taste it every time she licked her lips.

Nodas is all she has left of her beloved Vilaron. She is willing to die for her, now more than ever; if she can lay down her life for her daughter, surely she could lay down her dignity as well. What choice did she have? “What choice do I have...” Every day she spends wasting her time looking for honest work, her daughter goes hungry. "For Nodas… no price is too great…"

With a slight grimace on her face and a shiver up her spine, Sayuune braced herself for the hardship she would endure in the unknowable future.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

your love is my turning page

(based on “Turning Page” by Sleeping at Last because I listened to it the other day and cried like...twice)

tw: whump, major character ‘death’, blood mention, canon typical violence but only briefly, snuggling, fluff

---

Geralt cradled the bard’s body gently against his chest as he exited the keep, which was burning to a massive stony heap behind him. His amber gaze was blank and his mouth formed a thin, grim line as he moved steadily towards the side of the path ahead, where Roach and the sorceress were waiting for his triumphant return. How disappointed they would be.

Yennefer gasped and covered her mouth with her hand when she finally saw what Geralt was carrying, her tone utterly disbelieving. “No, Geralt. Tell me it isn’t true. Please tell me that he isn’t-”

“We didn’t make it in time, Yen.”

“Geralt, I’m-”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Witcher interrupted again. His voice was toneless and his eyes were glazed and empty when he spoke. Yennefer worried her lip between her teeth, mouth still hidden by her hand. She reached out for Geralt with the other but he growled and flinched away from the contact, “Don’t.”

“Just let me-”

“Don’t touch him, Yen!” the Witcher bellowed, curling his arms up and holding the bard’s limp form against his chest. Tears leaked from his eyes, slow and impossible in their appearance (Witchers physically cannot cry, or so he’d thought). They made their way down his stubbled cheeks and fell noiselessly to the ground. Some of them hung from the end of his nose for a moment before plummeting. Some dropped down to form damp, grey marks on the material of the bard’s half-open chemise. A chemise covered in dark, drying smears of blood.

Jaskier’s blood.

Too much of Jaskier’s blood. 

The Witcher fell to his knees in a patch of flowers and pulled the broken form of his best friend even tighter to him. “I...I’m sorry I was too late this time,” he murmured against the crown of Jaskier’s clammy forehead. His slender, long-limbed body still hadn’t gone entirely cold yet despite the blood-loss. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

There were marks carved all over the bard’s torso, oozing blood through the thin material of his shirt; Geralt had seen the bloody sigils glowing faintly before he’d killed the crazed mage who’d put them there. The Witcher had pulled Jaskier’s shirt back down to cover his wounds and absconded with him, casting a careless Igni on his way out the door. 

The mage had needed a human sacrifice. The mage had chosen Jaskier.

Yen placed a gentle hand atop Jaskier’s unmoving shoulder and Geralt heard her empathetic sigh. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“I waited nearly a hundred years for someone to come along and show me what love was supposed to feel like and I’d wait a million more; but only for him,” the Witcher admitted. There was no reason not to admit things, now, when he couldn’t ruin anything between them. He laid the bard’s body down beside a small patch of daisies and buttercups and let the aching, burning tears continue their cascade down his face. He didn’t say anything more for a moment; words had never been his strong suit.

“Tell him now,” Yen suggested, her own voice watery with emotion, “Tell him everything. I’ll give you a moment alone.”

Yen wandered a few steps into the treeline to give them privacy, to give Geralt a moment alone with his paralyzed but absolutely not dead bard. She smirked to herself and wiped the forced tears from her eyes. Like taking candy from an enormous, stupid baby. Can he not hear the faint beating of his little bard’s resilient human heart?

“I’d give anything to see you smile at me again, Jaskier. I’m so, so sorry that we didn’t make it to you in time. I’m sorry that you died like this, for the sake of a greedy, power-hungry asshole. You were so bright. You brought so much happiness to the Continent. You brought so much happiness to me.”

Geralt, still kneeling next to Jaskier’s limp form, brushed a stray lock of brown hair behind the bard’s ear and felt a primal sense of loss wrap around every individual piece of his shattered and slow-beating heart. “If only I could have caressed your skin as softly as I often dream of doing. If only I could have felt your warmth in such a simple, human way. You made me stronger every time you coveted my weaknesses, you know. Even when I failed, you stayed at my side and told me how strong and kind I was. How brave I was. Your heart was so delicate and human and fragile. You forced me to work every day to improve myself. I would have done anything to keep you from breaking under the weight of this awful world and yet-” the Witcher’s voice broke completely and he only barely managed to gasp out “-and yet here we are.”

---

Jaskier could hear everything. The too-sweet paralyzation agent force-fed to him by the evil mage was close to wearing off but until then the bard could only listen as the man of his dreams mourned his apparent death. He could only lay in stunned silence as Yennefer noticed the presence of the mixed herbs and refused to mention them to Geralt. Perhaps this was her gift to Jaskier; perhaps this was an apology. Whatever twisted form of affection she was showing her new friend for now, though, had the bard feeling more than a little upset.

He hated seeing Geralt so worked up. So sad. So hurt.

“I’m going to miss your presence in the world, Jaskier. I’m going to miss the way you smiled when you blushed; gods, I wanted to make you smile at me like that so many times...it was blinding. The way your lip would curl up and your tongue would poke out when you scribbled your poems into that damned expensive notebook at inns or near the fire. Gods, I-”

“I could fix him for you,” Yen offered, returning from the trees. It was almost nonchalant in its casualness. Almost. 

“What’s the price for such an impressive feat?” Geralt asked. He smoothed the bard’s hair back again. He’d need to bury the corpse soon; he could barely stand to look at it any longer. It’s not Jaskier anymore, not without those sparkling eyes and that trembling, velvet voice. 

He’d do anything to hear that voice again, even Jaskier was only cussing him out or calling him every name in the book. He’d listen to a thousand repetitions of every insult hurled his way by every villager across the Continent if it meant Jaskier was saying them with the voice Geralt knew he’d never hear again. 

His voice was low and quiet when he asked the sorceress: “What kind of ingredients would you need for such a task?”

“I would need a sacrifice of equal value. Those runes can only be transferred from one person to another.”

Geralt’s head whipped around and his eyes widened hopefully. “Use me. If that will bring him back then take me.”

“And get horrifically murdered when he wakes to find his darling Witcher dead and buried? No, thank you. I don’t have a death wish.”

Smart woman, Jaskier thought. Just give me the antidote or whatever magical cure I know you’re hiding, Yennefer! Let me up! Let me comfort him, I’ve heard enough!

She’d clearly been listening to his thoughts because just as he summoned the worst of his insults to silently throw her way, Yen relented. She knelt beside Geralt and leaned forward, pressing her palm to the center of Jaskier’s forehead. There was a soft purple glow and Geralt panicked, “What are you doing!? You just said-”

“I lied,” she shrugged. “He was just paralyzed. You should have been able to hear his heart, faint as it was.”

“You...you mean…” Jaskier’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he groaned softly. The Witcher’s eyes were wide and shimmered with new tears as he leaned over the bard’s prostrate figure. “Jaskier?”

“Did-” he coughed and groaned again but pushed on “-did you mean it?”

“Every word,” Geralt smiled shyly. He hadn’t thought Witchers could blush, either, but here they sat; Geralt’s cheeks were pale pink and Jaskier was still heaving out labored breaths.

“Here are some basic healing supplies for the bard’s chest,” Yen interrupted, tossing a linen bag towards Geralt, who caught it easily. “I’m going to be on my way. You two need a moment, seems like.”

“Thank you, Yen,” Jaskier smiled. Geralt glanced between the two but before he could ascertain the bard’s meaning, the sorceress had fled through one of her portals and disappeared. As soon as she was gone, Jaskier let out the loud, anguished cry he’d been holding back in her presence. “Fuck me, this hurts! Fuck!”

“Fucking hells,” Geralt scrambled through the bag for some kind of pain relief. He placed a few drops of poppy tincture at the end of Jaskier’s tongue and lifted him slowly from the ground. “Let’s get you to an inn. I need to treat those cuts and I can’t do it very well in the grass.”

“My big, scary Witcher,” Jaskier smiled, hooking his arms around Geralt’s neck as he was lifted into the White Wolf’s embrace. “Taking care of me so well.”

---

That night, Geralt laid with Jaskier’s head atop his chest. The oddly patterned cuts across the bard’s torso were now covered in salve and bandaged tightly.

“None of my training prepared me for this,” the Witcher admitted, kissing Jaskier’s petal-soft cheek with the utmost reverence. 

“What is this?” the bard asked.

“I am yours,” Geralt stated. It was a simple fact. A fact he’d accepted the moment he realized he hadn’t lost Jaskier forever. The younger man’s face went bright red and he nuzzled closer to his rescuer’s side. Geralt’s strong arm was looped around his back, holding him close. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Gladly.”

The bard leaned up and pressed his lips to Geralt’s. It was soft, tender, and endlessly healing. Warmth spread through the Witcher’s body, spreading from his heart to each and every one of his limbs. He pulled the bard completely on top of him and wrapped his arms around the man’s lower back to anchor him. Jaskier crossed his arms over Geralt’s chest and rested his chin there. 

“Though we’re tethered to the story we must tell, When I saw you, well I knew we’d tell it well.”

“Is that your newest composition?” the Witcher asked, running his hand through Jaskier’s soft brown hair as he sang. The bard nodded. 

“It’s a love song. About a Witcher...and a bard.”

“Hmm. I can’t wait to hear it.”