#sigh i miss my disaster mage

[a-drama-addict]

im thinking about chloe again bc da2 posting is REAL. and im just thinking of numerously funny ways she could come out as trans

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Moments with Little Gray

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by ILoveCelestialIce

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Chapter 1

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It was supposed to be an ‘ordinary’ day for the members of Fairy Tail — or as ordinary as they could get, if that was even possible— and of course for everyone’s favourite celestial mage, Lucy Heartfilia.

Her team was out on a mission without her since Erza and Natsu kept on insisting her to stay for the reason of being sick. In defence, she desperately told them that she needed money for her rent, yet again, and kept on urging them that she’s going to be alright. But despite her perseverance and forcing herself on staying strong in front of them, her body failed to cooperate with her longer as her nose scrunch up due to the itchy feel and mucus mounting up inside it. No longer than that, she yield a massive sound of sneezing causing every one of her team to hide and shield themselves from catching her ‘virus’— as Natsu called it, which earned him a not-so-terrifying yell from the blonde nakama.

Lucy could surely picture what happened that day.

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She fell on her fours, scrutinizing herself for failing miserably on trying to persuade her team for her to come. If she didn’t have to pay the month’s rent, she wouldn’t even have the slightest intention of going with them in her condition.

Yea, she would’ve just borrow from anyone ONLY IF they have the money but, screw that stupid 7 year time skip that made them suffer from HUGE DEBTS! She wasn’t blaming Mavis for it. In fact, she was happy that she saved them, but do they really have to be frozen for SEVEN WHOLE YEARS?

And her father was even kind enough to pay her rent for her seven year absence.

But now, she’s definitely going to be kicked out.

These were just the things that Lucy is thinking at that moment when Gray’s voice filled the air.

“Well, we could still divide it into four even if you won’t come along.”

“How come I’m not included?” Happy said while he gloomily sulked at one corners of the room, eating his fish.

Lucy’s head snapped at her raven-haired friend, face scrunching up in both confusion and surprise.

“Are you sure? I mean, you all need money, too. And I just couldn’t take any part of it if I haven’t done anything, right? That’ll be unfair for you guys.”

“Well, it is going to be unfair if we won’t give you your share if almost every day Natsu and Happy always raided and emptied your fridge, along with Gray who always cause you trouble for being naked.” Erza explained, crossing her arms in front of her.

The owner of the three said names practically jumped in protest while saying that Erza is one of them, which makes their efforts in objecting come to waste and their poor body to receive a really fatal blow from the one and only ‘Titania.’

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Lucy smiled at the memory. It was nice of her team to do that but she was feeling lonely when they’re not around. She really misses them that she wishes she weren’t sick when they decided to go on that mission.

But now, after one week of waiting, they will be arriving soon. And she can’t help but feel a little excited to see them— and of course her share, for she will be able to finally pay her rent.

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But…WAIT A FREAKIN’ MINUTE!

Lucy clutched her head and her eyes widen when a thought came rushing through her perceptive mind.

Erza + Natsu + Gray + going out on a mission together = DISASTER!

Disaster = NO RENT MONEY!

Lucy sank her head on her folded arms on the bar counter and groaned audibly, gaining Mirajane’s attention.

“What’s wrong Lucy?” the fair headed beauty asked as she approached the dejected looking blonde.

“My life.” She muttered. Lucy then raised her head and shed animated tears. “My life is ruined. And I’m going to spend my nights in the lonely streets of Magnolia.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucy sighed and straightened her body before looking more dejectedly in front of Mira, which of course made the barmaid sweat drop.

“Erza, Natsu and Gray on a mission together will lead to a huge disaster, and what comes after that?” Lucy said and answered her own question, “No rent money, Mira. NO. RENT. MONEY!”

Mira giggled. “Have a little faith in them would you?”

“How, when I know how they work as a team? They could destroy everything if they get too fired up.”

As soon as these words are said, the double doors of Fairy Tail opened, revealing three silhouette of Team Natsu: Erza, Happy and Natsu, who’s been carrying a weird looking bag.

“We’re back…” they greeted rather tiredly, which of course confuses everyone present. Natsu usually kick the doors open, energetically scream his greeting and would immediately get to another fight. But this Natsu in front of them is actually tired and looked like he ran a million mile marathon— if there was one.

What confuses them more is the absence of one certain Ice make mage. He would usually be seen fighting Natsu when returning from a mission, but now he’s nowhere in sight.

“Guys!” said Lucy as she walked towards them with a hopeful look on her face.

They were about to greet her back when they were interrupted.

“LEMME GO!”

Everyone was startled by the sudden scream. And to top it all off, the scream was like that of a child.

“Oh, shut up!” Natsu said and turned his back on Erza, who in turn spun to face Natsu’s back as if knowing what to do.

But that’s when everyone’s shock piqued.

There, secured in a baby holder bag that Natsu was carrying, was a child who looked so much like Gray. He’s wearing a dark blue, oversized girl shirt and baby diapers that was done improperly.

Erza pulled a baby bottle out of one of her bags and handed it to the child.

“Here. Drink this and be quiet.”

Everybody shivered at how Erza treated the child. It’s as if she acts her normal self around everyone, and even a child is no excuse.

The child huffed at her and made a face like he’s not afraid of ‘Titania.’ And from the looks of it, he’s really not.

The child throws a little tantrum that even Erza herself couldn’t handle. Maybe that’s the reason behind her worn-out appearance?

“I give up.”

Hearing this only makes the thought accurate: Erza couldn’t handle this child.

“LEMME GO! LEMME GO! LEMME GO!” the child yelled repeatedly as he flails his little hands everywhere making his hands hit Natsu in the process, irking the salmon headed boy.

“And who might this child be?” Mira inquired, materializing beside Lucy— who was showing a worried expression towards her team.

Natsu, Erza and Happy’s exhausted faces simultaneously turned towards the white haired maiden before answering her in the most nonchalant way.

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“Gray.”

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“Oh. I thought so! I didn’t think you’d turn into a child again, Gray. Though, you really looked cute right now.” Mira said and smiled sweetly making everyone fall animatedly on the ground.

“Mi-Mira-san, that was really uncalled for in this kind of situation.” Wendy commented, with Charles nodding in her arms.

Lucy’s eyes bulged out of its sockets while looking at the shrunken Gray Fullbuster. She couldn’t believe that something like this could happen. Well, there was a time with the whole ‘time clock’ fiasco but she weren’t there to witness it— that Gray turned into a child and was quoted ‘cute’ by his companions.

But now, she’s seeing it with her own eyes.

“Onee-chan,” Lucy’s thoughts were snapped when Gray’s cute little voice called out. She looked at his face and saw that he was looking at her. What surprises her more is when chibi-Gray’s eyes were suddenly filled with tears and his lips started quivering.

Chibi-Gray held his hands out to her as if asking her to take him, which was found cute, not only by her, but by everyone present— with the exception of Natsu and Erza of course.

“Don’t get fooled by his ‘pitiable-and-d’awww-he’s-so-cute’ gestures. He’s just acting!” surprisingly, it was Natsu who said this, making people send him confused looks. Natsu thinks Gray’s gestures were cute? Everyone mentally asked themselves, not wanting to get involve.

“Believe Natsu, Lucy. Even I couldn’t handle him.” Everyone’s attention was turned to Erza and they can’t believe she was agreeing to Natsu. But Lucy’s eyes were transfixed to Gray, who was still reaching out to her.

“Who knows what he’ll do if you’d let him go.” Natsu added.

Lucy glared at him. She walked closer and outstretched her arm in an attempt to pick Gray up in her arms.

“LUCY!” Natsu protested, “Don’t!” But it was too late.

Lucy took Gray in her arms and cradled him closely, rocking him back and forth, trying to calm the boy.

“How can a little boy cause trouble?” she commented, now saying soothing words to Gray who was now clinging tightly and crying on Lucy’s neck.

“Gurei’s bum-bum awwie (hurts).” Gray said accompanied with his little sobs. Lucy and the others blushed hearing how Gray talk, especially when mentioning his name. They were trying their very best to hold their urges to tackle chibi-Gray into hugs and kisses, or keep him to their selves. “Pinky-nii and Kowaii-nee made Gurei stay in bag. And bum-bum-chan awwie.”

Natsu and Erza’s veins popped at their new nicknames but cringed slightly when Lucy once again glared at the duo and let Gray continue on.

“Gurei’s hanguree (hungry) but they only feed him milk, and fish (raw, courtesy of Happy) and it taste bad.”

“Ok. We would ask Bisca-nee if she could teach us to make baby food.” As Lucy said this, she was still scowling at her teammates in disappointment. At this moment, almost everyone is so jealous of Lucy. They also wanted to hold Gray even for a moment, but by the way Lucy’s murderous aura emanated from her body made them cower in their seats.

“You guy are not taking good care of him. You should be patient with him knowing his condition.”

She said as she approached Bisca. Lucy asked her on how to make baby food but Bisca told them that she’ll teach Lucy later. The green haired mom said it’ll take long to cook it and just gave her the extra food she made for Asuka in case of any emergency.

Lucy accepted it and looked back at her two stunned friends who are rooted on the ground complementing whether to approach her or keep their distance for a while. “And don’t think you two are off the hook just because I’m about feed Gray. I still have my questions after.”

Gray eyed the food while sucking his thumb, traces of tears were still visible on his eyes and chubby cheeks.

..ooOoo..

Chapter 2

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“You what?!” Lucy bellowed at Natsu, with the latter’s head on the ground and muttering his apology to his blonde teammate.

“Natsu, how many times do I have to tell you that if you ever encounter a strange looking text, you shouldn’t read it in order? Did you forget what happened to us after you recited that Changeling spell?” Lucy scolded Natsu after hearing what happened.

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Basically, during the mission, when they were about to go back, Natsu found a piece of paper with a strange script written on it. Erza and Gray did warn him not to read it but along the way, he still did.

And just like the Changeling spell, Erza, Gray and Happy emitted blinding lights off their body and, before Natsu could do anything, they transformed into their child self, with the exception of himself, much to his relief― who else would change them back if he himself was turned into a child? Without knowing anything to do with it, Natsu tried to remember what Levy did to redo the spell. It took him minutes to finally realize that he should recite the spell backwards.

But when he looked around, only Erza was left and Gray and Happy are both running off playing tag. So he decided to try it to Erza first. Natsu was really hoping that what he’s gonna do will work because he knows he’ll get some good scolding (and beatings) afterwards― but come to think of it, no one would scold him if the red head stayed as she is now. With this thought in mind, Natsu looked at Erza and gulped at her innocent stare.

Yea, he better turn her back to normal. Erza’s scary whatever age she’s in.

After reciting the spell backwards, he was happy to see that his red headed team mate reverted back to normal but he got a lot of beatings after. He then took off, looking for Gray and Happy and was glad to catch his blue flying partner. He, once again, recited the spell backwards and Happy was back to normal.

He was doing fine. He thought he was a genius for remembering how to revert the spell but he forgot one important thing: like the Changeling spell, he only had 30 minutes of reverting everyone affected by the spell or else they will suffer the consequences.

And that is what happened to Gray. Natsu couldn’t catch him in time.

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“Huh! Doesn’t matter, we’ll just have to think of something like what we did with Changeling that time.” Lucy said, taking a quick glance at Gray who is now seen playing with Plue. The blonde gal looked at Natsu again and showed him her palms.

“Give me the paper and let’s ask Levy-chan to decipher it when she comes back from their team’s job. See if there’s anything we could do.” She said.

Natsu stiffened.

Erza coughed.

Happy munched on his fish.

Lucy quirked an eyebrow.

“Well?” she asked again, getting a bad feeling at how they are acting.

Natsu fidgeted his fingers, a rare sight, and Lucy’s heart raced in nervousness. This is a bad sign. She thought.

“I…kind of…well…the paper…u-uhm…”

“Where’s the paper?!” Lucy yelled, getting impatient.

With this, Natsu blurted out everything in one breathing.

“I LOST THE PAPER WHEN I THOUGHT GRAY WAS NEVER GOING TO RETURN TO NORMAL! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!”

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“You what?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Lucy sank on her seat as if she lost all of her energy. “Now you’ve really done it.” she said, eyeing the boy. But instead of anger, Lucy’s eyes held sympathy in them as she continued, “Juvia will kill you for this.”

Natsu turned white. He could imagine that the water mage’s rage could drown him with cold and scalding water at the same time. Everyone else pitied him, thinking of what is going to be left of him if Juvia finds out. After all, water could kill fire, what more with an enraged water mage? He was sure lucky she was out on a mission.

“Do you guys think the Master knows how to lift this spell?” Lucy asked, particularly to Mira. The fair headed barmaid was thoughtful for a second before looking at the blonde, answering the question. “We could only hope. But I’m afraid he’s been caught up with the ‘welcome back’ party thrown at him by the other guild masters and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Lucy sighed and looked at Gray. The latter saw it and run towards her.

“Onee-chan, Gurei like Puru (Plue).” He said that made Lucy smile.

She was a bit suspicious about this spell, though (and a bit scared). Why would a person create a spell to bring a person back to his child self? And as far as Lucy could see, it’s not just the form that changes, even the memories of the person affected were erased, unlike the Changeling spell. She also theorized that maybe even the person’s magic couldn’t be used anymore. The blonde only hopes that this spell could be easily lifted and not permanent.

Lucy shivered at the thought of Gray never coming back to his original form and will live his life the second time around. She knows he doesn’t like that. Even more, she’s scared of Juvia’s reaction.

The blonde turned to everyone as another thought concerning Gray filled her mind. “Who’s going to take him in then?” she asked and everyone fell silent, looking at her intently. She noticed their look and jolted in understanding, standing in protest.

“You guys can’t be serious!” she objected, “I have no experience on taking care of a child!”

But everyone held their gazes, making her twitch. She isn’t gonna give up so easily. She turned her head towards the green haired mom.

“I wanted to, but I have Asuka.” Bisca said. Lucy sighed and looked at the next candidate.

“I have a very short temper,” Mira stated casually as she saw Lucy’s gaze on her.

Lucy looked at Elfman and Lisanna and saw them sweating while nodding vigorously. And Lucy just had to agree.

She sighed again and looked at the last people that should take responsibility.

“I can’t handle him.” Both Erza and Natsu answered.

“But you two are the ones responsible for this!” she countered.

“But he doesn’t like us.” They muttered simultaneously once again.

Erza heaved a sigh, stopping Lucy from saying anything. “And he obviously took a liking to you. He even likes your spirits.” She said, looking at the happy Gray playing with Plue again.

“But—”

“Gray-kun,” Lucy heard Mira called. She looked over her shoulders and saw Gray hugging Plue closely while eyeing Mira in doubt. It seems like he doesn’t trust anyone besides the blonde.

“Do you like Lucy-chan?”

Gray made a confused face making Mira giggle. She pointed at the blonde and repeated her question. “Do you like Lucy-chan?”

Gray followed Mira’s fingers and his eyes lit up when he saw Lucy. “Lu…tan?” he asked.

Mira giggled once again before nodding.

“Gurei like Lu-tan!” he cheered, making everyone coo by his cuteness. He smiled and laughed as he cuddled Plue close. “And Gurei like Puru, too!”

Mira smiled at him and looked at Lucy. “It seemed like you don’t have any other choice, Lucy. Gray doesn’t trust anyone except you. And he likes you.”

“But…” she trailed off and walked to where Gray is. She kneeled in front of him and smiled when he gave her his grin.

“Do you want to live with me?” she asked. Gray looked at her for a moment before he smiled widely and leaped at her, nodding his head in approval.

Lucy was at first surprised, but later on smiled at Gray’s cuteness. She patted his head in exchange before breaking the hug and faced everyone.

“Okay. But you guys need to do something for me,” Everyone cocked their heads in confusion but nodded nonetheless. “You guys should protect me from Juvia.”

..ooOoo..

Chapter 3

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“Lu-tan home near?” the raven haired child asked in excitement as Lucy carried him in her arms, walking towards her apartment.

“Yea,” she said, “But let me tell you that there’s really nothing to expect.”

Gray didn’t pay any attention to what she said and focused his dark blue orbs ahead, imaginations running wild― roller coasters and wild animals are some of the things he’s anticipating. After a little while, they arrived and all he could do was to gape.

“Well, here we are.” Lucy announced. Gray looked at Lucy and sends her a confused stare.

“Lu-tan home?”

Lucy nodded and smiled but Gray only sighed. Almost immediately, a tick mark appeared on her forehead.

Patience, Lucy. He’s just a child. Was going to be her mantra from now on.

“Where ‘vroom-vrooms’ and other Puru?”

“What were you expecting, exactly?”

..ooOoo..

Chapter 4

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As they got inside, Lucy placed Gray on her couch and told him to stay put. But she really couldn’t just leave him alone, could she? So she once again summoned Plue. She was glad that the spirit could be summoned any time after earning its trust.

When she saw how Gray’s face lit up just by the sight of Plue put her heart at ease. At least I know he will be preoccupied into playing with Plue than to poke his innocent head into anything he finds peculiar. She thought.

But then again, everything a child sees practically intrigues them. Lucy smiled as she strode her way towards her kitchen to prepare Gray’s (from now until he’s back to normal) food, as instructed by Bisca.

“I didn’t know baby food could be such a pain,” Lucy muttered and prepared the things needed. She was lucky she still had some carrots and potatoes. As she busied herself in cooking (after picking the carrots), she can’t help but think about how long was she gonna cook for him. She hoped he would revert back soon.

But if she’s going to take care of him, she should know what to do. Why she accepted this job again, she can’t remember. She can’t even believe she let her fellow guild members talked her into this. But then again, they could talk her into anything. They’re that persuasive.

Lucy sighed.

Now, how to take care of a child?

From his looks now, Gray should be around the age of 2 to 3. Lucy stopped stirring and pondered: How do you take care of a two/three year old kid?

“I have a lot to talk about with Bisca.” She said and transferred some of the food to a small bowl. Lucy placed it on a tray, took a glass from the cupboard and poured milk into it. She grabbed a spoon on her way back and placed it on the tray as well before securing both of its side with her hands and went inside her living area to find Gray staring at the photo on the side table, Plue licking a candy he found from somewhere.

“What are you looking at?” she asked kindly, placing the tray of food on the center table.

Gray lifted his head and pointed his little finger on the photo. “Lu-tan look different.”

Lucy looked at the photo and giggled. She sat in front of Gray and took the photo in her hand. “This is not Lu-tan. This is Lu-tan’s mother.” It felt kind of weird saying Gray’s nickname for her, but she thought it was cute. And the way he said it tingled her insides.

Gray looked at the photo again, then to Lucy, then back to the photo. He did this a couple more times before his little mouth formed a small ‘o’ and nodded.

“She look like Lu-tan.”

Lucy giggled again but then her smile faded when she saw the look on Gray’s face. He looked forlorn while gazing at the photo on the blonde’s hands.

“Mommy…” he muttered until tears starts swarming his eyes.

Lucy panicked. Obviously doesn’t know what to do. She placed the photo back on the table and sat beside the boy, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

And Gray wailed. He hugged Lucy and cried, calling his mother. The blonde, feeling the sadness emitting from the boy, hugged him closer and whispered soothing words.

“There, there.” She said.

So he does remember something. Lucy thought.

She patted his head as thoughts of her own mother filled her mind. Lucy knows fully well what Gray is feeling right now. Losing your parents is hard. And for a two/three year old kid like what Gray is right now, having both your parents gone is much harder than what a 17 (24) year old young woman like her could handle.

“You know, my mom’s not with me anymore either,” Lucy stated and placed her chin on Gray’s head while she brought him on her lap and cradled him close. “She’s in a much wonderful place right now.”

Gray suddenly became quiet. He sniffed before looking up to Lucy, obviously getting interested over her story. “Where?” he asked, curious.

Lucy could only smile. Standing up, she carried Gray and walked towards her window, looking up at the sky’s panoramic view of the setting sun. It painted the heavens with vermillion hues, bleeding into the sky’s aquamarine and cerulean colors while it melds with darker purples of the slightly wispy clouds.

It was a remarkable view and a perfect moment to relay her thoughts to the little boy in her arms, while he’s overwhelmed with the sight above.

“See those clouds up there?” she started, “My mom’s living there now with my father.”

Gray looked at her and his eyes lit up. “Really?!” he asked in utter amazement, “Wow!”

Lucy was stunned at how quick a child’s behaviour could change in just a flick of a finger. She finds them so mercurial.

“Yea. If the view here is so heavenly, what more if we’re up there?” Lucy looked up once again and smiled; explaining things to Gray also gives her the same treatment of understanding things— even if what she’s saying isn’t the truth, she knows that her parents and Gray’s parents are in a paradise none of the living knows about. Losing someone dear will undeniably cause pain and tears but that doesn’t mean you should live with the past burdening you. Some people are used to think that they could never survive losing their parents— or anyone dear to them, for that matter. But something, or someone, will give you strength you didn’t know you have. The strength to cope up. The strength to live on. Everyone should know this, should know that there are people who will help you along the way. And those people who could help Gray right now are herself and all of Fairy Tail.

“Your mom is probably there, too, Gray. With your dad.”

Gray looked from Lucy to the sky that is beginning to darken more.

“They might be in a beautiful place right now but I’m sure that they would never stop watching over you. And I know that they are sooo happy to see you looking at them. So happy that you grow up to be a very good kid (man), finding and protecting everything important to him.”

“Mommy and Daddy happy there? They watch Gurei?” he inquired. Lucy merely nodded.

“Lu-tan’s mommy and daddy up there, too? Watch Lu-tan?”

The blonde stiffened. Tears pricked her eyes but she held it in and smiled, giving another enthusiastic nod to the raven haired boy.

Gray blinked his tears away and grinned. He brought his hands up to wave, leaving Lucy to support him so he wouldn’t fall out of balance. “MOMMY! DADDY!” he said.

“Lu-tan! Say hi to your mommy and daddy, too! Say it with Gurie!” he chirped and all his earlier melancholy gone.

..ooOoo..

Chapter 5

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.“We need to buy you clothes,” Lucy commented as she sorted out her article of clothing to look for something that could fit Gray. “But then again, you would strip out of it in seconds.”

“TRIP!”

Lucy laughed hearing Gray. “Strip, not TRIP.”

“Su-trip? What Su-trip?”

Lucy thought for a second before answering Gray, taking a pink tee shirt from the far end corner of her closet. “I don’t really want to be the cause of your unusual habit.”

“RABBIT!”

Lucy laughed once again making Gray tilt his head to the side. He looked at Lucy’s happy face and laughed with her as well, without knowing what they’re laughing at in the first place.

“L-Let’s just get you to bath.” Lucy smiled, wiping a single tear from the corner of her eye as she grabbed Gray’s hand and guided him to the bathroom.

“Now, strip your clothes off.”

“TRIP~!”

And they’re back from the start.

..ooOoo..

Chapter 6

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She didn’t really think things could be awkward.

Lucy already explained that stripping out of his clothes simply means “taking the clothes off.” And Gray obediently did as told, while grinning widely after knowing what “strip” means. The blonde maiden was afraid of that grin, actually. It almost seemed mischievous to her. Well, what would an innocent child think from learning the word strip while grinning like that? She could imagine what would Gray think if he’s normal, but him as a child? No. Just, no!

But the awkward part doesn’t end there, it’s looking straight at Gray.

How?

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He’s naked.

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Well, you will say he’s just a baby but what would you do if you’ve seen him naked in his normal body? She just can’t remove the image of him from their first meeting when she’s staring at little Gray.

“Uhm, Gray?” she called and the black haired boy looked at her with his innocent eyes, making her shift on her seat and looking at him straight in the eye, forcing herself not to look down. “C-can you bathe yourself?”

Gray vigorously shook his head and run towards the blonde. Lucy jerked as Gray’s little hands took hold of her own and lead her to her large tub. “Together?”

Lucy’s face flushed beet red. Of course, a little child’s offer would just be an innocent one but, he’s still Gray, right? Now that she think about it, will Gray remember everything when he returns back to normal?

“U-uhm.”

Gray pouted and removed his grasp off Lucy’s hand, making the blonde sigh in relief…only to shriek in shock when she felt warm water splattering her face.

Lucy turned and caught Gray on the act of splashing water towards her, laughing. He continually did that to purposely wet the blonde.

“Now Lu-tan take bath with Gurei!” he squealed and clapped his hands.

Lucy looked down and saw her favourite clothes are damp. She sighed heavily as she wiped her wet face with her hands, looking mad at the moment.

“Patience, Lucy. He’s just a child.” She muttered out her mantra, trying to calm herself.

The boy notices the blonde’s silence and stopped from playing. He cringed as he saw Lucy’s eyes on him.

Thinking quickly, Gray took Lucy’s hand again and gave her his puppy-dog eyes, as if a child asking for forgiveness. And he is a child so, yea.

Lucy blushed, her earlier expression gone. He looked too cute, she thought.

“Sowwy (sorry)?” he said and Lucy needs to put a hand on her nose and take her eyes off of Gray to prevent herself from nose bleeding. Seriously, Lucy?! she nagged herself mentally, nose bleeding from all the cuteness?! You must be crazy!

“Lu-tan,” Gray called softly and the blonde had willed her mind (and nose) to stop with all the thoughts (and blood) accumulating inside her. She slowly and carefully, still willing herself to keep her guards on while sniffing, turned her head only to face the never-faltering, puppy-dog eyes his face holds.

“Gurei’s sowwy…” he said again, but this time looking down and looked truly repentant. And Lucy cooed in her mind. She smiled.

This is but a mere child, she thought, what wrong could it do if I take his offer?

Trying to get to the tub without Gray noticing, Lucy spooned some warm water using her one hand before splashing it towards the boy.

The raven haired baby would’ve shrieked when the water touched his cold skin if only he didn’t realize that Lucy was laughing. Gray looked up and smiled— Lucy’s smiling down at him.

“So, let’s take a bath together?” she asked and Gray cheered.

Chapter 7

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“Pfff.” Lucy held her laugh in as she looked at the black haired boy wearing her pink shirt, which looked extra-large over him. She didn’t think a day would come when she will see Gray in a pink shirt. She had seen him wear purple, yea, but pink is still different. Well, at least he’s wearing something instead of being stark naked.

“It looks good on you.” She commented, drying Gray’s hair as they both sat on her bed while staring at their reflection on her mirror hanging opposite them.

The raven haired boy smiled at her on the mirror before continuing what he’s doing. Lucy knitted her brows and tried to see what Gray’s been preoccupied with. And then she smiled.

Gray was folding the ends of his clothes (the one Lucy handed him for sleeping), making it shorter before twisting and tucking each side inside his diapers. Satisfied with his handiwork, Gray smiled and looked at Lucy. “Ready~!” he cheered, raising both his arms.

The blonde laughed and took Gray in her arms before putting him to bed. She covered him with her pink duvet and patted his head soothingly before saying good night.

Gray closed his eyes and smiled after hearing Lucy’s gentle voice softly tickling his ears. He doesn’t know why but just the sight of the blonde makes him happy. And because of everything that happened this day― at the guild when holding him close, feeding him, playing with Plue, their talk about his parents, taking a bath, everything―he seemed closer to her, seemed as if he’s known her his whole life, as if she’s someone important to him. He doesn’t understand everything considering he’s but a mere child, but he knows that in the short span of time that they’ve spent together, he trusts Lucy more than anyone and no one in this world will he want to spend his time with but the blonde― and Plue (even if there are no ‘vroom-vrooms’ in her house).

He then heard a rustle and when he opened his eyes he saw the blonde walking away. Gray immediately sat up.

“Lu-tan!” he called.

Lucy jerked her head towards him and gave him a surprised and confused expression. “Y-yea?”

Gray removed himself from the comforter and jumped down the bed towards Lucy. With tears stinging his eyes, he wrapped his little arms around one of the blonde’s leg. “Please don’t leave Gurei alone?”

Lucy sensed the panic in his voice and she crouched down while removing Gray’s hands on her leg. But as soon as she’s down, Gray promptly threw his arms around her neck and burying his head on its crook, surprising her.

And that’s when she realized: the only thing that he wants was for her to always stay by his side.

Lucy smiled. She remembered her mother.

As a child, she herself never wanted to be separated from her mother, since she’s her most trusted person. And because the boy has trust issues and she’s the only person that he relied on at the moment, she concluded that he doesn’t want to be parted with her even for a second.

It was overwhelming to be trusted this much. But she was happy, nonetheless. And she doesn’t know why but she was washed by a wave of protectiveness over the boy.

Lucy wrapped her arms around him and scooped him before walking towards her bed. She tucked the boy under the duvet once more but this time, she lied beside him, hugging the boy close to her as they slept with one song in mind― the song her mother used to sing to her.

Wherever you are, I’ll always make you smile.

Wherever you are, I’m always by your side.

Whatever you say, kimi wo omou kimochi

I promise you “forever” right now.

Wherever you are, I’ll never make you cry.

Wherever you are, I’ll never say goodbye.

Whatever you say, kimi wo omou kimochi.

I promise you “forever” right now.

..ooOoo..

Chapter 8

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Lucy and Gray walked the path to her home at Strawberry Street while the blonde carried bags full of clothes, foods and other needed stuff for Gray as well as hers. Plue was walking with them as per requested― by the raven haired boy, of course. The little dudes are licking popsicles, smudging their faces with the sweet treat.

Seeing this, Lucy sighed and crouched down. She placed the bags down before fishing her hanky on her pocket and wiping Gray’s mouth. He immediately sucked the Popsicle in his hands once again, making Lucy’s effort come to waste.

She giggled at the sight and decided to do the act once he finished eating.

“It’s a good thing that Erza and Natsu gave me your share in the reward money. Though, I hope you’ll forgive me for buying too much.” She said, eyeing the bags on her side. Lucy looked back at Gray and saw him tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“Well, I’m doing this for you so you should just bear with it.” Lucy stared at his dark blue eyes, seeming to look at something, which she really is. “If you could hear me―” she paused, thinking what to call him, “err…‘the-Gray-I-know’, I’m sorry for using your money to buy all these stuff. But these are for your own good soooo…I hope you understand.”

Gray removed his popsicle from his mouth with a ‘pop’ and looked at her as if she’s the weirdest thing he had ever seen, “Lu-tan weird.”

She felt a protruding tick mark on her forehead but remained calm for him. “I was just talking to the Gray I know, hoping he could hear me― if ever he’s somewhere inside you.”

“But Gurei ish Gurei.” He said and resumed eating the treat.

Lucy laughed and patted his head before grabbing the bags and continuing their walk. “Hold onto my skirt. I don’t want you wandering off.”

Gray nodded and grabbed Lucy’s skirt. He was surprisingly obedient. “Puru, hold Gurei. Don’t wan you wan-ring off.” He echoed the blonde’s words making her chuckle.

“Let’s go to the guild after we drop these bags home, ‘kay?”

And she smiled receiving a positive response from her companions.

Chapter 9

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“Gray~” Mira cooed once she saw a glimpse of the boy on Lucy’s arm. Apparently, Gray insisted on being carried. And Lucy did so after realizing that he was still feeling uncomfortable around anyone else.

As soon as the name flowed out her mouth, everyone in the vicinity turned their heads at the entrance of the guild and looks of fondness and adoration were thrown directly at the boy. On the other hand, hearing his name, Gray flinched and buried his head further on Lucy’s neck.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just Mira. See?” she said, patting the boy’s head while gesturing to the fair-haired maiden by the bar, not realizing the eyes that trained them as they walked to the bar where Mira is. Gray lifted his head after noticing that they stopped and saw the never faltering smile of the woman he met yesterday.

“Mi-tan?” he whispered to Lucy.

The blonde was about to nod her head when Mira put her hand on her mouth and started squealing. “He called me ‘Mi-tan’, isn’t that cute?”

She immediately went to the fridge and took out a familiar dessert. She dug out two scoops of the sweet treat and proceeded to where the little boy was and placed it in front of him. “Ice cream for you~” she said.

Gray’s curious eyes focused on the dish in front of him and he practically drooled knowing what it is. Lucy on the other hand smiled and placed the boy on the counter.

“What are you waiting for?” she said and asked for some spoon from Mira, which the latter followed. She handed a teaspoon to him, to which she said was more appropriate for him.

Gray looked at Lucy and, when she smiled at him, his face brightened and grabbed the teaspoon from Mira. “Tenchuu (thank you), Mi-tan~” he smiled.

Mira’s heart melted and smiled back at him, “You’re welcome~”

“But don’t eat too much, kay?” she said added a bit too late, and never got answered.

Lucy placed her chin on her palms, elbows planted on the counter beside Gray, as she watched the boy eating merrily (sometimes looking up to her to smile, sometimes looking up to Mira to say something about the dessert which was always answered by the barmaid with much enthusiasm) with keenness on her chocolate-brown eyes. She was grateful that somehow Gray warmed up to Mira. Maybe Mira would take care of him for her?

She smiled, that would take a whole load of baggage off her back.

“Lucy!”

The blonde inclined her head to her left and saw Bisca, which reminded her that she needed to talk to her a lot…concerning Gray and ‘how to take care of kids’.

“Hey Lucy, having problems taking care of Gray?” another voice called out. The blonde turned her head to her right this time and saw Cana (who was with her boyfriend again, and by boyfriend I mean her booze), and answered her with a ‘no, not yet’ response.

“If you’re having any problems, you could always turn to us for help, okay?” Lucy looked past Cana’s shoulder to see Lisanna joining in the conversation. She smiled, knowing that she has her friends with her.

“Okay~!”

And then, one by one, people of the guild surrounded them, asking her about how Gray had been. One of them even teased her of her first night together with Gray, which she brushed off with a pout (and a blush she so much tried to hide). She doesn’t really like the sound of that. But then she smiled, thinking of what had happened last night.

Gray is such a cutesy, Lucy thought.

“Lucy~”

For the umpteenth time that day, she turned her head only to find Mira sweat dropping as she pointed something at the front of the blonde. Following her finger, Lucy found Gray on the verge of tears, making her go to panic mode.

“Wha-what is it?” she asked.

Gray looked at her and crawled his way to her lap, curling himself there as he clung on Lucy’s shirt. She promptly put her arms around him, concern evident on her features.

“What is it?” she repeated and Gray looked up to her.

“Gurei’s tummy awwie,” he answered.

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“Oh-oh…”

..ooOoo..

Chapter 10

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“Uhm, guys,” Lucy started while eyeing Gray, “remember what you told me earlier, that I could turn to you for help? Well, I kind of needed that now.”

She turned her head, only to find everyone dispersing― Bisca walked off to Asuka and Alzack, Cana was in the far end corner of the room in a flash, Lisanna was with her sister tending the customers, and all the others whistling and doing other stuff. Lucy felt a twitch of annoyance protruding her very being and sighed to calm herself. She looked at the boy on her lap and her eyes softened at the hurting Gray.

“Let’s get you to the toilet.”

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“London bwidge ish fallin’ down, fallin’ down, fallin’ down. London bwidge ish fallin’ down, my fair lady~”

Gray continued singing while Lucy stayed outside waiting for him to finish. When she agreed to take care of Gray, the thought of washing his ‘bum-bum’ (as Gray called it) never crossed her mind. Even if she’d changed his diapers two times now.

This is what you get for letting him eat too much ice cream! She mentally scolded herself and swear to never let him eat more than what he could take. Why she never realized Gray’s tummy would ache because of ice cream, she doesn’t know. Maybe she thought he’s an ice mage and that’s the kind of food he actually eats. Then again, he’s just a child. And from what she remembers, Gray learned his magic at the age of seven.

Sighing, Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I feel an upcoming headache…” she muttered.

“Finish~” she heard from inside the toilet.

The blonde sighed once again and, feeling something piercing at the back of her head, she looked back only to see her so-called ‘friends’ gesturing her ‘good luck’ with their hands.

“Wow, thanks for the support…” Lucy muttered sarcastically and sweat dropped.

She turned around and went inside to see Gray sitting on the toilet bowl grinning at her. Lucy can’t help but smile back.

“You should really thank me when you revert back to normal, Gray.”

..ooOoo..

Chapter 11

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A week passed by like a breeze. But still, only Lucy and Mira were the only ones that the raven-haired boy trusts. Sure, he never hides his face on Lucy’s neck anymore and sure, he never insisted on being carried anymore but those are the only things that changed.

He never played with anyone except for Lucy, Plue and Mira.

But he does ‘fight’ a lot with Natsu and Erza. Glaring at them until they get annoyed, calling them names like ‘Pinky-nii’ and ‘Kowaii-nee’, and showing them his tongue were three of the many others. Those kinds of ‘fights’. Of course Lucy would be there to smack Natsu on the head whenever he’s about to tackle the boy or saying things like ‘asshole’, ‘bastard’ or ‘brat’. And Gray would always snicker at the sight of the salmon-headed lad.

Then again, that’s not something to be surprised about.

Lucy sighed when Natsu and Gray are at it again― calling each other names such as ‘ice princess’, ‘Pinky’, ‘stripper’, ‘Pinky’, ‘snowcone’ or… err… ‘Pinky’ (you can’t blame him― Gray’s yet to be imaginative with words). While everyone else finds it amusing, Lucy on the other hand doesn’t and scolded Natsu to think about the consequences of saying those things to a child, which earned her a pout.

“He’s the one who started it,” he complained as he watched Lucy carry Gray in her arms.

“Yet you’re older and should know better,” she retaliated.

“Why are you always siding him? He’s done something to be scolded about, too, you know.”

Lucy paused. He does have a point. She thought. If she continued with this, Gray might grow being a spoiled brat.

The blonde sighed, disregarding Natsu’s comments when he thought she ignored him. She walked towards one of the guild’s many tables and placed Gray over it while she slid on the seat provided. Lucy sighed once again before looking Gray in the eye.

“Gray,” she called, “It’s wrong to fight with people older than you.”

The said boy looked at her and pursed his lips but Lucy continued. “And it’s wrong to call them names. His―” Lucy pointed at Natsu, “name is Natsu, not Pinky, okay? And she’s―” then her finger traveled to the redheaded teammate, “Erza.”

The boy remained quiet as he listened and glare at Natsu for having a stupid smirk playing along his lips. “But Pinky-nii started it,” Gray pouted and looked down that Lucy had to repeat herself.

“Look, Gray. I know why you’re being like this,” she said, earning Gray’s eyes, “you’re still mad at them for treating you bad, right?” she said pertaining the day that Natsu, Erza, and Happy went back from the job with Gray secured on a baby holder bag.

And Gray simply nodded, reluctantly.

Lucy sighed. “You know, forgiveness is one key to a healthy relationship― be it with family or friends (even lovers). And I know it’s hard, but you’ll see a positive output afterwards.”

Gray pouted even more. “They not say sowwy.”

And Lucy once again paused. Her head snapped at Natsu and Erza who both flinched at her gaze. “You two are at fault here, too. So say sorry and ask for forgiveness from Gray.”

“What?! No wa―ACK!” Natsu was about to protest but Erza pulled his ears towards Lucy and Gray before smiling.

“I’m sorry, Gray. I admit that we don’t know how to take care of a child and it’s the exact reason why we treated you like that. But even so, we should’ve known better and I ask you to forgive us for doing it. We never should’ve done what we did.” said Erza, earning her looks of shock and bewilderment from everyone present.

The redhead then looked at Natsu and urges him to do the same using her piercing gaze, but Natsu merely pouted and looked away before muttering a single word only Lucy, Erza and Gray could hear. “Sorry.”

Lucy smiled before turning her head to Gray to find him gazing at Erza and Natsu. He turned his whole body towards them and voiced out something Lucy was so proud of him about. “Sowwy, Erza-nee, Natsu-nii. Gurei fow-give you. Fow-give Gurei, too?”

Erza blushed and Natsu’s eyes widen before grinning at the raven-haired boy.

“Good boy,”

Gray turned his head to the side after hearing this and closes his eyes when he felt a hand patting his head tenderly. The moment he opened his eyes, he saw the blonde’s warm smile and he couldn’t help but cry.

“Uwaaaaah~!”

The cry surprises everyone. But Lucy understands him.

She took Gray’s frail form and cradled him on her lap, hugging him like a mother would. Lucy smiled while rocking Gray to and fro, whispering soothing words to calm the boy down.

“I’m not mad at you,” she simply said making everyone understand.

..ooOoo..

Chapter 12

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The double doors of Fairy Tail burst open that day and Gajeel and Juvia walked in with triumphant smiles on their faces. A week and a half ago, when Natsu, Erza, Happy and Gray are still out on a mission, Juvia was always gloomily entering the guild, missing her dear Gray-sama. Noticing this, Mira asked Gajeel to go on a mission with the water mage to get herself out of her boredom and take her mind off of the thoughts of Gray, Gray and Gray― it was really a good thing that they’ve won the Grand Magic Tournament to have jobs and requests sent to them with large rewards.

And now, seeing their proud smiles, everyone concluded that the mission went on successfully.

“Gray-sama, Juvia is back~” the water mage chimed, with animated hearts and flowers glimmering around her. She looked around, surveying the area for a certain raven haired, ice make mage. Realizing that he’s not in the vicinity, the hearts and flowers vanished and were replaced by gloom lines.

Gajeel sighed and rolled his eyes at his friend and strides towards the bar, yelling his order of some refreshments and food (iron foods, which was served especially for Gajeel). Juvia followed him, thinking that there’s nothing else she could do.

As she sat beside the iron dragon slayer, she was surprised to see Lisanna tending them and not Mira Jane or Kinana. And, hoping that the short, white haired girl knows her dearest loved one’s whereabouts, she asked, “Does Lisanna know where Gray-sama is?”

Upon hearing the ice mage’s name, Lisanna stiffened, as her hand suspended halfway from placing Gajeel’s orders in front of him. She doesn’t want to be the one to break the news to Juvia. God only knows what she’ll do to Natsu…and probably to Lucy if she learned that Gray’s been living with her. Well, not that Lucy wanted that to happen, but still, the water mage might get the wrong idea. She is Juvia after all.

Juvia’s eyes turned into slits as her suspicion against Lisanna rose.

“Is Lisanna hiding Gray-sama to herself?”

“Wha?!”

To say that Lisanna was stunned was an utter understatement. As expected of Juvia…and her never faltering suspicion to every living woman in the guild, considering every single one of them as rivals in love.

The youngest takeover mage sighed and placed Gajeel’s order in front of him. “Juvia, I don’t like Gray like that.” Lisanna announces as her light blue orbs gazes at Juvia’s pools of dark blue. The rain woman’s eyes softened as if believing her friend’s words, but traces of doubt could still be seen. “Then, where is Gray-sama? Is he and his team still on their mission?”

“No, he’s actually in the infirmary right now.”

Juvia eyes bulged out of her sockets in shock, “Is Gray-sama hurt?”

“No, but he’s―”

The water mage didn’t wait for her explanation. She stood up immediately, making Gajeel choke on his meal, and ran upstairs towards the infirmary as panic and anxiousness took over her whole being.

“Wait! Juvia, there’s something you have to know first―” was the last thing that the water mage heard before her hearing was clouded by concern and trepidation.

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“Gray-sama!”

Juvia burst the door open with all her might, startling a little boy awake. The blue haired mage looked around for her loved one but only saw a disconcerted boy, who looked a lot like Gray, sitting up on bed.

The rain woman felt a twitch of annoyance. “Juvia didn’t know that Lisanna could trick her like that.” she muttered and closed the door with as much force as she did when opening it.

She immediately ran back down and stomped her way towards the bar with a menacing aura around her, making the people she passed by shiver in fear. As she got to the bar, Juvia slammed her fist on the counter, making Gajeel choke once again.

“Is Lisanna playing games with Juvia?” she asked, eyes narrowing by the second.

Lisanna was surprised again. Didn’t she saw Gray inside? She asked herself inwardly.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” the short fair haired girl stuttered.

“Juvia didn’t see Gray-sama inside the infirmary,” Juvia answered, “She only found a boy that looked like Gray-sama.”

Lisanna’s heart beats faster she could hear it in her ears. A bead of sweat started trickling down the side of her face as she weighs her options.

Should she tell Juvia? Or let Natsu or Lucy explain things and stay quiet? Then how could she get out of her current situation if she doesn’t tell her anything? How would she explain the boy she found on the infirmary?

There are so many things to think about and the pressure is so hard to handle. Looking at Juvia only makes it harder.

Gulping the lump on her throat, Lisanna decided to tell her. She’ll freak out either way, anyway.

“Well?” Juvia said, obviously getting impatient. The whole room was silent, the only sound that reverberated their ears are the laughs inside the guild’s kitchen. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, waiting what will come out of Juvia and Lisanna’s conversation.

“Uhm, Juvia, I-I hate to break this to you but,” Lisanna started. She sighed once more before looking at Juvia straight in the eye, determination reflected in her light blue orbs. “That boy you saw inside the infirmary…”

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“That boy is Gray.”

..ooOoo..

Chapter 13

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Juvia ran upstairs once again, wanting to get another glimpse of the child inside. It’s true that the boy looked so much like Gray, but it didn’t cross her mind that he would actually be the Gray she fell in love with.

Of course she didn’t believe Lisanna. She needs proof to see if he’s Gray.

“Why don’t you see for yourself if he really is Gray. Look for the guild’s insignia on his chest.”

Is what Lisanna said.

So she ran and burst the door open, for the second time, as she got there. The boy inside gasped and backed away towards the bed’s headboard, taking his blanket with him as he tried to cover his body with it, leaving his eyes uncovered.

Juvia panted and closed the door behind her. Dark ocean blue eyes turned into slits as she searched for her dear Gray-sama on the dark blue orbs of the child.

The child whimpered as he saw the lady walking towards him like a predator hunting its prey. She grabbed the end of the blanket in an attempt to yank it off, but before she could do that, the child screamed something she couldn’t understand.

“LU-TAAAAAAAAN!”

The scream was so loud that she jerked her body towards the wall opposite the child. And before she knows what’s happening, the door burst open revealing the blonde guild mate she considered her greatest rival of all marching― rather, frantically running towards the boy.

“Gray,” she said and took ‘Gray’ in her arms, “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

‘Gray’ didn’t answer. Instead, he immediately hid his head on the crook of the blonde’s neck and clutched her shirt, without her minding it. He wailed and Lucy had to pat his back soothingly to calm him down.

Juvia was surprised to say the least. Not only did Lisanna thought the boy was Gray, but Lucy had to join her confusion, too. More so, if the child really is Gray, what is Lucy doing, holding Gray as if that’s her initial reaction when Gray called―

The blue haired water mage’s eyes widen. If the child is really Gray-sama, why did he call Love Rival’s name?

Her hammering heart was then accompanied by an intense pounding of her brain as thoughts and confusion cross her mind. What is happening?

As Lucy was comforting the child, her eyes caught on something on her peripheral vision. Turning her head, her brown eyes widen with the sight of Juvia’s own stunned face.

“Lucy, is everything―?”

Mira stopped mid-sentence as she felt the awkward atmosphere brewing inside the room. But thankfully, the blonde heard her and whipped her head to where she stands.

Deciding this is a perfect timing of getting Gray out of the room for her and Juvia to have a ‘talk’, Lucy beckoned Mira inside, which the latter instantly did once understanding the blonde’s intension. The fair headed maiden then placed her hands on Gray’s sides in an attempt to take him in her arms but the boy’s grasp on Lucy only tightened.

“Gray, please go with Mira for now,” Lucy asked but Gray only shook his head as he continued crying.

“Lu-tan just needs to talk to nee-san over there,” she added, gesturing to the blue headed girl, back still perched on the wall. But still, Gray shook his head stubbornly.

Lucy sighed before sitting on the bed Gray were once sleeping in and gently remove his tight grip from her shirt. She pulled Gray away slightly for her to see his face which was damped with tears with his still trembling lips. Her eyes softened more, realizing how scared he is and concluded that Juvia must’ve frightened him some way or another.

The blonde patted his head and wiped his tears before smiling softly, “Lu-tan is sorry for not being here when you wake up.”

Gray sniffed, “Where Lu-tan go?”

[jaskiersvalley]

Witchers didn't have daemons, that was a known fact. They were terrifying in their solitude, unfeeling and unaffected. Monsters made to fight monsters, they didn't need part of their soul for that. What the general public didn't know though was that the daemons weren't imprisoned somewhere, nor were they dead. The mages had figured out a way to separate daemon from child and force it into the most unnatural of shapes, another human. It meant two Witchers from a single child and the best part was, neither child nor daemon felt any connection to their counterpart once the process of the trials was complete.

In an effort to make sure full separation was certain and not even a sentimental link remained, daemons and children were separated and trained in different schools. Lambert had arrived at Kaer Morhen, still tripping over unfamiliar human feet and seething at being separated from his human. Over the years he tried to remember his human but, like all Witchers, they were given new names when they got their medallions and Lambert didn't think Luca still went by that name, nor would he be the scrawny kid Lambert remembered him as.

Whenever Lambert met another Witcher, he couldn't help but wonder whether it was his Luca that he was meeting. Though he wanted to believe that there would be a spark some kind of recognition there. He had been a little relieved when he met Letho and there was nothing there between them.

Of course Geralt had to be the first one to find his daemon. The smug bastard had found a bard who told people his daemon was a flea which was just like him; unnoticeable until he causes a nuisance. Most pitied him but Geralt had seen through the charade. He watched the bard without a daemon, curiosity and caution allowed him to permit Jaskier to tag along. The story tumbled out eventually.

"My great grandparents bought me. I was some kind of freak novelty some merchants were selling."

That was all Geralt had needed to hear and he was all but dragging Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in the winter. Nobody had expected Vesemir's face to close off completely.

"I remember you!" Jaskier said in way of greeting. "You were a dick."

"Julian." The reply was terse and tight.

Lambert got a front view seat to seeing Geralt's face flit through more emotions in one second than he usually did in a whole year. The embrace was tight, Geralt's nose buried in Jaskier's hair.

Jealousy trickled through Lambert's veins. For all he knew, his human was already a dead Witcher. There was no link between Witcher and daemon, the trials severed it all completely so when one died, the other didn't even notice, let alone die from it.

"Why isn't he a Witcher?" Eskel asked, eyes glued to the happy reunion.

"Kaer Morhen needed money. Your cohort, the daemons didn't become Witchers. We sold them to the highest bigger."

Lambert didn't expect Eskel to punch Vesemir across the jaw but he was sure as shit glad he saw it. It meant he didn't need to do it on behalf of Geralt and Eskel. For the first time though, Lambert had an optimistic thought.

"It might mean he's living a happy life somewhere. I mean, look at Jaskier. He's had it better than us."

That was a topic that came up repeatedly over the next few weeks. They dreamed up all sorts of fancy lives Eskel's daemon could have lived, the wonders he would have seen. Through it all, Lambert bitterly wished his daemon could have been anything but a Witcher. Alas, Vesemir rapidly disillusioned him from that idea.

"He's become a Witcher, probably dead by now. And if you met him, you'd probably wish he was."

"Is that so?" Lambert drawled, emptying his tankard with a disappointed sigh. He couldn't believe it was empty again.

"You suffered the same shit fate I did. Your human was trained by Cats. Guxart turned into an utter dick."

The words were muttered darkly and Lambert tried not to take it to heart how much hatred Vesemir oozed. It made him all that much more determined to not go the same way as the bitter old man. Instead, he turned to Geralt with a leer. "So, is it gay or is it masturbation to want to get off with your own daemon?"

To say the table erupted in uproar was an understatement. Geralt was scowling somewhat fierce, arms crossed over his chest in protest. It only egged Lambert on further.

"I think it's incest," he declared with a shit eating grin. "Technically it's part of your family because you have the same parents."

"It's masturbation at most." Geralt was growling and glowering. "Because the daemon was still part of you."

Through it all, Eskel stayed rather quiet. It was only when the other two looked to him for opinion that he leaned forward, propping himself up on the table with a serious crease to his brows.

"I think-" the words were low and measured, "-that as long as everyone involved consents, it's fucking hot is what it is."

"The only thing it is," Vesemir finally butted in, "is a disaster waiting to happen. You don't want to meet your counterparts. Trust me."

Except that only made Lambert all the more keen. He wanted to both prove Vesemir wrong and also have what Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be hurtling towards. So, come spring, he set out with the intent of fulfilling one contract only. It was one that he would pay himself for in emotional fulfilment. He was going to find every Cat he could until he found Luca.

He met Gaetan along his travels who laughed in his face and said he was much more into snakes than wolves. That was an encounter Lambert was more than eager to cut short because he did not want to think about how Letho and Gaetan were oddly complementary. It was also another jolt of bitter jealousy, another Witcher and daemon had been reunited while he was still out there looking for his own. Assuming Luca had survived.

Meeting Guxart was a bit of an accident and Lambert wished he'd not encountered the old Cat. He growled and hissed about his stupid daemon who would probably have turned into a useless pigeon if left alone. There was obviously no love lost between them and Lambert desperately hoped he wasn't going to have the same fate.

Third time lucky, as the saying went. Lambert had trailed the new Cat for a few days, learning his habits and watching him work. There was no ounce of recognition or familiarity. But then again, the last time Lambert saw Luca, they were being dragged away from each other, foreign hands on his rapidly shifting body so his eyes could barely adjust enough to see the screaming, tear filled face of his human. It was quite possibly the worst last image he could have had of Luca.

Satisfied that the Cat wasn't someone Lambert wouldn't want to associate with, he approached in the evening when the campfire was still bright but slowly settling.

"I was wondering when my shadow would make himself known," the Cat said easily enough, barely glancing up from where he was whittling something.

The last two times Lambert had tried to be careful with exploring the idea of the Cat Witcher being his human. He was tired and cut straight to the point.

"Luca?"

By the fire the man froze. It was only luck that meant Lambert could hear the shuddering exhales of someone trying to keep up the façade of calm and collected. Finally, the man set his carving aside and stood with an easy smile that felt like a thousand lies.

"I go by Aiden." It wasn't a reply and Lambert knew it.

"I don't remember my name," he admitted softly, desperately hoping he wasn't about to make an utter tit of himself. "People call me Lambert. But I'm looking for my Luca."

He didn't expect to suddenly have an armful of Witcher clinging to him like their very lives depended on it.

"It's really you!" Aiden sounded close to tears. "You never did have a single name, usually going by Idiot, Pain In The Butt, Menace and so many other equally flattering names."

"Guess that never changed," Lambert laughed wetly. He held Aiden close, wishing he could feel as he used to when they were connected. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

It was just that start of something Lambert never thought he'd have. Easy companionship, shared disdain for the whole Witcher thing, stories upon stories of contracts gone well, gone wrong, or just plain gone. By the time winter rolled round, Lambert was firmly of the opinion that he and Aiden would travel together, fuck the Path and all the teachings about it being lonely. If Geralt could have his bard then they sure as hell could have each other.

Getting to Kaer Morhen, Lambert gleefully had an arm slung around Aiden's shoulder, introducing him to the rest of his family. He especially delighted in the flaring of Vesemir's nostrils as he took in the situation.

"Cats and Wolves don't mix. You of all people should know that."

"And you should know it's my life's mission to prove you wrong, old man," Lambert shot back.

Perhaps the most curious part of the whole winter was that Geralt was already back with not one, but two guests. Jaskier was a known quantity and Lambert greeted him warmly. The other though was a near silent man who watched them through eyes that looked way too old for his body.

"This is Cahir," Geralt said when the man didn't even introduce himself. "We'd heard rumours of a Nilfgaardian without a daemon and went to investigate."

"Not a Nilfgaardian," Cahir grumbled with a half-hearted glare.

It took Lambert a moment to figure out just why Geralt would bring such a man back before his eyes widened in delighted realisation.

"You think that-"

"Mhm."

That was the extent of their conversation because Lambert was cackling in delight. He looked Cahir over with a newfound interest. Young, like Jaskier but so very different in behaviour. As much as they'd wondered about Eskel's daemon's fate, this wasn't one they'd predicted.

Three days later Eskel was leading Scorpion into Kaer Morhen's courtyard. Lambert and Aiden were all but bouncing with excitement, not wanting to miss the moment Eskel met his daemon. In their opinion Geralt was drawing things out and making it less fun by not having them all meet in the stables. Instead, Eskel was allowed to venture into the kitchen in the company of Lambert and Aiden who were vibrating in anticipation.

"Eskel," Geralt greeted him with a warm hug. Jaskier and Cahir were behind him, even Vesemir had ventured out to see what the outcome would be. "It's good to have you home. Allow me to introduce you to Cahir."

The two looked at each other with guarded gazes and Eskel gave a terse nod. It was as anticlimactic as fuck. No recognition, not interest, nothing. Just a slow once over which, if Lambert had thought about it, was pretty much a mirror image of each other, equally considering and closed off.

Despondent, he dragged Aiden off, helping lay the table for a shared meal. Vesemir was quick to follow, there was no way to tell whether he was disappointed or relieved by the lack of drama. Geralt and Jaskier wandered out, oddly deflated. Not two seconds later there was an almighty crash from the kitchen and they were all racing back. Only to turn right around and flee after a glimpse of Cahir pinning Eskel to a wall and kissing him like Eskel was the last gasp of air for a drowning man.

"So, are they?" Jaskier asked, glancing towards the kitchen. Something else crashed and thumped but it was best not to investigate.

After a moment it was Vesemir who tiredly said, "Does it matter? It doesn't seem like they much care."

All in all, Lambert didn't think he cared either. Cahir and Eskel seemed happy enough in their new acquaintanceship, trying to figure out their past could wait, if they even wanted to explore it. Though Lambert had a hard time imagining Cahir as a goat. Over the years he'd heard Eskel lament enough about how his daemon preferred to take the form of a goat.

Regret came the next morning at breakfast when Eskel and Cahir appeared at the table, seemingly indifferent. If the rest of them hadn't see the two almost violently making out in the kitchen before disappearing to a bedroom, they wouldn't have guessed anything had gone on between them.

"Hey Geralt," Eskel called, face passive. "You know the difference between a goldfish and a mountain goat?"

"A mountain goat could live in Kaer Morhen but a goldfish couldn't?"

Eskel rolled his eyes. "No, a goldfish mucks around a fountain."

"And a mountain goat fucks around a mountain," Cahir finished the joke. He and Eskel high fived without looking at each other. Lambert only smacked his head on the table when Cahir continued, "And I am no goldfish."

[elhnrt]

i’m going to play coc2 as tobirama

that’s a good start so far, but everything seems too easy

this is more backstory than kishimoto gave him which i have to say. big L on his part. at least the virginity is accurate.

tbrm starts his adventure in a tavern amidst a winter chill. a catgirl damsel in distress tumbles into the tavern, screaming, sick from the cold. tbrm chooses to investigate the matter and she collapses in his arms. the gruff bartender and tbrm take her somewhere safer and tbrm mends her injuries with healing magic. she relays the sordid tale of waking up to find her younger sister missing. tbrm agrees to lend his help and they head eastward.

now is not the FUCKING TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh apparently coc2 has actual like turn based combat now and isn’t about orc pussy. that’s awesome

this ISN’T WHAT I CAME HERE FOR!!!!! RIP ADOBE FLASH PLAYER...... DIED GIVING BIRTH TO THIS

anyway tobirama is exsanguinating. cait the catgirl and tbrm won the duel with only flesh wounds. so far

you furries are soooo annoying all you do is talk about cock and cum. throw some spears if you’re serious about your fuck cult

now tbrm and his pink haired nekomimi companion are not only being killed by a slutty furry mage but tbrm’s sensory capabilities are so powerful he can sense horny levels like video game stats. this really paints ‘most powerful sensor’ into a new light. why haven’t fic writers gotten on this train? i think that would be funny.

heterosexuality beam launched at tbrm!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!UCHIHA ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

alright, somehow tbrm and cait won that disaster of a fight. cats always land on their feet i suppose. the fleeing cultists left behind several vials of blue and pink potions. tbrm has the option to take one. i think i will have him take the pink potion in case it makes his nipples explode.

actually cait i have no idea what the fuck you’re supposed to do with those. so tbrm took a blue potion as well. as you can imagine, someone drew a cock on it.

to my absolute lack of shock and surprise there is a fight scene with some bald dude who looks like lucien lachance and ren from ren and stimpy spawned something. this fight is going to be so annoying i can tell. i’ve played skyrim.

okay now this is epic

so i think i defeated ren lachance at like, the very last minute, and now tbrm is awake after basically passing out from blood loss. he’s still in the ruined temple, but he’s not alone...

thanks for specifying the cat dick but not immediately mentioning the fact that a four winged fat cocked demon leaking titty milk is standing over him. don’t worry, that description takes up a whole page after this.

sighs very fucking deeply

VERY..... fucking deeply....

great fucking question tobirama. what now? well as much as i would love to find out i don’t think i want to risk anymore possible encounters of getting tbrm’s soul yanked out through his cock. maybe next time when i remember this game exists.

[playwright-fate]

give me comfort, give me edge

Anders/f!Hawke (Valia Hawke)

1435 words

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries

fluff

Hawke asks Anders to move in. Her timing is a little weird though.

READ IT ON AO3

“It hurts,” Valia groaned as he eased her down on the cold, hard floor of her hallway.

Oranna and Bodahn hurried towards them as they heard the door bursting open. She, let out a shriek at the view of Hawke’s bloodied body. Bodahn, swore. “Messere! What happened?”

“A Coterie ambush as we were coming home.” Anders had carried her away from the fight, which had erupted a few streets from there. Her friends were probably still fighting out there as he had brought her to safety.

She was severely wounded.

Anders sent Oranna and Bodahn looking for poultices and water basins and then kneeled down next to her, roaming his hands above her to check for all the injuries he could not see. She had been thrown against a wall by a mage. Among other things.

“It fucking hurts,” she groaned again.

“I know, love. Hang on. It will get better, I promise.”

Her eyes were starting to close. “Sleep. I wanna sleep,”

He jerked her awake with his magic. “Don’t.”

“Hey stop!” she cried out in surprise. She hated when he did that. The sensation was irking. “That’s not fair. Lemme sleep…” She tried to push away his hands but could barely move her arm.

“No, I can’t let you do that. You have to stay with me.” Her pulse was weakening. “Focus, Hawke. Sleeping is bad right now. It’s very bad.”

“Of course you’re the one saying that.”

“What do you mean?” He said distractedly, anything to keep her talking and not passing out. If she lost consciousness now, he wasn’t sure he would be able to bring her back.

“You never sleep.”

“That’s not true. I slept here yesterday. And I’ll stay and sleep here tonight if you behave.”

She snorted but hissed right after. The pain came in waves, and sometimes it was almost unbearable. And her eyelids were so very heavy. Sleeping felt like such a good idea right now. “Can’t stay awake,” she mumbled as her eyes closed again, “just a minute, Anders.”

He used the same magic trick as before, and she grunted loudly. “Maker’s balls, you’re annoying.”

“I’m keeping you alive, that’s what I am. You have to stay with me, love.” He cupped her face. His hands shook. “Please.” The adrenalin of the fight was wearing out and all the focus it gave him with it. Now he felt drained and afraid, the idea of Hawke dying poisoning his thoughts, which should have only been focused on healing her wounds. It distracted him. Slowed him down.

She must have caught something in his eyes then as she softened slightly under his gaze. “Ok, ok. You win, I’ll try. Tell me a story.”

“When you want to fall asleep? No way.” The hand focusing back on her chest found a punctured lung, the one on her abdomen found a worrying gash in her small intestine. He had to work quickly to stop the bleeding and cauterise and heal everything. She was losing too much blood and her breathing was shallower by the minute. “You tell me a story.”

She threw him the most annoyed stare she could muster. It probably looked more like a strange kind of smoldering look as her eyes kept trying to close.

“You’re kidding me, right?” she rasped, wincing with pain, “everything freaking hurts. I can’t talk. You talk.”

“You’re doing very well right now.”

There was a moment of silence and he almost used his magic again to make sure she wasn’t falling asleep, but she stopped him with a weak push of her right arm. “Hey! Don’t! I’m here, I’m here. I hate that trick. It makes my bones buzz. It hurts.”

“Sorry, love. I had to.”

A small silence again. He looked at her face. Her eyes were half-open, but he could see she was looking at him.

“You said you’d stay…” she breathed.

“I will.”

“But did you mean… sleep here or sleep here,” she tried to say it with a smirk but the result was probably terrible. Not to mention her attempt to wiggle her brows, which was so invisible that Anders entirely missed it.

He shot her an incredulous glare. “You’re emptying your blood on my hands and you’re asking me about having sex tonight?”

She tried to nod.

“Maker’s Breath, Hawke, you’re impossible.” He shook his head. “Believe me, the most action you’ll get tonight if I can heal you properly by then is a bath and a good night’s sleep. And that’s the best-case scenario for you right now," he warned her, "you won’t be able to do much more than this tonight. Nor any night in the near future,” he added quickly as he saw her about to say something.

“Is that a challenge?”

“No. You’re almost half-dead, Hawke.”

“Well, that’s probably the rudest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And mind you, I’ve heard a lot of rude things in my life. Plus it still means I’m almost half alive, right?” She tried to say it with a grin, but it only made her cough. She could now barely speak without gasping for air, a rasp accompanying her every word.

But Anders still chuckled at that, his tension easing a little. She was still there, she was still talking nonsense. That was a good sign. Or so he hoped. He had to do something about that lung real quick, though.

“So. You’ll–you’ll take the bath with me at least?”

“And bathe in your blood? No. I’ll clean your wounds, love. Then put you to bed.”

“You’re no fun.”

It seemed to him than her tone and voice were getting weaker. “No, I told you before, the only thing I am tonight is keeping you alive.”

“That joke sucks.”

“Good, because it’s not a joke.”

There was a pause again. She sighed in pain when he added more pressure on her abdomen.

“And you’ll come to bed with me?”

“Yes. To sleep.”

Another pause.

“Hmm, that’s good too.”

Her voice was barely audible now. Anders turned to her in alarm. Her eyes were closed again.  He shook her, but she only grunted feebly in response.

Maker, he was losing her!

“Hawke!” He shook her again, maybe a bit too strongly this time, but she remained unresponsive. “Valia!”

There was a slight spasm. Her eyelids quivered. “Hmm, you’ll stay in the morning then?” She murmured weakly, half coming back under his frantic gaze.

In his panic, he had forgotten about her last words. “What?!”

“Will–will you stay in the morning?”

“Of course I’ll stay. But you stay with me now.”

“Last time… last time you didn’t stay.”

Something clenched deep inside him. “And… and you’d like me to stay?” That really wasn’t the time to discuss this.

“Yes,” she breathed, “You can stay all the time. I would like you to stay all the time.”

 A home. He would have a real home. He could have a real home. With her.

“Hawke,” his voice wavered a little as her eyes were slowly opening again, as he saw her trying to fight the deceptive lull of sleep, “are you–are you emptying your blood on my hands, propositioning me,” he inhaled deeply, “and asking me to move in all in one night?”

 This will be a disaster.

Her nod was almost imperceptible. “We could take a cat. I’m sure Byron would get used to him quickly.”

Anders chuckled. Her eyes had a glassiness he did not like. He should be scrambling to heal her. But his thoughts were all over the place. “You don’t even like cats.”

“Not true. Never had one, that’s all. We could call him Ser Pounce-A-Little. In tribute as much as in hopeful prayer. Less mischief, maybe.”

He shook his head, looking at her fondly. “Would you tell the world, the knight-commander, that you love an apostate and you will stand beside him?”

 This will be a disaster.

“Do you want me to go write it with my own blood on her doorstep? Help me up.”

Anders laughed this time, and he cradled her face and kissed her bloody mouth, right here and then before resting his forehead against hers, forgetting everything for a moment. Even the idea of death.

She gave him a weak, wicked smile in response. “If that’s how you treat all your patients, you can stay at the clinic though.”

It was surreal to feel so happy and afraid at the same time. She might die. They might live together.

He smiled back and went back to tending to her wounds. “I’ll move in, then.”

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Cullen x Trevelyan

Rating: T

Word Count: 1226

AO3

Summary:

There’s been a string of violent murders in Skyhold. Cullen and the Inquisitor devise a plan to trap the killer. But not all is as it seems.

Night had come. The sky sparkled radiantly, unaffected by the chill that had settled into the very depths of the earth. I pulled my coat tight, forcing out the claws of late autumn sinking into my skin, permeating my very breath. Hurrying along the battlements, I hid myself in the shadows until I reached the Commander’s door. I knocked once and he responded with a rap against his desk. It was our custom to meet in this way as he was not yet ready to announce our—comradeship.

I opened the door to a warm room lit with dim candle glow and a smile more radiant than the stars.

“Inquisitor”, he breathed.

“You know I don’t like when you call me that.” I went to him and brushed his lips with a kiss. With the fondest touch, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“And I don’t like when you come to me this late at night. It’s dangerous.”

“Ah yes, the strange mysterious murders,” I said drily.

“There’s been more.”

“Really?” I sat on the edge of his desk, picking up some reports he’d received.

He gestured to the papers in my hand. “See for yourself.”

And so I did.

Commander,

I am afraid to report there has been two more incidents just like before. Templars. Burned and slain like Andraste. But I noticed one other strange thing. The body discovered today, appeared to have red markings around their neck, as if strangled. I will continue the investigation and report back shortly.

Signed,

Captain Bearns

I set the report down and glanced back at Cullen as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand then proceeded to rub at his neck.

“It worries me. These murders have been getting gruesome and if we don’t get a handle on them, word may leave Skyhold and we’ll have a disaster on our hands. Our reputation is dubious at best already.”

“Pish posh,” I replied. “Who cares about our reputation? Besides what’s it matter if a few dead templars pop up. It’s not like anyone is going to miss them.” I traced my thumb along his desk.

“Maybe they don’t matter to you, which I understand considering their background and your own, but they are still members of the Inquistion. This matter should not be ignored.”

His face grew red as he talked, veins nearly popping out of his neck. He looked so distraught yet so endearing. I wandered over to him, curling my fingers up in the fur of his cloak as I looked up at him.

“You’re right, Cullen. These murders shouldn’t be ignored. Perhaps you and I could do some digging of our own?” I relinquished my grasp to smooth the fur back in place and clasped his hands instead. His hands were cold and clammy so I gifted him with a little warmth.

He shook his head vehemently. “No. That’s ridiculous. Of all the people wandering the grounds at night it should not be you.”

“Please,” I begged. I pushed out my lower lip like an irresistible pup.

“No, Bea. Absolutely not.”

“But what if we happened to find the killer? What if all this time we just needed to lie in wait and let them come to us?”

“Finding the killer isn’t worth risking your life.”

I sighed. “Cullen, do you forget that I am a mage? I have self defense at my fingertips. I’ve survived the events of the mage revolution when my tower fell. I survived facing a mad Tevinter magister who threw me into the future and also survived wallowing through a swamp of undead. I’m fairly certain I can protect myself against one person.”

“Don’t you see? That’s exactly what worries me. You have survived enough. I don’t know if it’s some sort of luck or maybe Andraste truly watches over you but what if, at some point, your luck runs out? Throwing you directly into the face of danger once again seems foolish.”

“Cullen—“

“Regardless of how I feel, we’re not even certain it’s only one person. For all we know it could be an organized group of mages, seeking to send the templars a message.” He released my hands and turned away to rifle through the reports.

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re speaking out of turn, relying on your prejudices against mages again. Maybe it’s not related to mages at all.”

He sighed as he swiveled to face me, an older report in his hand. “But they were each of them burned.”

“Cullen. That’s hardly fair. Anyone can make fire. It’s not just mages.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “You’re probably right.”

I went to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “About which part? The mages or finding the killer ourselves?”

“Both, I suppose. However, if—and I said if—we were to try and discover this killer, we need a plan.”

“Very well, let's make a plan then,” I said, plucking the report out of his hand and throwing it towards his desk. It fluttered to the floor as he began devising a plan of being the templar bait which I protested against.

“You’re not even a part of the Templar Order anymore,” I said.

“Technically those men were no longer templars as well, since you disbanded the entire order.”

I gave him a deprecating look but gestured for him to continue his plan.

He enthusiastically expounded on the details. We’d stake out a spot hidden in shadows near the ex-templar barracks and Cullen would walk one hundred yards away so that he would still be within my eyesight. If anything bad went down, then I could cast a spell and disarm the killer and they’d be caught red handed.

I nodded my agreement.

“Good, let's go shall we?” He offered his arm and grabbed a candleholder.

“Cullen, I can provide the light.” With that I summoned a blue flame that danced in the palm of my hand. It cast an eerie but illuminating light on the floor.

“Right,” he said while replacing the candle holder.

With his hand on the door, a loud rapping startled us both. We exchanged a baffled look.

“Commander!” said a gruff voice from behind the door. “We found a clue by the latest body that you’ll want to see.”

Cullen opened the door to a young recruit wringing his hands together. He gazed at the Commander then glimpsed at me before focusing back on the Commander. “I’m—I'm sorry to disturb you but I wanted to show you something before—before—“

I listened intently, leaning forward on my toes, eager to hear what the man had to say.

“Well—um— here’s this.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin hung on a chain.

“That’s my—“ Cullen’s eyes widened with the realization. He snatched the necklace from the man’s grasp. “Do not speak of this to anyone until this gets sorted properly.”

The young recruit nodded, saluted, and promptly turned away, disappearing into the night. Cullen turned to look at me, his face paler than the moonlight shining down on us.

That necklace was not only his, it had been a gift to me.

“Oops,” I said.

And he looked so frightened, like he was staring at death herself and I wanted—needed to reassure him. “You were never in any danger from me,” I said with my sweetest smile.

[ffxiv-angora]

Day 31: Yearning

“So...can I ask you a question?”

Angora does her best to hold back the sigh she so desperately wanted to let out. Instead, she just took a long, slow drink from the cup of coffee she had.

“That depends on the question. If you’re here to ask about odd magic again-”

“Nonono! It’s not that! Promise.” Shria plops down on the couch beside the mage. This was not the first time the au ra had suddenly appeared in the library with all sorts of questions. Angora doesn’t even know what she had done that had put it in Shria’s head that coming to her for questions would solve all her issues. The girl wasn’t a child, but she certainly had the curiosity of one.

“How do you find love?”

Angora about spat out her drink. Wasn’t this a question for, oh I don’t know, her mother?? Why in the world had she come here? The sheepish look on Shria’s face made it clear that this question was 100% serious. It’s not like Angora herself was all that great of an example of finding love seeing as all her past partners were either dead or missing.

Shria lowers her head. “You know...finding someone! Most of my siblings have partners. My mother has had many as well including the like...three she has now! And you have Li’xala-”

Angora made the mistake of trying to take another sip because this time she did spit out her drink. “Excuse me??”

Shria continues without even acknowledging the shade of red that Angora’s face had become. “I’ve just...I’ve never found someone like that before! I’m not jealous or anything like that. It just seems like it’d be nice. Especially now that I’m older and not around my family as much. And don’t get me wrong, my animals are great company.” She frowns, idly picking at the scales on the top of her hand. “I don’t know. That kind of happiness seems so different from what I normally experience. I don’t want to be all alone forever. Maybe...maybe I don’t have a someone out there? Or I’m not good enough?”

“I’ll stop you there. There’s no need to be that dramatic.”

“Eh?”

The only warning Shria gets that Angora has started to move is the soft clink of her cup being set down on the floor. Next thing she knows, the mage has scooted close enough to hold the girl’s face in her hands.

“I’ll have no talk like that. You are far too young to be thinking like that about partners and love of all things.”

“I’m 22 cycles-” Shria is cut off by Angora squishing her cheeks much like she’d done to her older brother countless times.

“I’m not finished. You are a beautiful and kind young girl. You are more than good enough for plenty of people out there. Maybe even too good depending on the person. Your siblings have quite a few cycles headstart on the whole...love situation. Even your mother has a solid 30 cycles on you for god sake.” She lets up on the cheek squishing just a bit. “Things like love will come in time. It also won’t always be perfect the first time. You’ve got so much life still ahead of you to find someone who makes you happy. I can understand why you might want to hurry and pursue such things. Just...don’t try to force it too quickly. That will only lead to disaster. Just ask your brother.” It’s only when she pulls her hands away that she notices that Shria is staring at her all teary-eyes. Angora blinks.

“Did...D-Did I say something wrong?” Just how bad was she at this whole advice thing?

“N-No! You didn’t. I’m sorry. You’re just...really nice. You’d make a good mom.”

Angora snorts and rolls her eyes, picking her cup back up so she could sink into the couch. “Absolutely not. I’d pity any child who was stuck with me as their caretaker.”

Shira sniffles, rubbing the tears from her eyes with her arm before turning to face the fireplace. An awkward silence falls between the two of them. Angora slowly raises a brow and watches the girl start to rock and get restless. Eventually, Shria is the one to break the silence.

“So when are you and Li’xala going to-”

“Get out.”

[englass]

Hello ❤ hope you have a nice day 💖 can i request #14 from the dark prompts please?

Heya hun!!! Honestly, the day has been hot, but we push on. I hope your day has been good!! 💖 Hope you don't mind, but I went for a Fantasy AU for this one; I was super struggling with the prompt and the only thing I could think of was, "oooh, John as a mage..." so we kinda get that. The whole thing is more set up then anything else, but I didn't want to delete anything...

14. “You’re too sweet, darling. What type of monster would I be without you?”

- - -

There had been tales, whispers amongst the women and men of people going missing; of them being snatched off darkened paths and empty roads. Some reckoned it was a beast, spoke of a monster that was stealing people away to fuel their wicked appetite. Others thought it to be bandits, or other unscrupulous groups looking to profit off of the lives of inconspicuous civilians. But there were a handful, the few like yourself, that felt the shift in the air; that could feel the remnants of something foul and forbidden coiled around the scenes.

It had worried you greatly, the thought of such dark magic set loose in the town you had made a home of. Often you found yourself lost in your own mounting anxieties as the reports grew more and more frequent, and rumours gradianted into a much dreaded possibility. Even though you were no stranger to the darker arts, proficient as you are in the art of Summoning, you had never delved too far into its catalogue. In fact, Summoning was about all you ever touched and even then, amongst some other magically inclined individuals, it was considered somewhat of a lesser art; not as destructive and therefore not as notable as others.

However, just because you never strayed into more questionable arts doesn’t mean you know not of them. You’re aware that there are some dark arts that are a bit more accepted amongst the magically inclined than others, used for educational purposes and approved of as a means to protect oneself. Really dark arts are just offensive abilities, so no matter what there is always an element of wariness when it comes to the potential of such arts. As long as you utilise them in an acceptable manner there will be no questioning, no inquiries into your character.

For those not accepted though it is typically because they cross some form of moral or ethical line, taking an individual down a path that alters them irremediably. Stains the core of their aura with the makings of something dreadful, corrupts them until they lose all that makes them as they are.

Admittedly, if not studied correctly or the thirst for knowledge becomes too consuming, then any art can destroy a person; can set them down that very smart path. And sometimes a person can destroy the values of the art and stretch it into something it is not designed to be. There are many stories of Healers’ playing Maker, of a Conjurers’ calling going terribly wrong, of Astrologians’ going insane from their divinations. Once you were almost entranced by your own Summon; a rookie mistake, terribly embarrassing to recall.

Magic in general is a dangerous art and care will always need to be taken. But there are some arts where that danger is part of the art, and those are forbidden. They will always cross the line, and they will never fail to destroy a person; and that person will never fail to destroy others.

That’s what scared you so much about the recent happenings of the town. To think that such a person was lurching about the place, taking people off the street for who knows what nefarious reasons, terrified you. The idea that you could be next, that the stability of your own aura could be at risk because of this rogue caster sickened you. It tore you apart.

And John saw that.

It was a relatively small town, filled with all types of people coming in and out from across the region and the different towns within it. For a long time though the only people you knew that did magic was a spirited Pyromancer called Sharky and some eccentric Apothecary who lived on the outskirts called Larry (you were convinced the man tested his own potions on himself). The first you met when you had summoned a Kelpie to help you put out a fire he had accidentally caused a bit too close to your home, while the latter you had met by chance while looking for ingredients.

That had changed once the Seed brothers had moved in close to the town. They were surprisingly open about their magical inclinations and while the town wasn’t outrightly hostile they were openly suspicious of the three. You had even been a little suspicious of the three, not understanding their reasons for being so forward to a none magically inclined town; it could be dangerous to do so. Ultimately though they suffered little consequence of their reveal, other than strange looks and quiet gossip made of them. You had been envious of that freedom, to be forthright about what you were, but thought better of it. To reveal such a truth after so long would spell disaster for you.

Not even a full lunar cycle had passed before Joseph, the middle brother of the three, had made a point to come seek you out, introducing himself and his brothers to you. It had been a wholly uncomfortable encounter, especially the instance where he had suddenly questioned what arts you had studied. Desperately you had tried to deny it but thankfully the oldest brother, Jacob, had merely sighed and apologised on Joseph’s behalf. As an ex-Paladin turned Enchanter he had fully understood your need for secrecy and had been your saving grace during the whole thing. From then on the brothers become quick acquaintances to you, whether you wanted them to be or not.

Joseph was… okay. He made for interesting conversation no doubt and oftentimes his words gave you pause to think on things, but he could be a touch preachy at times, especially about his beliefs and divinations. Jacob on the other hand had become a confidante of sorts. You didn’t often talk, but when you did the conversation held well enough and his advice was always sound. He was also honest about his thoughts and opinions on a matter, and while you didn’t like being called out when you messed up you did respect his outlook. Your relationship with the youngest brother, John, however was a special one.

It had taken him a few days after the initial introduction to strike up a conversation with you, and for the most part he had purely asked you about yourself. But somewhere between admitting how long you’ve lived here and him nervously revealing himself to be a Conjurer, you had developed a fast trust of the man. It was unexplainable, completely foolish of you, but there was just something about him that you thought was pleasant; a believability to him. He was the first you deliberately told about your darker studies and thankfully, being of similar arts, he had taken it exceedingly well. You had even bonded over the differences and similarities between your chosen studies. He had become a dear friend, and only became dearer as the years went by.

So John noticing when your worries began to eat at you didn’t surprise you. He knew you extraordinarily well, sometimes it was even a little spooky how well he knew you, but it was also an odd comfort. He knew just what to say to put you at ease, to assure you that you would be safe and even going so far as promising that he himself would protect you from such a fate as those missing. You still had doubts, but his care was touching.

If only you had learned the truth sooner.

“My friend, please,” you cry, wrists shackled uncomfortably above you, the metal cutting into your skin, “I beg of thee, stop this! Such practises are a blight to the soul, you will doom yourself if you continue. I know not what it is you wish to accomplish, but please spare them this torture! Spare yourself! Surely there has to be another way, John; surely!”

John merely chuckles quietly, slowly shaking his head as he does so. “Oh, you’re too sweet, darling. Even now, as you are, you still think of me and my well being before yourself. Not to imply you have anything to fear, of course; you know I would never hurt you. I merely mean it as an observation. It is a charming trait, that sweetness of yours. It’s part of why I fell for you so.” He turns to you then, up to his elbows covered in blood. The person before him is still alive, but barely, their breaths shallow and their skin a deathly pallor. To think he was a Hemomancer this whole time…

“But why waste words on their behalf when they would never deign to do the same for you? You had to hide yourself, deny what you truly are just to be accepted by these lowly worms for years. Tell me, where is the fairness in that? In what world should we sequest ourselves away from those weaker than us, those deemed less worthy by the Maker themselves?”

Crossing the space in a few long strides he stops before you, bloody hands cupping your cheeks gently even as you try to turn away from him, bringing you back to stare helplessly into his sparkling eyes, “Don’t you see, sweet one? You are beautiful, in every part, as you are. We were blessed by the Maker, but they will never see that, blinded as they are. They will never appreciate our arts, our gifts, or even us as people, no matter what we may do or sacrifice for them. If I need to subject myself to risk to show them their place, to create a world that you need not hide in any longer, then I’ll do so gladly and without hesitation.”

Shaking your head softly, face still captured within his hands, a tear slips unbidden down your cheek. “But it will consume you. You’ll become a monster.”

“Maybe,” he admits, tone oddly calm as he carefully brushes beneath your eye with his thumb, smearing blood through the track of your tear, “but I wonder, what type of monster would I be without you, do you think?”

Perhaps it is vain of you, but something tells you that he would be another beast entirely without you chained to him as you now are…

[thiswasinevitableid]

16 Elementals OT4 NSFW with cool magic shenanigans because they each have a different element so the way they interact is tense and interesting

Here you go! Thanks to @bellafarallones for “Windrid.” Also, I’m going to warn that there’s sort of breathplay in this: Nothing unsafe or aggressive, but more that Barclays breathing plays a role in the sexual dynamic at one point. 

“I feel both very loved and very worried.” Barclay, grocery bags in hand, stares at the pile of books surrounding his boyfriend. Behind Joseph is his beloved blackboard wall, covered in chalk notes and diagrams. 

“That’s because I do love you, big guy.” Joseph closes his laptop, hurries around the desk to kiss him, “and I have some excellent news to share once Duck and Indrid get home.”

A rush of wind through the window makes them turn. The air takes shape, becoming a pale-haired, lanky man sporting red glasses. Indrid grins, stealing a kiss from an once-again distracted Joseph before draping his arms over Barclay to nuzzle his face and kiss his lips. The fire at Barclay’s core glows hotter, though Indrid is careful to pull away before any sparks fly. 

It was Indrid who brought them all together; the wind elemental, gifted with foresight on top of everything else, noticed that whenever he and his boyfriend went out with Joseph and Barclay, there were lots of lingering looks in all directions and that the futures where he pointed this out ended well for everyone. So Barclay now has two boyfriends, one metamour, and one gigantic problem: sex.

The usual line is that elementals of different kinds cannot be together without disaster. He and Joseph, water at his core, were already running into problems. Things always started out nice and steamy, the longer they had their hands on each other, the harder it was for Barclay to breathe. The one time he tried to push through it, he passed out and awoke to a very worried Joseph about to call the fantasy paramedics.

When he and Indrid first fooled around, it was perfect; he got hotter, hungrier, and Indrid was elated by every touch. Then something tipped and, like high winds whipping a fire across a prairie, they burnt anything in their path. Luckily this was just the bed, but Barclay remains terrified that it will happen again and take out the whole house. 

Indrid and Duck never seem to have this problem; earth and air are well matched, Indrid twining around his boyfriend as he holds strong and laughs. Joseph has, so far, been able to be with either or both of them without issue, growing rougher under Indrid’s touch and dirtier when his body caresses Ducks’. So yeah, Barclay can’t help but feel like he’s the problem. 

It’s not that they leave him out. He jerks himself off to the sight of Joseph pinned between the other two men, submits eagerly to Indrid fucking him open with mages hand, and has worn out two remote controlled vibrators that Joseph bought him (one for his birthday, one for their anniversary). It’s wonderful, and afterwards he curls up with them all in the bed Duck conjured from the floor. Yet what he wants is Indrid pressed against him as he cums, Joseph melting and moaning under his hands as he fucks into him. He wants more and is resigned to never having it. 

He tried saying as much to Joseph, in hopes of conveying that this was okay, that he wanted to stay with him, with them, no matter what. Joseph set his jaw and swore he’d find some way to get Barclay what he wanted. His boyfriend was determined, and a determined Joseph Stern was nothing to scoff at. 

Still, as Indrid breezes to the door to greet Duck, Barclay wonders if the exciting news has anything to do with him at all. Before he can start dinner, Joseph waves the three of them over to his desk.  

“I figured out what we’ve been doing wrong in bed. Or, well, not wrong, but something we’ve been missing that would let Barclay get involved in new ways. As you can see here” he points to a diagram full of elemental signs, “we channel the connections between our emotions, our elements, and our physical forms all the time. The same thing can happen in bed, but we need either objects or roles that allow us channel them.”

“And it’d be safe?” Barclay loops an arm around Josephs’ waist, hope creeping into his chest. 

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“I mean, would you be able to use your powers to check, darlin? I’m down to try it, but I’d rather not catch fire or have poor Barclay get smothered.”

Indrid nods, face going blank a moment before a grin spreads across it, “Assuming we follow Josephs’ plan, I foresee it going swimmingly.”

Barclay takes a deep breath, “Okay. but you guys gotta promise me that if things get uncomfortable you won’t push through it for my sake.”

“Promise.” Say three voices. 

“Then I’m in.”

“Fantastic. So,” Joseph pulls out a new stack of notes, “how do you feel about collars, big guy?”

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

This may be the best research result ever Joseph thinks as he secures the black collar around Barclays’ neck. They’re both down to their boxers. Duck and Indrid should be in the same state, except they got distracted. 

“Don’t delay on my account.” Indrid looks over his shoulder from his position between Duck’s legs, “I’ve just noticed some wood that needs my attention.”

Duck cackles, face just out of view, “You ain’t allowed to give me shit for callin you ‘Windrid’ when you say stuff like thaATohfuck, yeah, fuck I missed your mouth.”

“I did this yesterday, sweet one.”

“Point stands.” Duck moans, and his fingers twist into Indrid’s hair, “fuck, that’s it, that’s so fuckin good.”

“Guess we’re starting without them.”

“Think it’s more like they started without us.” Barclay quips, but Joseph sees the worry flicker on his face. 

Joseph cups his cheek, stroking his coppery beard before leaning to kiss him. As he kisses back Joseph guides them onto their sides. He likes having his back to Duck when Indrid fucks him as much as he likes watching them, because loves the way Duck’s laughs and creaks as Indrid has his way with him. It turns him on fast enough that he’s already grinding his hips when Barclay hooks their legs together. The fire elemental is already half-hard.

“Wound up?” He teases as steam rises from his ankle and from his fingertips as plays them across that broad chest. 

“Uhuh, fuck, babe, been thinking about this all day. Fucking love touching you, get hard just thinking about it.”

“I can tell” he wiggles his hips, moans when Barclay drags his mouth up his neck, “you can touch whatever you want, big guy, but you have to kiss me while you do.” 

Barclay practically devours his mouth, kisses relentless as his hands warm Joseph’s back and sides, send heat bubbling across his chest and down to dick. The first time he steamed at his touch, Barclay flinched away, afraid he hurt him. It does hurt, but in the way that cleanses. It’s like Barclay strips him down to his essence with his touch, melts him so all he has to do is be one with the heat between them, all he has to do is be loved, be wanted.

Joseph hooks his finger into the ring on the collar and tugs. Barclay breaks the kiss, gasping, chest burning against him. 

“Fuuuck, fuck, babe, do that again.”

He yanks the collar forward and the man wearing it into another kiss. Behind Joseph, Duck moans sharp and broken as Indrid hums, pleased. 

“That’s it, lean into the feeling, I’ve got you.” He rests their foreheads together, “I control how much air you get, and you like that, right?”

A frantic nod, Barclay sobbing with relief when Joseph puts slack on the collar, “More, I want more, it doesn’t scare me like before.”

“Technically” Indrid purrs in Joseph’s ear, “I have the most control over the air of anyone here.” His hand slides over Josephs waist and down between him and Barclay. He rubs Joseph’s dick, lets Barclay rut against the back of his hand.

“So wet already, my pet. You do know how to behave for me.”

“Shit” Joseph jerks his hips roughly back and forth, Indrid tossing desire through him like a ship on stormy seas, “yes, I’ll be so good, let you do whatever you want, Indrid, please.”

A smirk is plain in the kiss Indrid gives his neck, “Since you asked so nicely.” His fingers slip into his boxers, curling up into him and fucking him open. Joseph groans, bucking his hips and thus putting more pressure on Barclays dick. He growls into Barclay’s mouth, forcing the collar this way and that. It’s only when he pulls away and sees the shine of Barclays’ eyes dimming that he stops. 

“Nooo” Barclay whimpers, clinging to him and pleadingly kissing his face.

“You’re starting to go out.” Joseph eases out of the hold, “which means we need to move to the next part of the plan.”

“But-” the fire elemental slowly paws the collar, full lips beginning to pout.

“Hush now, dearest” Indrid guides Barclay up so they’re sitting face to face, “Joseph isn’t going far. Sweet pet that he is, he’s going to take care of Duck.”

“Damn right he is.” Duck lounges, back half on against the headboard and half against the pillows, hands behind his head. He’s still in his white undershirt, and Joseph nips the curve of his belly through it.

“AH, heh, always do get extra feisty when I let ‘Drid wind you up first.”

“I’m just getting started.” He tosses his underwear into the laundry basket and grabs the harness he prepared earlier; it’s a thong style one which, if this all goes according to plan, will come in very handy later tonight.  

As he secures the straps, Indrid is busy whispering in Barclays ears.

“Tell me, dearest, do you want to simply sit here and watch, or do you want me to make good use of you and your wonderful ass.”

“Fuck me, sir, please.” 

Duck whistles, “Damn, we’re already gettin ‘sirs’ outta him? This plan of yours is fuckin magic, Joe.”

“Just well researched.” He sighs as Duck spreads his legs, runs his fingers along his thighs, “Lord, every inch of you is the definition of perfection. I want to do such filthy things with you.”

“Then do ‘em. Ohhellyeah, fuck, you picked my favorite one.”

“Of course.” Joseph pulls Ducks ass into his lap.

“Don’t I even get a kiss?” That crooked smile never fails to win him over, so he bends down to capture Duck’s lips. The contact sends his heart swirling and spinning with want, image after image of the most depraved actions imaginable filling his mind. 

He was so afraid the first time they kissed, having heard horror stories of water elementals accidentally dissolving beloved earth elementals to mud while cuddling. Duck pointed out that these stories were bullshit that didn’t align with how his kind held their forms. And that, because his version of the element was more plants than soil, being together might even nourish him. 

“Who knows, sugar, maybe you’ll have to fuck me once a day so I grow big and strong.”

Joseph breaks the kiss and Duck murmurs, “You kisses are so damn relaxin’. Never woulda guessed that’s what you were hidin’ under that buttoned-up professional deal.”

“Life is full of surprises. Well, for most of us.” He glances at Indrid, but he’s too engrossed in whispering to Barclay as he tugs and twists his hair to respond. Joseph shrugs, pulls halfway out, and then shoves back into his boyfriend. 

“Fuck! Hellfuckinyeah Joe, you ain’t wastin anytime and I fuckin love it.”

“How can I? Look at this” he keeps a hand on Duck’s hip for leverage, presses the other up his belly and chest, squeezing his pecs and then his biceps with moan, “I love your body, love watching it bounce and strain when we’re together.” 

Duck grows redder with each word, “it’s yours wherever you want it, sugar.”

“I want it as often as I can have it, shared with Indrid or just us alone, because seeing the landscape of you laid out, all that beauty and strength in one body it makes me, makes me-” he growls, sets his hands on the center of Ducks chest and scratches outwards, leaving five deep, red marks in his wake. 

Duck moans, arching off the bed as flowers and leaves bloom in the lines, his body regaining his form fairly quickly and sending them scattering around the bed. Joseph gives up on his planned position, dropping forward to brace on his arms and fuck him so he can sink his teeth into his shoulder. Again a blossom rises from the red mark, again Duck moans, and that breaks his restraint. He scratches and bites, catches Duck’s moans and cries of pleasure between his teeth and petals beneath his hands. He would do this forever if he could, carve his way into Duck, make life bloom along every inch of him. 

“Such a lovely show. Don’t you agree, Barclay?” Indrid grins, full of confident mischief, from as he fucks Barclay gentle and fast in the ass. He’s positioned them so Barclay is on his elbows and knees, face buried in the blankets. His hair is beginning to move like flames instead of keratin.

“Oh, how silly of me, you cannot see like that. Let’s fix that.” Undaunted, Indrid pulls Barclay up by his hair, forcing him to watch Joseph’s cock thrust into Duck over and over again. 

The Indrid releases him, shaking off his hand, “That was, ah, a bit too close. I wonder...Duck, could you help me?” 

He’s holding the ring of the collar, and when Duck snaps his fingers a thick vine loops around it instead. Indrid takes the other end of the new leash, “Thank you, sweetheart, Now, where were we? Ah yes.” Barclay’s head is once again yanked up, “I was sharing this wonderful view with you.”

Barclays eyes are wild, their usual brown giving way to deep red and gold. The last time they looked that way, the smoke alarm went off. It takes him a moment to figure out why it’s not doing so now. People often write Indrid off, assuming his visions mean he has no need for intelligence. But the wind elemental is clever as can be; right now, he’s using the leash and collar to counteract his own influence on Barclay, at once feeding his fire and containing it. 

A crackling whine snaps him back from his appreciation of Indrid’s strategic thinking. Barclays eyes are fixed on his cock. 

“I know, dearest, you wish you were touching Joseph instead, perhaps burying that massive cock of yours into him while I finish in your ass.”

Barclay nods, “yes sir” 

“Another time. I haven’t cum yet tonight, and you are my chosen method.” He drops the leash, “what do you say?”

“Th-thank you, thank you sir, thank you for using my ass, fuck, fuck sir, it feels so good.”

Joseph would love to see Barclay’s face as this spills from it. But there’s the more urgent matter of Duck, who guides him down into a deep, long kiss as their bodies work to meet each other with increasing urgency.

“That’s it, right there Joe, c’mon, make me cum, make mefuck” Duck tenses under him, continues twitching and letting out little grunts of pleasure as Joseph pulls out. He cups Duck’s cheek, brushing his hair from his forehead; up close, the black contains iridescent, dark green. Joseph is transfixed enough that he registers the high, airy moan that signals Indrid cumming, but not what it means.

A roar in his ears, like when you toss a match onto newspaper. Barclay’s hands are on him, his cock buried to the hilt, before the water elemental is able to sit all the way up. Duck crawls backwards, eyes wide. 

“You sure this is gonna be okay?” 

“Indeed. I’ve stoked his, ah, passion so intensely, Joseph won’t have an adverse effect on him.”

Joseph is about to ask if there will be any adverse effects the other direction when Barclay starts thrusting, draped over his back and arms tight around his middle. Joseph decides not to straighten in order to keep his palms on the bed for balance. 

“C’mon babe, take me deep, want you to feel me on every fucking inch of you.”

His skin is steaming so much his vision is cloudy.

“Wanted this for so fucking long, now I’ve got it I’m gonna make good use, gonna make you scream, gonna show you just how fucking hot you make me.”

“I have, oh lord, have some idea. OHohshit” the heat in his chest is one degree shy of painful, and it has his head tipping back and his body going limp in Barclay’s hold, “I’m close, big guy, you’re going to make me cum.”

The cock pounding into him speeds up, heat pouring into him wherever their bodies touch. Barclay is not longer talking, just grunting and growling as he fucks up into him. The warmth burst through him, his orgasm chased by the unfamiliar sensation of boiling in his gut. It’s followed an instant later by a bolt of heat as Barclay shoots into him. 

He’s not sure how long Duck is holding his face, repeating his name, before he responds. 

“I, I’m alright, Duck.” He holds his hands, “just needed a second to recover.”

Warm arms rest tentatively around his waist. Barclay tries to kiss him, drop his face against his neck instead, tears dotting his skin.

“Oh, oh Barclay, I’m sorry, I, I didn’t mean to worry you.” He pats his hair comfortingly as Indrid cuddles up beside him. Duck sits next to Indrid, rubbing his back. 

“It’s, I’m, I’m not upset. It’s just….I’ve never gotten to hold you when we did that. Or, or be held, and you three went to all this trouble just so I could and I” he sniffs, rubs his eyes, “I feel so fucking lucky.”

“You’re not the only one” Indrid murmurs, stroking Barclays beard, “I feel confident that all three of us are glad to have you in our lives.”

They huddle together awhile longer, then Joseph strips and remakes the bed while Barclay gets dinner ready, Duck bringing in some flowers from the garden and Indrid staying in the kitchen ostensibly to rest but also be sure Barclay isn’t alone if he drops without warning. They eat a leisurely dinner, go about their evening tasks alone or close together as it pleases them, and fall asleep cuddled against each other in bed, feeling very lucky indeed.

[mordoriscalling]

The Shrike and the Lark (pt. 5)

Jaskier and Renfri are disaster twins ruling Creyden. When the Warlord of the North knocks at their door, Queen Renfri and King Julian are at an advantage - they know him. As in, they know him. (Inspired by the Warlord AU and “the heart is a winged beast”).

(Pt. 1) (Pt. 2) (Pt. 3) (Pt. 4)

Creyden, 1237

On the tenth day of the Warlord’s stay in Creyden, a famous travelling troupe of musicians performs after dinner, for the enjoyment of the King, the Queen, their court, as well as the White Wolf and his entourage. The group came on King Julian’s invitation, for he is a great patron of arts. Ever since he ascended the throne, he’s actively encouraged artists to visit and create under his sponsorship. As a result, the royal court of Creyden has become one of the cultural centres of the North, which silenced at least those who condemned the Black Sun monarchs as barbarians with no care for the finer elements of life.

The evening’s music is splendid and people take to the dancefloor eagerly. King Julian and Queen Renfri dance first four dances together – with the Queen as the lead and the King as the led, for the twin monarchs have been criticised for their non-traditionality so many times that, out of spite, they have made it their mission to shove it in everyone’s faces – but then King Julian leaves his sister’s side to ask Eskel to join him.

As King Julian and Eskel dance, their gazes do not stray from each other for a second, and smiles do not leave their faces. Too taken with each other, they do not take not of the scrutiny of the whole room falls upon them. After all, the Lark has never taken a lover so peculiar. The bulky, scarred monster hunter is a far cry from the noblewomen and occasional noblemen not rejecting the King’s advances in fear of consequences. Eskel is at ease, appearing somehow dismissive of their difference in station, which does not endear him to many in the royal court.

Their affair has not been received with the same disapproval by other witchers, with the glaring exception of the Warlord himself. It has been noticed, of course, that the White Wolf seems to bear a grudge towards the King. The witcher’s attitude towards the Lark has been frosty, especially during the negotiation talks. Yet, even then, the Warlord does not show his dislike as openly as he does now – his glower directed at King Julian could bring death to a lesser man.

The King, however, is no ordinary man in this regard. He is known to love proudly, no matter who holds his affections at a given time. And so, he answers the White Wolf’s glares with challenging stares of his own as he dances with his witcher lover.

The situation eventually reaches its climax. After their third dance together, Eskel and King Julian leave the dance floor and make their way towards the high table, chattering happily. The White Wolf raises from his seat and strides towards them, meeting them halfway.

The King’s good humour vanishes as the Warlord, who scowls formidably, stands before him. The room seems to hold a breath.

“May I request a moment in private, Your Majesty?” the White Wolf grinds out.

“You may,” the King permits coldly.

Julian leaves Eskel with a kiss on the cheek and a murmured promise of swift return, then heads out of the hall with the Warlord silently following in his footsteps. The two renew their conversation only when the door of the nearby war room closes behind them. As soon as no ears can hear them, the White Wolf lays the problem on the line.

“Put a stop to your dalliance with Eskel,” he demands. King Julian sputters but the White Wolf does not give him the chance to answer. “Either this,” he goes on, “Or court him properly and marry him. Do right by him. He doesn’t deserve any less.”

“That is true,” King Julian agrees, then falls silent. Eventually, he speaks again, his response measured, “You charged me with not being the same irresponsible man I once had been, but you weren’t entirely right. There remains one responsibility that I will dodge until my dying breath or else it will take away the rest of the air I breathe. My duties stifle me enough already.”

“Jaskier,” the Warlord sighs, exasperated. “Put it bluntly.”    

“I will not marry, Geralt.”

Anger sparks in Geralt’s gaze at the statement. “So what are you even doing with Eskel?” he growls, “Toying with him to your amusement? Does the prospect of the ruin you’ll bring to his heart entertain you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks, his eyes narrowed.  

“You are the same with all your lovers, aren’t you?” Geralt asks. “You look into their core so that not a single vulnerability remains hidden from you. Then, you embrace them as completely as only you can – ” Soul-deep hurt unfurls in Geralt’s tone as he says this, seeping from in between the syllables until his voice is hoarse. “ – and then, you love them like they’ve never been loved before, just to walk away, leaving them forever aching for the fullness of your love.”

The accusations – so lashed out and yet so carefully structured – leave ringing silence in their wake. The White Wolf, vulnerable after having bared his heart, shifts away. Jaskier may now only look upon the witcher’s back. He attempts to form a reply but fails to make a sound. When he finally succeeds, he manages just one word.  

“Geralt,” he rasps, shocked, pained and pleading all at once.

Geralt does not answer the call; he clenches his fists but stands still.

Jaskier swallows thickly. “There hasn’t been a day since that I don’t regret leaving you,” he confesses, sorrow making his own voice waver, “I’m so sorry, but I had to. I had to find – ”

Geralt turns to Jaskier with a huff, baring his teeth in a derisive smile. “Don’t bother,” he says, then moves to leave the room.

“But I promised,” Jaskier insists, standing in his way.

“Fuck your promise,” the witcher snaps. “Fuck that, and the rest of your lies.”

“I did not lie,” Jaskier counters, now furious too, “The Jaskier you got to know is all real. Julian was concealed underneath, yes, I did not lie when I befriended you because you’re a good man, nor when loved you with every breath I drew – ”

“Shut up,” the White Wolf snarls, “Don’t you fucking dare say such things to me, not after you avoided all my questions –”

“I was too afraid! I was never sure if Stregobor was still after me or not, I was too afraid to be discovered. I never revealed my lineage to anyone!”

“You didn’t trust me, then.”

“I trust you with my life!” Jaskier cries.

The statement and the emotion behind it dance on the verge of saying too much. Geralt’s answer dies on his tongue and he stares at his former lover, stunned.

Jaskier goes to sit down at the table, covering his face with his hands. When he stops hiding his face, he does not look at Geralt. “The way you can’t speak of the Trails,” he says quietly, “just the same, I couldn’t utter a word of what Stregobor has done to my sister – my twin, the very half of my soul – or of how he made me submit to his tortures. Or of how I lived on the run, whoring myself, lying and stealing, until I finally turned the corner. I couldn’t face how that fucking mage shaped me into a wreck that I am.”

Geralt sighs, his anger faltering. “You saw me for the wreck that I was, that I am,” he replies. “All of it, and you didn’t flinch away. Why didn’t you allow me a single glimpse in return? You must’ve known that you had no rejection to fear from me.”

“And yet, I was a coward,” Jaskier admits. “I’m so sorry –”

“I don’t wish to speak of it anymore,” the witcher dismisses, measuring Jaskier with a hard stare. “Just be warned, Your Majesty: if you break my brother’s heart, there will be consequences.”

“Understood,” King Julian grinds out and raises from his seat. Then, he looks deep into the White Wolf’s eyes, bows his head and murmurs, “My lord.”

The Warlord clenches his jaw and storms out of the room.

The King returns to the feast alone, which is a fact not overlooked by anyone in the hall, including those seated at the high table.

“I wonder,” Lady Yennefer says to the Queen, “What’s happened between them?”

The chair separating the sorceress and Queen Renfri has been vacated. Without the Warlord in the way, the two women are now able to converse freely.

Queen Renfri looks at Lady Yennefer sharply. “Why is that of interest to you?” she demands.

“Your Majesty doesn’t have to distrust me so,” the sorceress reassures, “I have no ill-willed intentions. It’s just curiosity.”

Renfri accepts the answer, inclining her head just a touch. Her watchful gaze does not stray from White Wolf’s left hand for a moment. “You must excuse my distrust of mages, Lady Yennefer” she says, “It’s a result of what one of your kind put me through.”

“I understand,” Lady Yennefer replies smoothly, “Stregobor did take it way too far, but he was very fond of the influence which instigating fear of the Curse granted him.” She snorts. “I can’t say I miss his bullshit.”

“Damn right,” Renfri agrees, “The world’s better without him. His life is the only one I pride myself in taking.”

“It is an achievement of a sort,” the sorceress affirms. “Though, I must admit that I’m... cautious, facing a person who managed to kill one of my own kind.”

Queen Renfri smirks smugly but then schools her face into a neutral expression. “Mutual wariness suits fine with me,” she answers, reaching for her goblet of wine.

Lady Yennefer takes a sip from her drink as well. The two ladies are silent for some time, listening to the music and surveying the surroundings. They both chuckle upon witnessing King Julian quite literally dragging Eskel out of the hall.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t settle for mutual wariness,” Lady Yennefer suggests then. At the Queen’s questioning gaze, she explains, “One grows the most powerful by conquering their own fears.”

Queen Renfri regards the sorceress intently but the purple-eyed mage does not seem bothered by the intense scrutiny - she stares right back with a similar interest.

“I shall consider this thought,” the Queen says at last.  

Lady Yennefer’s smile is sharp and satisfied as she replies, “Then I am awaiting your answer.”

Renfri lifts her goblet up and drinks to that.

Read the rest on AO3

[wardenrainwall]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blackwall/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Blackwall/Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age) Characters: Blackwall | Thom Rainier, Blackwall, Inquisitor, Female Trevelyan Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Coping Series: Part 11 of The Disaster that is Evelyn Trevelyan Summary:

Corypheus is defeated, but do Evelyn and Blackwall get a happily ever after?

-- 

Evelyn blinked slowly and reached up, rubbing a hand over her face. Judging by the candle still burning on the nightstand, she didn’t think she’d slept long. She’d barely slept at all in the last few days, but the exhaustion had gotten the best of her. Stretching out her arm, she found the man beside her. His skin still burning to the touch. The surgeon and the healers had done all they could. Now they had to wait.

She had to wait.

“You promised,” Evelyn said, her voice hoarse, her throat aching from all the tears she’d shed. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me, you bastard. I’ll never forgive you. Do you hear me? Never.” Forcing herself to get up, she went around the bed to the chair at the other side. Picking up the cloth she dipped it in the cool water, rung it out, and lightly pressed it against his forehead, his cheeks. 

“You know-” she broke off, laying the folded cloth over his forehead she dropped her hands into her lap and stared at him. “I can’t do this without you.” He didn’t move, didn’t react in any way. Just continued to sleep as he had for days. 

“It is a healing sleep,” the mage had reassured her. Magically induced. 

“It can’t end like this,” Evelyn murmured. “For the last ten years, the only thing I wanted was to die. I didn’t want-I didn’t care-I just-” tears streamed down her cheeks and she shook her head. “You don’t get to leave me like this,” her voice trembled and it made her angry. “You made me fall in love with you. You made me want to live. You made want that stupid future, in that stupid cabin by the lake-” 

Covering her face with her hands, Evelyn let the tears fall. She had only ever meant it to be about sex. How many men had she been with in the last ten years in her attempts to fleetingly escape her misery? But this man had fought for her. Fought with her. Fought beside her. Refusing to give up even when that was all she wanted.

 Didn’t she owe him the same? “You are not allowed to die, do you hear me? You’re going to fucking fight,” she hissed out angrily. “You promised me that cabin by the lake.” Reaching out, Evelyn took Blackwall’s hand in hers, then lowered her head to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “We won, and I want to spend lazy afternoons in bed with you. We’ve fucking earned it.”

 Evelyn sat there watching the rise and fall of his chest, and for the first time in her life, she prayed. Not because she believed, no, she’d long ago forsaken the Maker. But because Blackwall believed. She racked her brain for any gods she could think of. The Elven gods, the gods the Avaar looked to. She prayed to the Stone.

 A soft rap of knuckles on wood had her glancing up to see Cullen standing at the top of the stairs, his brows pinched in concern. “Any change?” he asked, voice low.

 “No,” Evelyn murmured and watched the Commander step further into the room. He walked over to stand on the other side of the bed and looked down at Blackwall. She had been surprised by the fact that she’d begun to see Cullen as a friend. Because while they had been through very different things, she thought they were quite similar in their misery. And surprisingly, they both had found love in the Inquisition. Though Cullen hadn’t fought it like she had.

 “He’s strong,” Cullen said with a slight nod.

 Evelyn was quiet for a moment, her gaze skittering over Blackwall’s face, then down over his chest, to the blanket that covered him from the waist down. To the empty space where his right leg used to be. “How would you feel if you woke up to find you’d lost your leg?” she asked genuinely curious because she’d tried to fathom it, and couldn’t. Didn’t know how Blackwall would react, how he’d respond to the loss.

 Cullen reached up, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and shook his head. “It would be hard,” he said. He was quiet for several seconds then shook his head. “But it wouldn’t make me less. It doesn’t make him less. Bull says he still feels pain in the fingers that he lost years ago. I imagine his leg will be worse. But Blackwall is strong and he has you to kick him in the ass when he needs it.”

 An unexpected laugh escaped Evelyn’s lips and she smiled a little. “The Iron Bull is rubbing off on you,” she commented and he gave a slight shrug, his cheeks tinged pink. “What happens now? For the three of you?”

 “I don’t know,” Cullen admitted. “But, we’ll figure it out together.” Another beat of silence. “I’ll go, leave you be. Dorian said he’d stop by later, see if there is anything he can do. Do you need anything?”

 Evelyn gave her head a shake. “No,” she told him. “But, thank you.” Cullen inclined his head and left the room, leaving her alone with Blackwall once more. Drawing in a breath, she got up, walked around the bed once more, and climbed up beside Blackwall. She lay on her side, their fingers laced together she curled her free hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. “I hope you heard all that,” she murmured. “I get to kick your ass.”

       It was early morning, the sky just beginning to lighten to shades of muted deep blue and purple. A low haze settled over the glass-smooth lake and all around her the world was completely silent. Evelyn liked the quiet, the peace of these early mornings. Felt almost as if the veil was thinner, the line that separated life from death almost transparent.

 As if maybe he could hear her when she spoke to him.

 Clutching the wooden box to her chest, Evelyn closed her eyes, ignoring the tears that fell. “I love you,” she said, voice tremulous. “I miss you every single day, and I will for the rest of my life.” Her exhale was ragged. “But I can’t-” Evelyn swallowed hard, opened her eyes to stare across the misty water. “I know you’d want me to live, so that’s what I’ll do.”

 Looking down at the box, she traced a fingertip over the intricate carving in the wooden top. Blackwall had made it for her, given it to her just a few months before that final battle. Evelyn wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring down at the wooden box when she heard a quiet thump, thump, thump, against the wooden planks of the dock.

 He came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers and she turned her head to look at him. His hair had gone a bit more silver in the last seven months since the battle, and he’d shorn his beard a bit closer. He bore deeper lines around his eyes, from laughter, and from the pain. He turned his head, looked at her, soft blue-grey eyes meeting hers.

 “Alright?” he asked, voice a little husky from sleep. Evelyn nodded. “Coffee should be ready,” he continued and her lips curved slightly. So domestic this life that they had created for themselves. No more fighting, no more battles, though she knew he was still eager to help others. To seek out those he’d wronged, earn forgiveness, help others seeking their own find it.

 Turning, they began to walk back up the dock toward the cabin, the prosthetic and cane still new, and a little unfamiliar. “Thom,” Evelyn said when he was a few steps ahead of her. He turned, brows lifted in question. “I love you,” she told him and watched the smile spread across his face.

 “I love you too, Ev.” Then he extended his hand, and she took it. They continued inside, Thom went to the stove, pouring the coffee into mugs, while Evelyn discarded the blanket on the back of a chair, and took the box to the shelf where it resided. Setting it down, she lifted the lid, peered inside for a moment. It held small things, little gifts she’d received that were dear to her. But most importantly, it held the small silverite locket that contained two miniatures. Lowering the lid, she knew they were safe there, protected.

 Turning around, she crossed to the counter, gathered the mugs, and followed Thom to their small table. He sat, and she placed the mugs on the table before sliding into his lap, straddling his thighs. One arm slid around her waist, the other picked up one of the cups. Evelyn let out a quiet sigh, picking up her own mug to sip the rich brew.

 She was content. Happy - blissfully. They still had their hard days, of course, but they were happy, and they deserved it.

[clintbartonswife]

'cause you make me ache, you bastard

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier Summary: The White Wolf had always walked alone, until Jaskier came along and changed it all. He refused to let the bastard die. Notes: aftermath of torture, descriptions of injury and blood, magic and bonds and destiny, oh my! masterlist  ||  part one  ||  part three

The three of them had been travelling towards Kaer Morhen when he felt it, the chill travelling up his spine with such ferocity that it made him halt in his tracks.

“Geralt?”

Ciri was sat upon Roach, the mare coming to a stop beside her owner, nudging the Witcher in the chest gently with her head. Ignoring the child for now, he tried to grab onto the feeling, not understanding the sudden sensation.

“Yen” he grunted, turning to face the sorceress, “Do you feel it too?”

The sorceress nodded, lips pinched together in concentration, “It’s someone calling for help, they sending it out so desperately I doubt they’ve done it on purpose” she said eventually, “But who-”

“Jaskier”

A few days after the mountain and Geralt had found himself stuck in a Cintran cell, the bland walls giving him plenty of time to replay the past week over and over in his head.

Yennefer leaving, hurt blinding him as he lashed out at Jaskier. Walking down the mountain alone. The silence, encompassing him on his travels, and yet it was somehow more deafening than anything the bard could’ve played.

Regret was quick to surface as the anger retreated.

Regret for tying Yen’s fate to his. Regret for the way he treated Jaskier, on that mountain and in general over the last 22 years.

Cintra fell and he found his child surprise, the two of them reconnecting with Yennefer weeks later.

Apologies swapped between the two built a timid foundation of a new friendship, their sole focus being protecting his their child surprise from the Nilfgaardians that were sweeping across the continent.

Despite both of his bonds being fulfilled, Geralt still felt a sense of emptiness at the back of his mind, eyes still searching for someone on the distance horizon - he wrote it off as paranoia, his body being on guard as they fleed the Nilfgaardian forces.

But.

There was always a but, a doubt at the back of his mind, eating away at his sanity. Another thread of destiny, pulled taught, in danger of snapping.

Of course Geralt should’ve guessed it was Jaskier.

Panic bubbled at the base of his throat as he watched Yen start the tracking spell, the small group moved to a temporary camp just off the road.

“Who’s Jaskier?” Ciri asked, voice hesistant.

“Bard”

The short response was obviously not enough for the princess, the girl moving closer to Geralt, “I recognise the name” she commented absently, “I think he performed for me once”

Gerlat hummed absentmindedly, mind too focused on every possible disaster his - no - the bard might have managed to get caught up in.

“I have a trace” Yen announced, Geralt standing up immediately, “He’s in Neunreuth“

Horror swept over Geralt, “That’s a Nilfgaardian controlled city”

Ciri gasped in despair.

“I have to go and get him -”

“Geralt we have no idea what kind of defences they have, let alone what condition Jaskier will be in when we get there. Ciri is our main priority and we need to get her to Kaer Morhen before they catch up with us”

“We cant just leave him!”

Yennefer sighed, the exhaustion creeping in with her annoyance, “And I’m not suggesting that we do! What I’m saying is that we can storm into there with nothing more than good will and hope”

Ciri slowly got to her feet, “I could help. I haven't got much control of it yet... but if I scream-?”

Warmth spread through Geralt’s chest at her offer of help, a small smile lifting at the corners of his lips. Yennefer cut him off before he could speak.

“I’m sure Jaskier would love to hear that you wanted to help, but your safety comes first. It’s simply too dangerous to bring you with us”

“So what? He gets left behind because of me?” she asked, tears beginning to build up in her eyes.

“No” 

Ciri turned to face Geralt, who’s face was set in a determined expression.

“I’m not leaving him behind”

“Will you stop making me out to be the bad guy for one second and listen to me!” Yen huffed, running her hands through her hair, “I’ll contact Triss. Hopefully she can look after Ciri for a few days while we go and get the bard. Then we can continue our trip to the Keep”

With a definitive nod, Yen turned back to her pack, reaching for her xenovox. 

Ciri murmured nervously, hands fiddling with the end of her cloak, “You will come back for me, right?”

Geralt grunted affirmatively, opening his arms for the young girl. Once she was encompassed in his arms, he placed a light kiss to the top of her hair, “We’re your family now” Geralt said lowly, drawing on his experience with the bard for some comfort to give the girl, “We’ll always come back to you”

Once he was sure that she was settled, Geralt turned away from Ciri and back outside to where Yen was waiting, steel sword in hand.

“I don't know what we’re going to find” Yennefer said bluntly, “I need to know that you’re not going to lose your shit if something goes wrong”

Geralt just nodded, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword impatiently.

Triss stood off to the side, still healing from the battle of Sodden, offering wishes of good luck. The mage walked up to Yen, pressing their foreheads together briefly, “Don't do anything dumb”

“No promises”

Geralt adverted his eyes from the intimate scene, feeling oddly like he was intruding on a private moment - over the months since the dragon hunt he had obviously missed a large change in Yennefer’s life.

He was happy for her, truly he was. The emotion confused him, so he repressed it for now, frowning intensely at the floor until Yen let out a cough.

“Let’s go”

The rushing sound of the portal brought Geralt back to the present, striding forward and through with murderous intent, coming out in the middle of the forest surrounding a large manor house.

Yennefer stepped out behind him and the portal closed with a definitive clunk, “He’s in there” she said, checking the charm, “Basement. Left side” 

Geralt just nodded, “Can you portal us into his room?”

“I could try, but it might be too risky. They could easily follow us if they hire a mage to trace the remnants. It could lead them back to Ciri”

The Witcher shook his head, “We fight our way in then”

The stench of death swept across the manor, the sounds of clashing swords and yells echoing through the empty halls.

Geralt strode through the bodies like a man on a mission, faltering for no one, mind solely focused on finding his bard alive. Men dropped around him like flies, his arm moving subconsciously, muscle memory allowing him to make quick work of the guards as he worked on finding Jaskier’s scent.

The second the Witcher caught a waft of the familiar honey and wildflowers he let out a feral growl, increasing his pace to a sprint, rushing towards the source. As he neared the bard, the scent of copper grew overwhelming, only serving to increase his rage and brutality of his sword strikes.

“Jaskier” he growled, pushing open the door of a cell to see his bard tied to a chair, head hanging limply down.

Ignoring the noise of Yennefer fighting the final few enemies, Geralt fell to his knees in front of the chair, desperately searching for a heartbeat. His breath caught on a sob as he heard the weak fluttering of his heart, hands immediately scrambling to untie the ropes that kept him tied down.

Geralt distantly registered the halls falling silent, Yennefer’s heeled shoes becoming the only sound left as he eased Jaskier’s unconscious form into his arms.

“We should get him back to Triss” Yen said, her voice coming from the doorway, “He should survive the journey. It’s too risky to start healing him here”

Geralt nodded silently, his eyes not straying from Jaskier's bruised face. He adjusted the bard once more in his arms, his hand cupping his limp head as gently as possible, before following Yen through the halls of dead bodies, all the while never looking away from his face.

“Wait” 

Yen paused, turning back to face Geralt, “What now. We have him, we should get going before they send people to look”

“His lute” Geralt said, “He wouldn't leave without his lute”

The sorceress sighed, rubbing her temples, “Just - get him out of here. I’ll meet you in the forest”

As the portal re opened, lute hanging on Yennefer’s back, Geralt took one last look at the manor and resisted the urge to set it ablaze with a passionate blaze of igni, instead walking through and back to the cottage, calling for Triss as he went.

“Place him on the bed, second room on the left” Triss called, looking behind Geralt for Yennefer before following him, pushing the sleeves of her dress up to her elbows with a determined look on her face.

“Is he okay?” Ciri asked, vocalising the choked up words stuck in Geralt’s throat as he lay the bard down.

“He will be if we work fast” she replied, gesturing Yennefer to her side, “Ciri I need you to get me some tepid water. Geralt I need clean strips of cloth”

Geralt nodded, grateful for a job to do, taking one last look at the bard’s pale form before striding out to look for supplies.

He would be okay.

He had to be.

________________________________________________________________

@kittynannygaming  @fillingless-piee  @nanazlovese​  

[forabeatofadrum]

che col tuo lume mi levasti - chapter two

Notes: I keep joking to myself since I’m like Rainbow, since I decided to write a trilogy because I missed Baz so much, but you know what? I also missed this Simon!

AO3

--

SIMON

Baz is the last to arrive.

The butter cake is already half eaten. Shepard and I ate most of it. We’re all sat on the floor in a circle and Shepard leads Baz to us.

“Sorry I’m late everyone,” Baz says as he takes off the scarf that my mum has given to him. He lets out a long sigh. “Bunce, please say you have some alcohol for me because I want to drink to forget.”

When Baz says Bunce, he can refer to either Penny or Shepard. It’s confusing sometimes. Shepard’s still on his feet, so he runs towards the kitchen. Baz sits down next to me. I give him a quick kiss.

“What did your aunt want?” I ask.

“Something fucking insane,” is all that Baz says. Then he leans closer to me and whispers: “Pipistrello.”

That’s the Italian word for bat. It’s our code for ‘it has something to do with vampires so let’s not talk about it now’. The Italian word for vampire is vampiro (or vampira, since the Italian language has to be gendered), which would’ve been too obvious, so we chose bat instead. Vampires can’t turn into bats, but bats are associated with vampires. Pipistrello also works in public, since it’s also a name for a lamp. If someone overhears, we tell them that we’re talking about interior design.

I nod.

Baz then turns to Agatha.

“Wellbelove!”

The reunion is sweet and there’s a lot of hugging. Shepard comes back with a bottle of pineapple liquor. It’s very sweet. I like it.

The night goes on like that. We order Thai and we get hammered. It’s nice to have a group of friends for once. It feels different than hanging out with my former classmates. Penny has put a permanent silencing spell on the flat, similar to the one in our flat in Salò, so we don’t have to worry about noise complaints when Shepard breaks out the karaoke.

Around midnight, we’re all pretty mellow. Baz and I are making out in front of everyone. Agatha and Shepard talk about living in America. Penny is spelling the floor squishy and she’s magicked up some sleeping bags, since we’re all staying over.

“Baz, a hand, please?” she asks.

Baz rolls off me to help her. I let out a whine, but I know that he’s also powerful and Penny needs help. Shepard and I are Normals and Agatha doesn’t carry her wand.

It’s really nice to be around others who know about magic, but who can’t do magic. That’s why Shepard and I bonded so much in the first place. Agatha’s situation is obviously different, but I like that magic isn’t everything to her.

“It’s actually fucking weird,” Agatha says to Shepard. She has a smile on her face. She’s drunk. “Like, how there’s so much fucking magic in America. How different it is from the World of Mages. Fuck the World of Mages!”

I sit down next to her.

She turns to me.

“Don’t you think the World of Mages fucking sucks?” she says to me.

I shrug. “It was never my world.”

I don’t mind people referring to it as my world. Baz still says ‘our’ world when we talk about the World of Mages and I never correct him. I’m from the World of Mages the same way I’m from Wales.

“It’s so wack that America never had the same problems, you know?” Shepard slurs. He’s really hammered. “Like, I thought I knew everything, but I didn’t realise there was a different magickal social standing in other places. Knee keeps telling me that America is a mess, and yeah, fair, but we also never had the dead spots like that.”

“Quiet Zones are very different, yeah,” Agatha agrees, “It’s all about the lack of Normals, or Talkers, in those places, not about environmental disasters. The dead spots happened in populated places.”

“My dad is so confused by it!” Penny says.

“My aunt still thinks The Mage was behind it!” Baz adds.

“It’s actually fucking weird!” Agatha says again. Then we all laugh. There’s nothing funny happening, but we’re all happy and drunk and together. The World of Mages is at peace and all is well.

--

Breakfast is leftover butter cake and a random assortment of Pret sandwiches. Shepard and I are obsessed with Pret-A-Manger. You don’t have that in America and Italy. (Although to be fair, the bread at Pret is nothing compared to Italian paninis.)

We’re all hungover, but Penny and Baz spell us. Baz’s friend Dev has invented a semi-successful hangover spell and it’s better than nothing. We feel sober enough.

Leaving is bittersweet. It’s always difficult to get together like this with everyone living in different countries, but we make it work. Besides, we’ll all definitely see each other at New Year’s. There is a party at the club. My grandma and uncle attend every year. We didn’t join them last year since it was all too fast, but now we’re ready.

(Hopefully. A lot of people are waiting for get a glimpse of me.)

Baz and I take the long way back to the Salisbury home. My grandma and uncle don’t know that Baz is a vampire and we’re keeping it that way. I want to know what happened at his aunt’s.

“She’s planning on marrying a vampire.”

“Uh. Okay?” I mean, after all, I am too. Not now. Not soon. But maybe after a couple of years, yeah, if it’s legal.

“A vampire, Snow.”

“Baz, I am dating a vampire.”

“You’re not getting it, Snow!” Baz bites out. I hate it when he talks like that, like I’m stupid for not knowing anything about the World of Mages. But I also know that Baz’s vampirism is a sore subject. That, and his father.

(I still remember how he acted during Christmas last year when we were at his parents’ house. He wasn’t himself. I told him that I don’t like him when he’s like that.) (That’s why I am not going with him this year.)

“Calm down, babe,” I say, “Explain it, then.”

I wait for him to calm down, but every time he tries to talk, he gets fed up again. But he tries. He knows that I don’t like the way he acts.

We walk in circles for half an hour and Baz tells me everything about his aunt and this vampire called Nicodemus Petty.

“Well, did you give her the ring?” I ask when he’s done.

“No, it’s in Salò.”

I let out a huff of air. “I know I might be biased, but why don’t you give it to her? Her mind seems made up. Are you really going to stop them from declaring their love because you don’t agree to the way they live?”

“This is not a gay rights issue, Snow.”

“I’m not saying that it is,” I say. I am aware of gay rights issues. I am also waiting for Italy to legalise marriage equality, which will probably take ages. At least we have civil unions now. “And I am also not saying that you are similar to a homophobe that prevents us from marrying, but I am saying that I am a romantic and I don’t see anything wrong with marrying a vampire.”

“A vampire, Simon,” Baz says indignantly, “A bloody vampire.”

“Hah! Bloody!” I laugh, but I quickly compose myself when I see the look on Baz’s face. I cough. “Sorry. Not funny.”

“My mother would never allow this to happen,” Baz grumbles. I don’t think he wanted to say that out loud, because he looks at me with a pained expression when he sees me staring.

We’ve been over this many times. Baz’s constantly wondering what his mother would’ve thought of him. Last Christmas, when Fiona told us to defile his parents’ bed, Baz asked Fiona how his mother felt about gay people. That’s when I realised that most of his contempt towards himself comes from his mother.

(Fiona said that she didn’t know. They never talked about it, so Natasha didn’t have anything positive to say, but also didn’t have anything negative to say.) (I told Baz to cling to that. His mother never said anything bad about his sexuality.)

Natasha Grimm-Pitch is dead. Still, Baz and Fiona live their lives according to her values. Well, Baz still does. It looks like Fiona’s forged her own path.

We’ve stopped walking and Baz looks absolutely devastated.

“This isn’t about Fiona,” I say, “This is about you.”

I give him a big hug and he shakes in my arms. I know it’s bad to speak ill of the dead, but I really want to kick Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s arse right now.

--

BAZ

I know I told my mother that I was going to live as I am and that I knew that she wouldn’t be happy, but that I am going to carry on anyway. I still go back to the catacombs to talk to her, but when I graduated Watford, I knew that a part of my life had ended.

Maybe I am not okay after all.

Last December I realised that I am struggling with internalised homophobia more than I let on (Thanks father!) and this December I am realising that I am struggling with internalised anti-vampirism more than I let on (Thanks mother!).

Parents really fuck up their children when they have the chance.

I always told myself that I am different from real vampires. I am a mage first and foremost. Vampires like Nicodemus are scum and terrible and they deserve to die. They kill innocent people. They killed my mother. (They killed me.)

But maybe a part of me still sees myself as scum and terrible and deserving to die. After all, I am still a vampire.

Simon tries to tell me that it’s not a bad thing. My vampirism saved him and Ms. Snow when The Mage attacked them. And yes, I find some solace in that, but it doesn’t take away the fact that I am an undead monster. I still won’t let Simon see me as I feed.

I am better than most vampires, but I am still one of them.

And now Fiona wants to marry one. I don’t even know this Nicodemus Petty and I can’t ask around. No one is allowed to even speak of him. That’s what happens to vampires. Not only that, but he left on his own terms. He wanted to cross over.

Ma che cazzo.

Simon and I walk back to the Salisbury house in silence. I am still crying when we arrive.

Simon gives me a small smile before opening the door with the key. (Yes, Lady Ruth has given him a key.)

“We’re back!” he calls out, “They loved the butter cake!”

Then he turns to me. He cups my face.

“Take some time for yourself. I’ll amuse the others.”

I love him. I nod and I go upstairs. The Salisbury home isn’t as big as the Pitch estate in Hampshire, but it’s still big, especially for a townhouse in London. Lady Ruth sleeps in the master bedroom, Jamie and Ms. Snow have childhood bedrooms of their own, and there are two guest rooms. Simon and I are staying in one of them.

On my way to the guest room, I hear a door open. Ms. Snow emerges from her room.

“Ah, I thought I’d heard Simon,” she says before taking a good look at me. She frowns when she sees me. “Merlin, Basilton, what is up with you?”

“My aunt,” is all that I say.

“What happened?”

I shake my head, but then I realise something. There are only two other mages that can easily leave the World of Mages behind and break its rules. One of them is Agatha, the other one is Ms. Snow. Agatha wasn’t alive when Nicodemus crossed over, but Ms. Snow was.

I look around to check if we’re alone.

“Ms. Snow, do you know Nicodemus Petty?”

--

Ms. Snow’s room has been kept intact for the past two decades, so I am sitting in a room for a teenager, but I don’t mind.

“I know it’s against the rules to talk to vampires, but I am also talking to you, so I don’t care,” Ms. Snow says.

“True.”

“I can’t believe I’m not the only one who made a comeback,” Ms. Snow jokes lamely, but I still smile. Nicodemus Petty is lying low, unlike Ms. Snow, but the circumstances are different. “Nico, Fi and Ebb were a force to be reckoned with at Watford. It was big news when he crossed over.”

“But you know about it?”

Ms. Snow nods. “Oh yeah, I do. I had already cut myself off from my family and friends, but I was still in England. Davy came home to tell the news. He couldn’t believe it.”

Davy. The Mage.

“I can’t believe it either,” I say.

“And now he wants to marry Fiona Pitch?”

“No, Fiona Pitch wants to marry him,” I say. Fiona cast that silencing spell for a reason. “It’s ridiculous. My mother is probably rolling in her grave.”

Ms. Snow gives me a weird look.

“Is it ridiculous?” she asks, “Nico and Fi were definitely in love when we were all in school. It’s actually quite sweet that they found each other again.”

I can’t believe what I am hearing. Simon’s lack of concern can be chalked up to him not knowing what happened, but Ms. Snow doesn’t have that excuse.

“He murdered people, Ms. Snow.”

“Have you asked him that?”

“I- what?” I sputter out.

“You haven’t,” she points out.

“But I didn’t volunteer to get bitten!”

“And regarding your mother, well, I can’t speak for her, but I am a mother of a man who’s in love with a vampire and I have no problems with that.”

“But…” But I am different. I know I am. She knows that too. How can she so easily assume that Nicodemus might be different too? Fiona said that Nicodemus wanted power and he tried to find it there. How can we be the same?

“Of course, things could’ve changed. I only know the Nico from school. He was kind of an arse, always so cocksure of himself. He got into trouble a lot. But your aunt was like that as well. I liked her attitude. Do you trust your aunt?”

“No.”

“Fair. But maybe talk to her about this some more.”

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

How to hold a sword - Geralt of Rivia x Reader - Part 1 of 2

Summary: You are bored with your life and want more. Luckily, Geralt of Rivia visits the town one day.

Requested by: @just-antiyou “could i request a geralt x reader where the reader is slightly wealthy but hates it and wants to be tougher than she looks so she hites geralt to teacher her and he slowly falls for her but she doesnt comprehend why HER? maybe this made no sense im so sorry i love ur writing pls an thank u stay safe” --> Hope you like it! I decided to make two parts out of the story! <3

Words: 2030 Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x fem!Reader Warnings: none

„Stop wasting my time. “

 „Come on! I can pay you!”

 “Sure you can.”

 “Yes! Don’t you believe me?”

 “Stop bothering me and go home.”

 “I have coin! Here!”

 Finally, the Witcher turned around when he heard the rattling of the coins in your small bag as you held it up. He quickly grabbed your hand, forcing it down. “Are you mad or do you enjoy the idea of being robbed,” he scolded you.

He was right. You were standing in the middle of a busy street, merchants and farmers passing you by as they made their way home from the market. The sun was already beginning to set and the first drunks stumbled out of the tavern to your right. Two working girls shrieked when a man fell against them, landing face down on one of the their bosoms, and angrily pushed him away.

 You let the small bag slip back into the pocket of your coat. “I have coin!”, you repeated yourself.

 “Where’d you get that?”, he demanded to know. “Did you steal it?”

 You snorted. Asshole. “My family owns half the town. Did you not recognize this?!” You pointed at your necklace with the family emblem brightly visible.

 His eyes only grazed shortly over it. “I’m not from here.”

 “Right, because you’re Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher, a famous one – so give me one reason why you would decline my offer?”

 “Teaching spoilt girls how to hold a sword is not in my job description.”

 “First of all,” this time you pointed your finger at him. “I’m not a girl, I’m a woman, so start treating me like one! And secondly, as far as I’m concerned, there is no monster to kill for you at the moment.”

 “There’s always monsters to kill.”

 “Witcher!” A frustrated sigh escaped your mouth. What was his problem?

 Geralt looked at you intensely, his eyes wandering from your face to your pocket, where the coins were stowed, back to your face. He pondered about what the offer would truly mean – letting another person come too close to him rarely resulted in anything good. People around him tend to end up hurt or heartbroken or dead. The last person to experience this had been Jaskier. Years of traveling together and it ended in Geralt chasing him away, blaming him for things that weren’t his fault. This happened a few years back and since then, the two of them had rekindled their friendship, but still. His point remained unchanged.

 However, this could be different. You didn’t seek him out to become friends. It was nothing more than a job. Not to mention that your comment about him not having anything better to do at the moment was true. He could really use the coin. Before Geralt was able to rethink this, he wiped his eyes in a tiring and annoyed matter. “Fine.”

 Your face lit up instantly and a big smile appeared on it. “Yes? Oh thank you!”

 “Ten days.”

 “That’s a good start!”, you exclaimed happily.

 “It’s not a start, it’s all I’m offering,” he corrected you. Were you always this cheerful or just when you got your way? “What do I get out of it?”

 “Three coins for each day.”

 The Witcher raised an eyebrow. There was far more in that bag of yours and you both knew it. “Eight.”

 “Four.”

 “Seven.”

 “Witcher!”

 “Six then.”

 “Five.”

“Deal,” he nodded.

 Your smile grew even wider. “Thank you! This is fantastic!”

 The only acknowledgment you got for that statement was a low grunt. He wasn’t so sure about it being a fantastic idea. “Meet me here tomorrow when the sun rises. Do you own a sword?”

 He let out a sigh when you shook your head. “Of course you don’t. Doesn’t matter. Tomorrow, when the sun rises! Understood?”

 “Understood!”

 ***

 You arrived early the next morning. The excitement for the days to come was too overwhelming so after hours of tossing and turning and occasionally falling into a half slumber, you decided to cut the night short.

 You nervously looked around you. Despite the late (or rather early) hour, the street was buzzing with people. Mostly drunks but no less intimidating. It was the second time you visit this part of the town as your mother would forbid you to come here. “It’s a dangerous place,” she always said, “nothing to find there except for criminals and whores.” Observing the people around you, she might had a point.

 Growing up in one of the richest families of the town was a blessing and a curse at the same time. Nothing seemed to be missing from your life – dresses and jewelry, parties and royal receptions – everything was there in arm’s reach. You never had to work a day in your life and never went to bed on an empty stomach. Still, you were unhappy. You were born into this world with no purpose. All you had to do was look pretty, agree to a beneficial marriage and produce heirs. Your father didn’t allow you to be something else, something more. You never asked for much, knowing he’d deny your requests, except for learning how to fight and defend yourself. It was a simple desire but you hoped it would give you something. What, you weren’t sure. A purpose maybe? Indubitably, he refused you.

 A sense of guilt and shame rushed through you. It happened every time as you were aware that the problems were nothing more than luxurary at best. After all, what gave you, a privileged girl with no troubles, the right to complain when there were people starving and dying?

 “Well, ‘ello there, aren’t you a pretty one.”

 You shrieked at the slurring words coming from your left. A man, smelling of beer and piss, reeled towards you. A disgusted look on your face, you took a step back.

 “What’s that face, pretty one? Don’t cha think I’m pretty too?”

 “Fuck off!”

 A second voice made you turn around in surprise. Geralt of Rivia was standing in the doorway of the tavern, glaring at the drunk. Even in his current state of mind, the man sensed that Geralt wasn’t someone he wanted to bother, so he spit out undefinable curses and stumbled away.

 “Thank you,” you said to the Witcher. He looked different this morning. Rested and bathed, you figured and realized his attractiveness for the first time since you met him. Last night you were more focused on convincing him to train you. Tall, broad, with his glooming golden eyes and white hair that fell loosely on his shoulders – only a blind person could deny his good looks.

 Geralt eyed you up and down. “Now why would you wear that?”

 You furrowed your brows in confusion and looked down at your blue dress and fine cloak that hugged your figure. “What?”

 “You want to learn how to fight, am I wrong?”

 “No, you’re not.”

 “And you’re gonna do that in a dress?”

 “I’ve seen women fight in dresses.”

 “But not in fucking ball gowns.”

 “This is not a ball gown!” You protested.

 He rolled his eyes and started walking. “Whatever, come on. We have a long day ahead.”

 You followed, struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t seem to care all that much. “Why do you sleep here?” You pointed back to the run-down pension.

 “What do you mean?”

 “With the money I’m paying, you can afford better … places.”

 “I like it here.”

 “You like sleeping around these creatures?”

 Geralt didn’t answer instead he shot you a glance that made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You knew exactly what he thought in this moment – he probably regretted taking the job and dreaded the fact that he was stuck with a spoilt girl like you for the next days. You didn’t blame him.

 You couldn’t have known on this day but you were wrong. Geralt didn’t have any regrets – not yet however. He saw you as spoilt, yes. He also recognized your will to change – or else you wouldn’t have come to him in the first place.

 ***

 One hour later and Geralt finally stopped in his tracks. You were more than thankful as your feet already started to hurt. The two of you had left the town far behind and had now reached a small clearing in the woods.

 With a sigh you sat down and leaned against a tree. Geralt kept his gaze on the ground and walked around the clearing, looking for something.

 You watched him. There was certainly something about that Witcher with his tall figure, white-hair and brooding looks. Only a blind woman would deny that. For a brief moment, you wondered if he had a companion or a consort, so to speak. What kind of woman did he desire? You had heard rumors about a mage he had taken as his lover. So probably powerful woman, fighters, he didn’t need to worry about protecting.

 “Here,” a stick landing in front of you catapulted you back into reality.

 You looked at the stick and back at Geralt. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

 “Fight,” only then you noticed a second branch, resting in his hand.

 “With a stick?”

 “Yes.”

 You grabbed it and got up in the same movement. “I’m not a child, I won’t play with sticks,” putting some force behind your words, you looked at him intensely.

 His face didn’t falter. “What do you suggest instead?”

 “A sword. I want to learn how to fight with a sword.”

 “You’re not ready.”

 “We only have two weeks though, we need to speed up this whole process,” you argued.

 “You’re not ready.” He repeated sternly.

 You kept staring at him, realizing that you wouldn’t win this argument. A sigh left your lips. “Fine.”

 A small smile appeared on his face. “Great. Let’s get started.”

 *** The first training was an absolute disaster. You were convinced that you spent the most time on the ground, face-down in the mud – the rest of the time you got your ass kicked. The exhaustion you felt when you were back in the tavern with torn clothes and leaves in your hair came close to nothing you ever experienced in your life.

 Geralt sat next to you, happily eating his piece of chicken, looking like he had just returned home from a lazy and relaxed day out of town.

 “You should eat something,” he said in between bites.

 You looked down at your plate where the food remained untouched. “I’m not hungry.”

 “Yes, you are.”

 As if your stomach wanted to agree, a low growl was heard.

 Geralt smirked but didn’t comment.

 “Fine,” you admitted. “I’m starving.”

 “But?”

 “Everything hurts.” It was true, you felt too exhausted to take one bite out of the meat.

 He shrugged. “Of course it does. You’ll get better though.”

 “I don’t think so,” you sighed. “Did you see me today?!”

 “I’ll tell you what,” Geralt said with a chuckle. “I promise that you’ll be able to fight and win against Jaskier by the end of this.”

 “Is he a good fighter?” You asked with narrowed eyes.

 “He’s not too bad.”

 “What if I lose against him?”

 “You’ll get your coin back.”

 “Deal.” You nodded in contently. Then you added after a brief moment: “Wait, who’s Jaskier?”

 “He’s traveling with me,” Geralt simply answered and took a sip from his beer mug. “You’ll meet him tomorrow. He knows people from this town.”

 Jaskier. You were curious about the kind of person a Witcher spent his time with when he wasn’t away, hunting beasts. Was he as calm and collected as Geralt? Always so serious?

 Another growl came from your stomach and you looked back at the plate. Well, maybe not eating at all would be a worse decision. After all, there were nine more days filled with exhaustion ahead of you. Slowly, you reached down to grab one of the chicken legs and bit into it.

 Geralt watched you carefully and a very small part of him began to like the idea of having to spend more dinners with you in the next days. Of course, he’d never admit it. Not even to himself.

***

My Masterlist

My Tag List: @just-antiyou​ , @sarah-midnight​ , @aspiring-ginger​ , @seb-owns-these-tatas​

Message me if you want to be added to my tag list <3

[essays-for-breakfast]

Let the Time of Separation Disappear

Kiane Week Day One: Touch/Feel

This group thing was a terrible idea. The Seven Deadly Sins – more like the seven daily prayers King sent to the Sacred Tree to put an end to this madhouse. No matter how skilled the individual fighters might prove in combat – and King had his doubts about at least two of the four oddballs in this matter –, they would not function as a unit. The afternoons he spent trapped in the community quarters high up in Liones castle demonstrated this point with such emphasis, he might laugh. That is, if he hadn’t felt so miserable.

On the rare occasion that the Mage, Merlin, showed herself, she would levitate in a corner of the room, smile to herself, and watch the disaster unfold. She played the group without the need of a single word, and King did his utmost to turn invisible whenever she teleported into their midst. But the Captain, Meliodas, would always shatter his efforts by showering everyone on the team with a disgusting excess of liquor only humans could find amusing. 

And unfortunately, ‘everyone’ included King.

The third of the bunch, Gowther, did nothing much at all. He sat on the floor in his clunky armor, took away space, and sometimes speed through a book Merlin handed to him in about a minute. The mere thought of gluing his eyes onto a piece of manufactured wood filled with this many words gave King a headache.

And no, the alcohol was not responsible this time. Although the sight of Gowther’s untouched mug on the floor did produce a foul taste on his tongue. King hurried to open the nearest window, and swallowed a lungful of oxygen. A bit better. Even though the air circling around the human castle lacked the scents of nature, of conifers and pollen and grass heavy with morning dew.

“What’s the matter, King, you gotta throw up?”

King craned his neck to throw a death glare at the owner of the voice.

Ban was by far and away the worst. If a single human existed to whom King liked to demonstrate the deadly capabilities of his Sacred Treasure more than Aldrich, Ban would make for the ideal candidate. Careless, loud, rude, followed by the stench of alcohol wherever he went, and overall, the most human-like human King had had the displeasure to meet. The day he would fight alongside this man would without a doubt bring about the end of Britannia.

“I would have rather stayed in my cell,” King said with a pleading look in Meliodas’ direction.

“Too late. I got’cha out of there, so you owe me your eternal loyalty. Although I might free you from your debt if ya take another drink and relax. I’ve got good news this time.”

Gowther looked up from his book with a teeth-clattering shriek of his helmet. “Does this mean you have found one of our missing members?”

Meliodas grinned. “Bingo.”

“Nooo!” King buried his face between his hands. “Not another one. I won’t take another.”

The only hinderance that had so far saved him from the dreaded field missions as a special order of King Bartra’s Holy Knights with a special talent for lacking any resemblance of teamwork, had been their shortage of numbers. According to Bartra’s vision, seven knights would unite against an unnamed great threat. King’s lucky streak had not only pushed him into the spotlight as one of these seven, it had also chosen the worst people as his teammates. And he had little hope that the Sins of Envy and Pride would upset the trend once they showed up.

Meliodas wiggled an accusing finger in the air. “Now, now, King, you have to give her the opportunity to win you over. I met her by chance before she was sentenced. She’s a nice girl. And her grilled pork tastes far better than mine.”

“That’s a low standard to beat.” Ban robbed across the lavish carpet – the pelt of a white hound-like creature if King had to guess – and put an arm around the Captain’s neck. “I’ve never tasted worse food than yours!”

“Well, it’s not like cooking’s a revered skill where I come from.”

“To return to your complaint, King,” Merlin said while hiding her intentions behind the rim of her wine glass, “I believe our newcomer will surprise you. You might find that you share more than a few things with her.”

Aha. Another one of Merlin’s cryptic messages. Did the Captain carry with him a dictionary on the way she shared knowledge in singular puzzle pieces to understand her? And could King borrow such a dictionary?

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said with a sigh.

Meliodas clapped his hands together. “Great! But we gotta go out to the yard to meet her. She’s a little shy.”

With crossed arms, King floated behind the others through the great halls of the castle. Cold stone atop of more cold stone, decorated with stone ornaments. A handful of knights passed them on their way towards the yard and stared at the group with a mixture of curiosity and hostility. Many a hand wandered towards the hilt of a sword, mace, or spear. King could handle the glares, as a Fairy, he had earned a plethora of glances and hushed comments from his prison guards throughout the past two hundred years. His human form did little to divert suspicion, after all, he hobbled behind an armored colossus, a drunkard, and a blond child. But what unnerved King far more was the fact that he would soon have to collaborate with these human knights and fight their war. Last time he had been forced to kill, his hand hadn’t stopped trembling for days on end.

King bumped into Ban when the latter stopped dead on the doorstep towards the yard. The string of curses he planned to hurl at Ban died in his throat, suffocated by the sight of his newest teammate. She reached thirty feet above the cobblestone, her head blocked the sun, and she refused to dissolve after one, two, four hacked breaths that escaped King’s mouth like whimpers.

She hadn’t changed one bit. Of course, she had grown in these two hundred years, the shape of her body had become more defined with added curves, but she still wore her hair in pigtails, she still shuffled her right foot over the ground, and she still hid her face behind brown locks when none of the other Sins raised their voice to greet her.

Her eyes, a shade of violet more intense than any forget-me-not – the same.

Her hands, strong and dirt-stained and able to form clay into fantastical figures – the same.

Her voice when she mumbled a “Hi, guys” into her hair – the same.

The world turned upside down and shrunk, King’s vision and his sense of smell narrowed until no one but her existed, her and a cave and a field of flowers he had called home. She had survived – what had led her here? Did she remember? No, of course not, the spell King had woven had plucked every last hint of him from her memory. But she still stood here, presented to him as his teammate. They could spend their time together like they had used to – but they would fight in a war together. She might get hurt, she might be forced to kill, she might see the failure he was, a killer who didn’t hesitate to end his best friend’s life. Even if the universe had worked its magic to make her remember him… wouldn’t she hate him? For abandoning her?

Ban smacked his elbow into King’s ribs. “Will ya say hi to her already? Otherwise my feet are gonna freeze to the ground.”

What? Had any of them talked? Had Meliodas introduced her already? King turned towards the Captain for help, but he only offered a knowing grin that matched Merlin’s expression to a T.

She extended a hand towards King, the skin covered by tiny scars from a life in the wild. “The name’s Diane.”

“Harle- You can call me King.”

“Nice to meet you, King.” The smile she gifted him was ripped right out of his memories, untainted by the two hundred years of separation.

And when he placed a trembling hand against her outstretched finger, every moment that had withered and lost its gleam in the darkness of his prison cell returned to him, and they were kids again. The games of tag, the stories she told him, the anecdotes about plants he shared with her, the sound of her laugh, the smell of grilled pork, the warmth of her body next to him when they slept.

All of this and more overwhelmed King at the touch of Diane’s skin. The sweaty palm of his human form against the softness of her fingertip, so close that he felt the individual grooves and bumps of her skin.

His heart might have well run away and forgotten to beat when Diane leaned forward. “We wouldn’t happen to know each other, right? Something about you feels familiar… I can’t put my finger on it.”

“W-where could we have met?” King blinked against the sting in his eyes. Probably dust. Yeah, definitely dust. “I’m sure you’re imagining it. You can find a face like mine all around human towns, right Captain?”

“Sure, but most of those folks can’t fly.”

“I always wondered about this,” Ban said. “But I’ve had at least two… three… five bottles of ale, so I can’t trust me ears or my eyes anymore. Speaking of, with our sixth member tracked down, the evening calls for a celebration! Captain, you wouldn’t happen to have more of that Vanya Ale stocked somewhere?”

Meliodas grinned. “I’m one step ahead of you. You’ll join too, right Diane?”

“How could I decline when you’re the one asking?” Diane winked at the Captain, but by some miracle, her eyes found their way back to King. “Still, I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before. It’s like a memory from long ago I can’t quite reach.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” King said. “People can imagine the most wonderous things when they’re dreaming.”

But he remembered. He remembered all of it, all the moments, the conversations, and the quiet togetherness Diane had forgotten. And on this day and throughout the next five years King stayed beside her. He found excuses to touch her, hand her a drink, brush her arm when floating next to her, high-five her after a successful mission. Her skin against his skin for the briefest of moments.

So that at least one of them remembered.

[siren1song]

So ya know how I was feeling really angry yesterday? I wrote this to cope with that.

Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @izzynuggets, @another-sandersidesblog, @nonbinary-royaltea, @strawberryjellystuff, @hickory-dickory-doc-k, @remusownsmyuwus, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @demidork84, @gr3ml1n-loser

Coming Unglued

Virgil didn't like getting angry. Hated what it did to him when he did get heated. Usually he tried to keep better control of himself and his emotions. Tried not to let his magic grab hold of his emotions and do whatever it pleased in response to them.

But occasions like this when someone was threatening the safety of someone he loved? He really couldn't care less. Didn't give a single damn that while storming into prison lightning seemed to arc off his heels with every lift of his foot. There wasn't a single fuck in him when he waved his hand at an attacking prison guard and a strong gust of wind threw him into the stone wall.

The thing about Virgil when he was angry, his storm magic was most prominent. Lightning and wind and rain were all at his fingertips when he was furious enough to lose his ability to care about hurting people.

He'd probably regret it later, but right now when he had a man wrongly imprisoned for crimes he didn't commit to save from slaughter the only thing Virgil regretted was not taking action sooner.

"Someone alert the ward!"

Virgil snarled, reaching a hand out towards the first guard that tried to run off and yanking backwards, wind following the action and forcing the man on his back. Before he could get back up, anger flared in his chest and lightning surged from the air and snapped against the man's chest, the smell of burnt flesh filling the air as the fabric of his clothes caught fire.

Another guard ran off, but before Virgil could stop him the other guards surrounded him.

"Stop! You're under ar-"

The guard who called the initial order to get the warden was cut off by Virgil throwing his hand in his direction and lightning shooting from his fingertips.

He stood his ground, though he screamed at the agony of the burning electricity enveloping him.

More guards approached him, and Virgil let out an angry growl as their own shadows shot to wrap around their ankles, making several come to a sudden stop and a few fall to their knees.

“He’s a dark mage!”

Virgil really isn’t. He’s just angry, and trying to get to the man he loved and get him out of prison just because he was accused of dark magic for being a scientist.

Logan didn’t even have any magic. Not like Virgil did.

A guard swung his sword at him, and he jerked back. Not fast enough though, there was still a cut going from his shoulder to his chest. Blood stained his clothes, cotton fabric soaking and clinging to his skin.

He let out an angry, pained scream and a gust of wind tangled with shadows burst from him, scattering the men surrounding him and sending them to the ground.

With everyone on the ground, some bleeding due to impact with his hardened shadows, others regaining their breath, Virgil took advantage of the distraction and continued his way into the prison.

The second he was inside, truly inside underground where the cells were, deafening silence crushed Virgil. His chest felt tight and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t let himself panic now. There was still a lover to get out of here.

“Logan?” Virgil called, his voice strained, shaking as he struggled to keep up his anger, keep the one thing that was preventing him from running out of steam, from feeling the pain in his shoulder, from panicking at the enclosing stone walls.

There was no answer. He was further in, and Virgil would have to go even further.

“Fuck everyone’s paranoia over magic,” he growled.

Though his voice was angry, his steps were uneven and lightning no longer arced off his feet.

Until he found Logan’s cell, and Logan was bruised and bloody and barely able to hold his head up when he called for him.

Virgil’s anger flared, but he tamped it down long enough to shape a shadow into a lockpick and start working on the cell door.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, Lo. I promise.”

“Oh, you promise, do you? Careful not to say things you can’t follow through on.”

Virgil stiffened, turning to face the prison warden and snarling when he saw the face of a man he had hated since childhood.

“Oh, Virgil! It’s you. I should have recognized the empty promise and reckless magic,” Nathim said, cruel smile twisting his face into something ugly.

“Nathim. You of all people know better than Logan being a mage,” he snarled, his anger mounting up into fury until his voice started doubling on itself.

The man sighed, pulling his arms from behind his back as he held a ball of dark light in his hand.

Virgil struggled to stay in place. Recognizing the ball as plague magic he’d used on his mother when Virgil refused to go with him. If that magic touched him or Logan they’d immediately collapse sick with the plague that Nathim was slowly unleashing on the town.

“Oh I know. I just… missed you I supposed. I figured I’d bring you by for a visit.”

Shooting to his feet, Virgil snarled. Lightning and wind and shadows started swirling around him, but when Logan let out a pained groan, he forced himself to calm down enough for his magic to pull away from him.

“That’s right, Virge. Calm down that magic you clearly still haven’t learned to control so you won’t hurt Logan.”

Nathim seemed to relish in Virgil’s struggle to restrain himself so he wouldn’t hurt his lover.

...That didn’t necessarily mean Virgil couldn’t do anything though.

“Why the hell have you popped up now? It’s been six years since your last pathetic attempt at getting me to join whatever rule the country plot you had cooked up,” Virgil asked, flexing his fists as he glared at the dark mage.

Nathim sighed, staring at the plague magic he held in his hand and playing with the ball of dark light.

“Like I said, I missed you Virgil. Surely you recognize how powerful you are? You could do great things with the kind of magic you have.”

Virgil scoffed, digging his nails into his palms to keep a tight control on his magic.

“And I told you when you first made that argument I don’t care. I’d rather live my life quietly, Nathim. Stop fucking that up.”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s ruining your dreams of a quiet life? You killed two men on your way in here, Virgil. If you even want to think about safety after that you’ll have to leave the town entirely, and even then I’m sure the king wouldn’t want such a dangerous magic user running free.”

Virgil inhaled sharply at that, the reminder of why he hated getting angry like frozen water running down his spine. His control on his magic wavered, but one look at the knowing grin on Nathim’s face ignited his rage again.

“Get fucked, Nate,” he snapped, and then a shadow he’d been working on strengthening and feeding lightning into during the whole conversation struck forward, shooting through Nathim’s chest.

The plague magic in his hand abruptly went out, and Virgil felt a sick satisfaction in seeing the surprise on Nathim’s face as he looked at the shadow.

Virgil’s shadows were never tangible enough to pierce through so much flesh and bone, at most they could do the damage of a dull blade. But he’d fed lightning into that one, so the sight of Nathim collapsing from electricity coursing through his insides was not a surprising one.

He wasn’t sure if Nathim was dead, but at the moment he didn’t care. Virgil just wanted to get Logan out of the cell and work on bringing him somewhere safe.

There was a healer his mom used to be friends with before she died. Virgil remembered playing with his son on their visits, and they lived just outside the kingdom. If he didn’t stop to rest, he might be able to make it to see Patton and his father in two or three days.

As Virgil got the cell door open and crouched next to Logan so he could pick him up carefully, he figured that one thing Nathim got right was that he would be on the run for a long time.

He didn’t care though. Not right now when he had to get Logan to the healer and make sure he was okay.

“Virgil?” Logan groaned, and Virgil shushed him, giving his lover a small smile.

“Get some sleep, Lo. I’ve gotta get you to a healer, we’ll be there in no time.”

Logan hummed and nestled himself into Virgil’s chest.

God he loved this man. Let’s just hope he’d still love him, when he finds out what Virgil did to get him out of there.

(If Virgil had the ability to look into the future, he’d see that Logan would never stop loving him, no matter what.)