#He's just too nice and White Mage prefers him as a friend

[bigbossmaker]

Fighter's Class Upgrade gave him a crown/tiara thingy that was supposed to look like horns. So in the SWAP AU, they obviously made fun of him looking like a princess.

The superbuddies are aboutta kick someone's ass in this pic. And then Black Mage'll probably say something stupid leading to Fighter punching him. It's okay, he makes squeaky toy noises!

SWAP Vs Kary, but it looks cool? (It obviously wouldn't be as cool lookin', but I wanted to draw this.

Hubby was into Deadplate so I doodled this-

[watevermelon]

Tease | Venti (Genshin) x Reader (NSFW)

✧ Summary: Venti wielded his appearance like weapon, pouting his bright puppy-like eyes at you whether on the battlefield or the bedroom. There was something about the Archon that moved you to play along, at least not until tonight.

➳ Tags: some semi-public teasing and eventually fluffy sexytimes; Venti is a teasing lil shit; LOTS of humor and most of the Mondstadt characters show up ➳ Navigation

—xXxXxXxXxXxXx— One of the lessons you learned very quickly in your relationship with the Anemo Archon was that Venti was a teasing lil shit. 

Venti loved you — there was no doubt. But his mischievous side popped up in almost every avenue of your time together. When fighting hilichurls or hunting down abyss mages, all it took was a bat of his eyelashes and you were ready to wield a sword on his behalf.

He played on his appearance heavily — puppy dog eyes gazing up at you no matter what the conversation was about. It was easy to look at him and think he was a humble bard who enjoyed a glass of fine wine. Instead of the thousands of year old God who had the power of wind at his mercy.

All it took was a couple smiles and nicely placed laughter and Venti knew he had you under his spell.

And you were even aware of it, the asshole.

Presently, the original Dvalin team had gathered together in Mondstadt. Diluc was hosting again, the bar open even though he grumbled multiple times. Plates of food were displayed on the main table as Barbara and Mona perused the feast, Paimon right alongside them. You were altogether celebrating a time of true peace, one that Jean had called after both Venti and Dvalin were finally long freed by your hands.

Even though your relationship was relatively new, it did not stop the weight of the promises you made to one another. Venti was well aware of your pursuit in finding your brother and you knew that there was nothing that could tie down the God of Freedom.

But that did not stop either of you from falling in love.

Venti took you on private dates where you glided high above the skies — the last time you ever flew this high was alongside your sibling. Your reminisced over solemn moments, Aether simply a memory as you poured out to Venti your past. He would pull you close as you recalled, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he comforted you. And you gladly did the same, pulling Venti into a tight hug as he spoke about his time simply with the wind.

Your favorite moments were the quiet ones - like when Venti pulled you into your first kiss as a couple, smiling at you widely as you returned for more and more.

You cherished these moments when you were traveling, only Paimon at your side. Venti would join you sometimes as you explored the Liyue mountain ranges, but his responsibilities lay in Mondstadt. No matter how far you traveled, you made it work by returning back home to the Anemo Archon.

And now you were enjoying the night, sitting at one of the back corner tables as your friends mingled around the bar. You were sitting closer to the wall, Venti at your side while your favorite Outrider sat across from you.

Amber was discussing some of the adventures in the city, something that included slimes but was suddenly evading your memory when you felt a warm hand on your thigh.

You shot a quick, curious look in Venti’s direction, but the Archon was still focused on Amber in front of you. Not for the first time, you cursed your everyday attire, lots of skin on display despite being on the battlefield every day.

This was something Venti took plenty of advantage of.

His hand slid higher up your thigh and you swore that his happy expression only grew. Amber was none the wiser, continuing in her story as Venti’s hand ghosted over the fabric of your underwear. Your gaze flew to the rest of the party, plenty of other eyes that could catch you in the act.

But it seemed Venti could not care less.

His touch only grew bolder, index and middle finger rubbing against your clothed sex. You fought the urge to move into the motion, trying to focus back on the conversation and the woman in front of you.

But Venti knew your mind was anywhere, but here.

And so of course he had to tease you. 

“Don’t you agree that they should continue research by the temple in spite of the ruin guard?” Venti asked, mischievous eyes turning toward you and dragging you back into the conversation.

“Yes.” You answered back clipped.

“Really?” Amber questioned, genuinely curious.

“With the proper knights and if their envoy is careful enough…” You continued, but just as you paused Venti pulled the cloth fully aside to rub at your core. It took all your willpower not to stiffen under Amber’s direct attention, but you stuttered to complete your thought.

“Then…?” The Outrider continued for you.

You shut your eyes to remember, attempting to drown out the mischievous God alongside you. But it seemed you could almost hear the smirk Venti was shooting you. 

He had wasted no time in intimately joining with you the night prior, when you had officially returned back to Mondstadt. Almost every surface of his humble apartment was paired with a memory. And even then, it seems Venti could not get enough of you.

“Then they should be able to safely conduct their necessary research.” You finally finished your thought.

“Maybe you should join them next time.” Venti proposed as his fingers continued to play with your clit.

You couldn’t even deny the effects that he had on you — your essence starting to leak out in response to his touches. That was one of the things he loved about you — how eager you were for him in kind. Very rarely did you ever push him away and, if he pushed the right buttons, you would rise to his challenge later that night.

“Oh, you should! Nothing like the protection from our favorite honorary knight.” Amber replied with a genuine smile.

“It’d be my pleasure.” You responded, reaching for your glass to drown out your expression with wine. 

“Your pleasure indeed.” Venti murmured under his breath, loud enough only for you to hear.

Amber was called by one of the other Knight’s and she turned in her seat to face him. Her back was facing you now and you let you out a quiet, but incredibly long sigh. Venti’s expression could be compared to a lighthearted smile, but you knew that a smirk was underneath that forcibly innocent aura.

His fingers rubbed circles against your clit — his skin a wildfire against yours as you wet the seat beneath you. Venti shoved in his middle and index with little warning, pistoning them while the other partygoers lay innocent to his dirty deed. 

 “My love, if you continue to make that face then surely everyone here will know.” Venti murmured this against the skin of your ear for a second, before straightening back in his seat.

You tried your best to hide your impassioned look, but it was hard to do so when your lover was working directly against you. You felt this thumb rolling harshly on your clit while his fingers thrust in quickly. Trying deep breaths to hide your moans, Venti leaned down to kiss you on the lips proper.

You followed the motion immediately, chin lifting as you savored the feel of his lips against yours. The crease of your lips parted for him, Venti immediately licking at your wet cavern. He knew you completely and this included how to throw you right over the edge.

One of your hands grabbed at his arm and just as you were about to feel that sweet release, Venti pulled away entirely and sat back in his seat.

“Alright, lovebirds. No need to gloat your kissy face in front of the rest of us single people.” Amber’s voice cut through your thoughts and you blushed at her words.

“Hehe.” Venti giggled aloud, his laugh while usually endearing, was nothing but mocking toward you.

At least Amber did not catch more than kissing.

But just as you were relieved to have not been caught, you were annoyed that Venti had just teased you right to your breaking point. You turned to the Archon, but he was already looking at you.

Expecting a teasing smirk in place, you were pleasantly surprised to see the loving gaze he was throwing you. Venti instead grabbed your hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing the top as he maintained eye contact with you. 

It was hardly scandalous, but Amber still exclaimed. “Oh my god — just get married already!”

Venti laughed, but did not let go of your hand. At this point, while you were glad to see everyone again, you had one thing on your mind and it had much to do with what was leaking out of your sopping wet pussy.

But Venti was intent on celebrating tonight, drinking plenty of wine and shooting you looks over the rim of his glass. Different faces stopped at your table, Barbara exclaiming her greetings and Jean formally addressing the both of you. Kaeya flirted with you while Venti sat right alongside you, but hardly batted an eyelash when he was waved away by the Archon.

The hand holding yours squeezed once the Cryo user walked away. Venti leaned into you, kissing you on the nose before murmuring. “You’re mine; don’t forget that.”

You narrowed your eyes in response and gritted out in frustration, “Then why don’t you fill me up proper so I remember?”

“Hehe.” Venti chuckled before moving to whisper by your ear, “Don’t tell me you're still dripping wet with all these people around us?”

“You’re such a lil shit.”

“To think you’re so naughty.” Venti continued, crafting a sensual word picture through his words. The Bard too often used his powers against you. “Surrounded by all our friends and your main concern is the feel of my cock as I split you wide open.”

He was so smooth with his words, the same lips that poured out endearments was just as likely to light your nerves aflame.

“Tell me how hard you need me inside you.” Venti demanded, “Would my little minx prefer it if I painted your walls white tonight? Or are you so desperate for me that I should take you right here?”

“Venti—“

“Ah, not a good enough answer.” He cut off, “Looks like you’ll have to wait.”

And he sure as hell made you wait. Through stories and conversing with the rest, you were stuck at the bar until Diluc was finally shutting the lights off. You waved at Amber and the rest a warm goodnight, not at all gentle as you gripped Venti’s wrist and stalked in the direction of his apartment.

He openly laughed at your eagerness, but did not fight your grip.

The moment his door slammed behind the both of you, you were gripping at his clothes and throwing them off to his hardwood floors. Your mouth gravitated towards his — for once you were commandeering the lead tonight.

You pulled Venti towards his bedroom, open mouth kisses as you pulled him along. Once you were close enough, you practically pushed the poor man onto his own bedsheets. Your dress followed as a heap on the floor before you hovered over the Archon. You held a firm grip at his wrists, keeping his arms in place as you nipped at his neck and sucked dark hickies along his skin.

Venti was usually the one who took the initiative in the physical aspect of your relationship and for once, you were dominating the bedroom activities. After all, he had all the power to push you off, but Venti was relishing the way you lost yourself to the lustful passion.

Grinding your naked hips against one another, Venti openly moaned into the air. You just kept sucking at his skin, running down his chest before surfacing back upward. Running a playful tongue over each of his taut nipples, you loved the way Venti was gazing at you from beneath.

“I should make you have a taste of your own medicine.”

“Oh?”

“Should I bring you right to the precipice, my sweet bard?”

Venti smiled before challenging you, “I’d like to see you try.”

You licked your lips before trailing downward, a confident hand wrapping around his shaft. Giving only small kitten licks at the throbbing, pink head, Venti watched you as he folded his arms behind his neck.

To catch him off guard, you took a breath and downed his dick in one swallow. His dick poked at the back of your throat and you fought the urge to gag, your nose prodding against his skin. Venti’s voice broke the cool evening air as he moaned loudly, one hand reflexively carding through your hair.

You swallowed around him before pulling off his dick entirely, placing a small kiss on the head before repeating. Venti continually groaned at your rapidly deep pace, vibrations from your mouth only heightening his pleasure.

To think that you were so meek when you first started being intimate. You were hesitant to hold hands and never really had experience being like this with another person. Venti loved the fact that he was guiding you through it and was almost proud at how he was fully at your mercy now.

Even balls deep inside, you licked at the underside of his shaft and tried your best to swallow around him. He had to fight the need to curse, pleasantly surprised at how you were dominating the night. Venti planned on teasing you the entire time, but it was even better finally seeing you snap.

You felt his hips spasm in place and pulled off of him before he came, hearing a soft groan in response almost immediately.

Venti tried to guide you back to his dick, but you pulled off and shook your head at him, eyes latching onto his from your lowered position.

“You better finish this.” His voice held little patience.

Instead you smirked and shot back, “Like you did with me earlier?”

With little preamble, Venti wiped the smirk off your face by pulling you up and maneuvering into switched positions. You suddenly found yourself on your stomach as Venti aligned himself from behind, the only moment of reprieve was when he pushed in the head of his dick. He stewed there for a few seconds, giving you time to push him off if you did not want it, before thrusting himself all the way through.

You nearly screamed at the long impale, his shaft filling up your pussy as you gripped his bed-sheets tightly. Head shoved downward, you grinded your ass in tandem with his thrusts, a slave to your passion as you wanted to feel him in the most intimate way possible.

His pace ran wild, varying in speed and intensity with each thrust as if to keep you on edge. You felt one of his hand glide its way up your back, outlining your spine before he buried his fingers in your hair. His hold was not gentle, keeping you head down and ass up as he rut harshly against your ass.

His other hand snaked around your waist, returning back to the area that he had graced back at the bar. You tensed around him as he played with your clit, earning a harsh groan in response from the sudden tightness.

Venti leaned down to kiss at your neck, eager to mark those planes of skin as his alone. You expected to be fucked stupid, but he guided you onto your back in the next second.

“Look at me, taking you.” He instructed, connecting eyes with you before motioning down to where you were joined. “It was cute watching you try to take over tonight.”

It was becoming too much for you. Venti was attractive on multiple levels, but what really drew you to the bard was his way with words. And it seemed he picked up on that quickly, eager to whisper sweet nothing or even better, dirty words into your ears at almost any time.

You moans bounced off the walls, along with Venti’s mischevious words, mixed with the sound of skin slapping skin as his thighs continuously met your ass.

“Look at the way you grip me so good. Your sweet lips give such a good nectar, but I’ll get a better taste later.” Venti continued before leaning your foreheads together. “You’re mine.”

To think the God of Freedom was so possessive.

But it seemed he also wanted a response, from the way he kept staring into your eyes after.

“Always yours.”

He shot you a genuine smile in response, more sloppy, open-mouth kisses following as he continued to slap skin against skin. You folded your fingers behind his neck, trying to get any semblance of balance as you lost yourself to the feel of his glistening cock.

Venti continued whispering similar thoughts to you, receiving moans and labored agreements from you in response. He was very vocal during intimate times, which you absolutely loved hearing.

Formal words escaped you as Venti joined your hips together, moans pouring out in a reverence that the Archon cherished.

Taking advantage of your lost mental state, Venti asked. “Tell me, does my little minx want me to fill her up?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, pussy throbbing just at the thought of it.

You heard him swear under his breath, his hips faltering in rhythm as you both neared a similar end. Like a spring being quickly uncoiled, you felt the pressure in your lower stomach burst almost all at once. Clenching hard on his cock, you clawed into his back as he rubbed at a particular spot in your greedy pussy.

“Please!” You begged without direction, Venti following your hidden words as he all but slammed your hips together.

All at once, you felt your tight hole fill to the brim with your shared essence, walls finally painted white as you both finally reached your end. You felt like a puddle of bones on the bedsheets, Venti pulling you to his chest as he laid on his back.

Venti did not hesitate, kissing your forehead even as he struggled to gain his breath. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You replied, much more fatigued than he as you lazily pawed at his hair.

You were hardly equals but in moments like this, Venti made you feel like the most loved person in the world. He placed butterfly kisses along your neck — you could feel his smile on your skin.

“I’m always so grateful when you come home.” Venti continued, lips murmuring against your skin.

Home.

You started here as a simple traveler, without Mora to your name and not a single family member alive. But Venti and all the wonderful people of Mondstadt filled the hole in you heart.

You inclined upward to meet his lips and replied saying,

“I’m finally home.”

[druckkugelschreiber]

Dragon Age Regency AU (Loghain x OC)

Quick setting notes:

Teyrn are adressed with your grace

Their heirs apparent are Teyrness/ Teyrnessa 

Just a quick oneshot of a regency AU idea I had when I had my DA hyperfocus and Bridgerton at the same time. Nothing serious and not long enough to put on my Ao3.

Regency AU:

Loghain glared at the ballroom filled with old and young lords alike. Fresh faced debutantes looked for their match of the season. He as a widowed Teyrn shouldn’t be here. The only thing keeping the mothers and daughters from flocking to him was his bad reputation, but with his daughter on the throne and predictably a grandson on the way that would only help him so much in the coming months. 

I can’t believe I let Anora convince me to do this. But his daughter was right. He had to improve his reputation for his grandchild’s sake and the easiest way to do that -apart from winning the war against Orlais- was to be sociable. He doubted it would work. He had never been sociable. Maric had always been the charming one and Loghain had stood behind him glaring. 

Anora sat on her throne not far away and turned her own icy glare on him. Go and dance! It said. Even better go dance and find a nice young girl to marry, preferably one with a popular family. 

Loghain suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Not in front of court. 

As if summoned by the thought -he would not put it past one of these families to have a mage to do exactly that- a young woman appeared in front of him. It had to be her first season if her young age was to be any indicator. She had an empty hopeful face and he assumed she was pretty enough. Or maybe not considering she has come to speak to me. 

“Teyrn Loghain”, she bobbed a curtsy which he knew was perfect. That he even knew it was perfect pained the warrior part of him. The part of him that wanted to be back at the front. 

“My lady”, he said and watched the girl blush just from that. Maker give me patience! 

“Your grace, I have yet to see you mingle with the other guests”, the girl batted her eyelashes. “Are you not feeling well?”

He could basically feel Anora’s gaze burn into the side of his head. “Yes, I am quite well, my lady.” 

She beamed up at him. “Lady Arabella of West Hill, your grace.”

“It’s an honor”, Loghain managed to keep the sigh from his voice and graced the back of the young lady’s hand with a kiss. 

The girl seemed about ready to swoon. 

Very well. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her grin was wide and showed a row of perfectly white teeth. “Oh, of course, your grace!”

Loghain took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Years of fighting made his movements smooth and efficient. Anora and Maric alike had made sure he’d never forget his dance steps. He couldn’t make an embarrassment of the royal family after all. 

The girl evidently had been tutored all her life and despite her nervousness matched his steps perfectly. Not even the height difference brought her out of rhythm. 

She prattled away about this and that. All the gossip of the season he assumed. Loghain tried to be polite, though his attempts didn’t seem to entice the girl overly much considering she dimmed considerably during the dance and nearly fled in the opposite direction after it was over. 

Might as well. He should leave too. This was a fool's errand. He would never make friends with these people. None of them had been at the front recently. None of them realised they were still at war with Orlais even if the kingdom had been restored and the grant rebellion was twenty years over. 

Loghain turned around and made his way through the throngs of overdressed and heavily perfumed people. His fists flexed rhythmically, he scowled at a particular lord nearby who sneered back at him and something hit his chest. 

A soft feminie oof could be heard. Loghain’s head whipped around and he caught the woman by the waist before she could fall. 

Forest green eyes blinked up at him with the irritated quirk of an auburn eyebrow. 

“Apologies my lady”, Loghain said and made sure she was secure on her feet before he stepped back. 

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s your grace. One would think you would recognise a fellow Teyrn.”

He gave her a second look. The auburn hair, the freckles and slight upturn of her nose. “Teyrnessa Cousland?”

“The one and only”, she said. “Well maybe not quite the only.” Her lips quirked in a self-deprecating smile, making her forest eyes sharp as a thorn. 

“You appear to be in quite the haste”, Loghain said, observing the blush on her cheeks, but it certainly wasn’t from nervousness. There was no sign of it on her expression. 

“Well, I also appear not to be the only one in haste”, the teyrnessa actually smirked at him. It was so different from all the other demure ladies at court, he found himself caught off guard. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I hoped to escape the overwhelming scent of perfume”, Loghain found himself saying, he had never been one for playing games. 

She laughed lightly. It wasn’t the practised tinkling bell you used to hear around the ballroom. It seemed real. Loghain found himself immediately fascinated. “A perfectly reasonable endeavour. I wonder how many bottles of perfume they go through a day.”

Loghain snorted. Half in surprise at the sharp jest, half in actual amusement. “That we even still have perfume left at the end of the season is a wonder.”

“That the season ever ends is a wonder”, the Teyrnessa said with more dryness than he expected. 

“Considering the dances and balls do continue all year round, maybe it never ends.”

“The horror we have to endure”, she rolled her eyes. Then looked startled and quickly scanned her surroundings. 

In that moment the Teyrn Cousland and Teyrna Cousland entered. Teyrna Cousland was a sight to behold with long auburn locks just as her daughter and the same striking green eyes. Teyrn Cousland was a brunette man with broad shoulders and unimpressive features. His son Fergus looked much like the Teyrn himself. 

“Dance with me”, the Teyrnessa said with a sudden look of panic on her face. 

“Excuse me?” Loghain was once more entirely caught off guard and he hated it. It also usually didn’t happen. 

“Dance with me”, she said, not flinching away from his gaze. She held out her hand. There was a quiet challenge in her gaze. 

Loghain sighed inwardly. This dance probably wouldn’t be as bad as the last one and he would be able to avoid another argument with Anora. She was becoming more and more critical the further her pregnancy progressed. “Very well”, Loghain took the Teyrnessa’s hand and led her onto the dancefloor. “Will you tell me why you wish to escape from your family?” 

She chuckled. “I suppose I wasn’t exactly subtle. My parents are rather insistent that I find my match this year instead of running off on more adventures.” 

“And you do not wish to find your match this year?”

“I do not wish to be locked in a cage”, she scowled. It gave her face more expression and character than he had seen on any woman or man tonight. 

“That sounds awfully like you never wish to marry.” And he couldn’t blame her for it. 

“So you think one is always trapped in a cage when married?” she followed his steps with the same grace as all the other girls, though there seemed to be more force behind hers. 

Loghain frowned. “Many would say so.”

“I didn’t ask the many.”

“I think one can find a fitting match, so that marriage isn’t a cage but a ship to sail upon together.”

An astonishingly beautiful smile lit up her face. “That’s surprisingly poetic, considering most people say you are rude and cold.” 

“Do you usually believe what most people say?” 

“Not always, but there are usually some truths to rumours like that.” 

“And what do you think of certain other rumours about me?”

Her gaze became sharp again and darker. “All the people who started these despicable rumours have never been to the front themselves.”

Loghain nearly missed a step. “And you have?” 

“Yes”, she tilted her chin as if daring him to tell her that wasn’t appropriate for a lady such as her. 

“I’m surprised your parents would allow it.”

A mischievous grin tugged at the Teyrnessa’s lips, washing away the darkness from her eyes. “I know how to convince them.” 

Loghain felt like that was the first lie she told him tonight, but he couldn’t quite tell why. “Convince? I have never known Teyrn Cousland to be easily convinced of anyone.”

“Well, I am his daughter.”

“Yes, and quite frankly he would never let you go to the front.”

She glared at him and he dipped her to the music. She arched with grace that made him feel like a much younger man and he found himself enjoying the dance with her. Loghain pulled her back up and they resumed the dance. Her eyes seemed on fire. 

“What did you think of the front then?” Loghain asked. 

“What does one think of war?” she frowned. “It’s terrible. Unnecessary and the common men die for nobles who have never even seen their suffering.” 

Loghain fought hard to keep them on track to the music. What was it with Teyrnessa Caytlin catching him off guard? The music ended and he led her from the dancefloor still unsure of what to respond to her. 

“Caytlin”, Fergus appeared at his sister's side, he dipped his head to Loghain, “Teyrn Loghain, I’m afraid I have to talk to my sister.”

“Of course”, Loghain said and found his mood much improved.

Fergus dragged his sister away insistently murmuring into her ear. Teyrnessa Caytlin responded with a flare of temper, visible even from a distance. She glanced back at him with something he couldn’t quite decipher before turning back to her brother to snap at him. 

And for some reason Loghain found himself smiling.

[king-finnigan]

Geraskier prompt- geralt is in deep denial, and goes to a brothel and finds a mage who offers to give him a vivid vision his mind conjures up with his deepest desires for a few more coin. Geralt, intrigued, accepts and is blessed with none other that Jaskier and romance ensues. When geralt wakes up there’s major angst, then eventual fluff and smut :)

Despite what he always tells Jaskier, he really does enjoy the bard’s company. Sure, he never entirely shuts up, and if he does, he’s either humming or singing or tapping his fingers. It’s loud, and it’s annoying, and it took a long while for Geralt to get used to it, even longer for him to appreciate it. At some point, a few years ago, though, he realized he’d come to miss the bard whenever they’re apart.

Of course, that doesn’t stop him from parting ways with Jaskier every winter, Geralt going to Kaer Morhen to spend the coldest season with his brothers, Jaskier most often going to Oxenfurt. And while, yes, he does miss Jaskier during those long, dark months, he has his brothers to keep his mind off the bard - repairing the run-down parts of the keep, training in the courtyard, bickering and nearly beating each other up from time to time - so the winters aren’t too bad.

It’s those weeks in between that are the worst. Those weeks when he leaves Kaer Morhen and heads to the south-west, in search of Jaskier. It’s those weeks when it’s almost too quiet for his mind to bear, the silence sneaking up on him, making him feel lonely and slightly jumpy, making him wish he just had Jaskier back already, someone to keep his thoughts from spiralling downwards into self-hatred. 

Jaskier’s always been good at that: keeping Geralt sane.

A few weeks after setting out from Kaer Morhen, he passes through a large town in Redania called Inerith. He decides to check the notice board for any contracts - after all, he’ll probably need the money, at some point; he can’t live off his supplies from Kaer Morhen forever. It’s empty, which is a bit strange for such a large town, but he figures it’s just a quiet neighbourhood. 

Well, the notice board is empty, save for one sheet of paper. It’s an advertisement for the brothel, at the corner of the main street. It offers the reader their ‘deepest, darkest desires’. ‘For only sixty crowns more!’ it announces cheerily. Geralt scoffs at the notion, though there is a certain curiosity stirring in his stomach. He thinks for a second, about how it’ll take another few weeks until he reaches Oxenfurt, until he’s no longer alone.

He sighs, and heads to the corner of the main street. Sure, it won’t chase away his loneliness completely, but a warm body next to him might keep him from getting stuck in his own head for at least one night. And, admittedly, he is a bit curious to find out what his ‘deepest, darkest desire’ is. Probably a good talk with someone he trusts, or a nice ale. Jaskier crosses his mind for a fleeting second, but he pushes it away, nearly laughing at his own ridiculousness. Sure, the bard is a good friend of his, but nothing more than that - just a friend.

He stops in front of the brothel. It’s a very nice building, with white walls and a purple door, large windows tempting passerbys to look inside, yet there are purple curtains blocking everything from view. He sighs, heading inside, and is greeted immediately by the madame. She looks him up and down, head tilted slightly in curiosity. 

“I will not allow permanent harm to be done to any of my girls or boys, Witcher. And hurting them costs extra.”

He frowns. “I’m not seeking to do harm to anyone. I’m merely seeking someone to keep me warm.”

She nods, face relaxing slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for being so direct, but the rumours, you see...” Geralt nods. He knows about the reputation Witchers have, has had this talk with plenty of madames before. “So, a boy or a girl, tonight, Witcher? I might have to see who’s willing to bed you, but I think either can be arranged,” she continues, as she leads him to a spacious living room, filled with couches the same colours as the curtains, prostitutes lounging on them, casting curious glances in his direction.

It’s a good question, and he’s not really sure - he doesn’t really prefer one over the other. He looks at the covered windows, sees a hint of blue sky peeking out between two curtains, and without thinking twice, he says: “Boy.”

The madame nods. “Have you read about our special service, on the notice board?”

Geralt nods. “I have. What does it entail?”

She smiles at him. "A Mage will look into your mind, and conjure up a vision of your deepest desire, one you might not even know about yourself. It could look like an older person, or a younger person, or the hatefuck you’ve always wanted, or the person you’ve been too afraid to confess to. Of course, it’s just a vision, the whore stays the same underneath the glamour, but it’ll look and sound and feel like the real thing. Costs only sixty crowns extra, on top of the amount you already have to pay, of course.”

He stares at the wall behind her for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek, as he thinks. He’s not really sure what to expect, but he’s got the money and the curiosity, and he figures that if he doesn’t like it, he can always leave, so he turns his eyes back to the madame, nodding once.

She smiles. “That is arranged, then.” She snaps her fingers at a man with blonde hair and warm, brown eyes, laying on one of the couches. “Adrian, are you up for a Witcher, tonight?” 

The man- Adrian, stretches out, looking Geralt up and down for a few seconds, and the Witcher can smell a hint of lust trickling through the heavy perfume of the room. “Certainly am,” Adrian says, before standing up, sauntering over to Geralt, laying a hand on his chest. “He’s a fine one, this Witcher,” he mutters to the madame, and she nods in agreement. “So,” the whore whispers, leaning up a bit to meet Geralt’s eye, “did you take the special service?”

He swallows thickly, then nods, earning him a soft chuckle from Adrian.

“Curious to see what the big, bad Witcher desires most,” he purrs into Geralt’s ear, before stepping back, extending his hand, which Geralt takes. “Come on, big boy, let’s get you upstairs, shall we?”

Geralt follows Adrian up the stairs, towards one of the rooms. It’s spacious and quite luxurious, painted white, with a bed the same purple as the curtains downstairs, but Geralt doesn’t really pay attention to it too much. Adrian lets him in, but keeps the door open, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes hungrily taking Geralt in. “Just a minute, Witcher. Have to wait for the Mage, first.”

Well enough, a few seconds later, Geralt hears footsteps approaching them, a middle-aged man appearing in the doorway. The Mage rubs his hands together, pulling his eyebrows up at Adrian, who nods in confirmation. 

“Alright,�� the Mage mutters, extending his hand towards Geralt, palm flat, fingers slightly spread. “Ready whenever you are, master Witcher.” Geralt frowns, but steps closer, letting the Mage touch the side of his head with his fingers, before the man reaches out and holds on to Adrian’s shoulder. 

Suddenly, Geralt feels dizzy, and he squeezes his eyes shut, resisting the urge to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He gasps for air, his vision going white for a couple of seconds. The hand on the side of his head disappears, and he hears footsteps, before a door is closed softly.

He feels a gentle hand against his cheek, callouses on the fingertips, and it grounds him back into reality, calms him down. 

“Geralt, are you alright?” a familiar voice asks, and his eyes snap open. The Mage is gone, and so is Adrian. Instead, he sees Jaskier, blue eyes staring at Geralt with concern, his familiar scent of roses and lemon tingling in the Witcher’s nose. 

“Jaskier?”

“If that’s who you want me to be, then yes.”

He frowns, thoroughly confused, until he remembers what the madame had said. Sure, he may look, feel, and smell like Jaskier, but it’s not him - it’s still Adrian. But fuck, if it doesn’t seem so incredibly real - if it doesn’t seem like Jaskier is right there, in the room with him, like they never parted ways for the winter at all. He hadn’t expected the bard to be his deepest desire, but now that he’s here - now that it looks like he’s here - smelling of himself and arousal, Geralt can’t deny that he wants this, more than anything.

He contemplates running for the door, getting the hell out of here before he complicates the friendship he has with Jaskier, when Jaskier- Adrian, steps towards him, plastering himself against Geralt’s chest, lithe arms wrapping themselves around his neck. “How long, Witcher?” He even fucking sounds like Jaskier.

“Months,” Geralt replies, hands settling on Jaskier’s- Adrian’s hips off their own accord, and he feels warmth seeping into his skin. “It’s been months since we last saw each other.”

Jaskier- Adrian, godsdammit, tuts, nose brushing against Geralt’s. “Not what I meant, darling. How long have you wanted me?”

His breath catches in his throat when Jaskier’s lips brush over his. “Years,” he manages to choke out, before he pulls the bard closer, kissing him like he’ll die if he doesn’t - because it certainly feels like he will. Years of tension, of longing looks he wasn’t even aware he was casting, of secret dreams of the bard’s body against his, shattering as Jaskier softly moans into his mouth, opening his lips and inviting Geralt to deepen the kiss. 

It’s everything he’s ever wanted and more, as Jaskier moves one hand down, palming Geralt’s already hard cock through his trousers, making the Witcher gasp slightly. 

“Gods, you’re so big, Geralt,” Jaskier- Adrian- Jaskier mutters, nipping at Geralt’s lower lip. “Wonder if that’s all going to fit, darling.”

“I- you... you don’t have to,” he whispers, shivering slightly as Jaskier runs a soft finger along his cock, rubbing the head gently through the fabric, barely more than a tingle.

“I want to, darling. Want to split myself open on your cock, see if I can come on it untouched.” He bites his lower lip, lashes fluttering slightly in excitement. “Have been waiting for this for years,” he whispers. 

The illusion breaks for just a second, then, as Geralt remembers that this is not really Jaskier, this is not his dearest friend who he’s known for decades. This is Adrian, a whore who he paid to fuck. He’s about to pull back when Jaskier- Adrian- Jaskier drops to his knees, tongue hot and wet against the fabric of Geralt’s trousers, and he groans at the sensation, threading his fingers through brown curls - Gods, they feel as soft as they look.

“Please, Geralt,” Jaskier whispers, looking up at him through thick lashes, “want to suck you so bad, feel you come in my mouth.”

He has to choke back a needy sound, and nods, lets Jaskier unlace his trousers, lets lithe fingers pull out his painfully hard cock. Jaskier gives him two long, languid strokes with just the right amount of pressure that it leaves Geralt’s head spinning, nimble fingers catching beads of precum, smearing it out across his skin.

“Fuck,” he utters, fingers tightening in those brown curls. “Please, I need you-” He groans, deep and guttural when Jaskier wraps his lips around the head of his cock, sucking harshly - bordering just on the right side of painful - before letting go again.

“Gods, Geralt, I love hearing you beg.”

He chuckles, wiping some stray hair away from Jaskier’s forehead, as those familiar, blue eyes look up at him, pupils blown wide. “Of course you do.” He sighs softly as Jaskier kisses the tip of his cock, lips catching a bead of precum. “Fuck, please, Jaskier, need you so bad, please-” His sentence is choked off again, as Jaskier takes him in his mouth, sinking halfway down, before moving back, taking Geralt’s cock deeper with every slow bob of his head.

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the soft pressure of Jaskier’s mouth, combined with his slow movements, not enough to bring him closer to the edge, but enough to drive him insane; those searing, blue eyes, continuously staring at him, even as tears glaze them over whenever Geralt’s cock hits the back of his throat; or the knowledge that this is all just a beautiful illusion.

It’s the last realization that makes something in him snap, and he grabs the back of Jaskier’s- Adrian’s- Jaskier’s head, stilling him. “Tap my thigh if you want me to stop,” he says, and Jaskier nods obediently, clearly aware as to what’s coming. Jaskier lets himself go slack, hands holding on to Geralt’s thighs but doing nothing more - just holding on - spit starting to drip down his chin, as Geralt starts moving his head, up and down his cock.

The hands around his thighs clench a bit, the first time Jaskier chokes, but he soon relaxes again, lets Geralt fuck into his mouth, blue eyes falling shut, his own cock straining against his trousers.

“Fuck- feels so good, Jask,” Geralt mutters, cock twitching at the soft moans Jaskier lets out, at the wet sounds that come out of his throat every time the Witcher thrusts deeper. Way too soon for his own liking, he finds himself near his climax, and he pulls Jaskier’s head back, off his cock, ignoring the needy little sound the bard lets out.

“Jaskier, I’m going to-”

“Please, Geralt, come in my mouth, please. I want to taste you.”

“I- alright.” He lets go of Jaskier’s hair, and the younger man moves forward again, taking Geralt’s cock in his mouth with renewed fervor, sucking eagerly, and before soon, he feels himself hurtling over that edge, coming with a strangled “fuck!” 

Jaskier gently sucks him through his orgasm, before eventually pulling back when the pleasure starts to border on pain, making a show of swallowing, blue eyes staring up at Geralt intensely.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters, softly petting Jaskier’s hair, who grins at him. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.” He moves his hand under Jaskier’s chin, and the bard stands up, letting Geralt pull him into a searing kiss. 

It isn’t long before Jaskier (not Jaskier) starts palming at Geralt’s cock again, though. “Need you, Geralt,” he whines against the Witcher’s lips. “Want you inside me.”

Geralt can’t help but grin at that, reaching down to put his hands around the back of Jaskier’s thighs. Jaskier seems to get the message and jumps up, wrapping his legs around the Witcher’s waist, pulling him in for another kiss while Geralt carries him to the bed. 

He lowers Jaskier onto the soft sheets, the bard quickly undressing himself as Geralt does the same, settling between Jaskier’s legs afterwards. “How- how do you want...”

Jaskier sits up, pressing a soft hand against Geralt’s chest. “However you want.”

He swallows thickly. “Well, I don’t- I don’t know...” In all reality, he’s dreamt about this moment a billion times and now that he’s here with Jaskier (not Jaskier), he doesn’t really know what to do. All he knows is that he just wants to please the bard, in whatever way he can.

Jaskier sighs softly and rolls his eyes, though smiles anyways. “Alright, fine, I’ll decide, then.” He chews on his bottom lip for a second, contemplating his choices, arousal spiking in his roses and lemon-scent, before he turns around, his knees on the soft, purple sheets, head on his forearms. “Like this,” Jaskier whispers, looking over his shoulder. “I want you to fuck me like this.”

Geralt can’t help but smile, though softly, as he runs his palm along Jaskier’s spine, earning him a shiver. After a few more gentle strokes, he moves his hand towards Jaskier’s ass, resting just on top of it, the other pulling his cheeks apart. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, as he sees the round end of a wooden plug. “Oh, prepared, aren’t we?”

Jaskier grins over his shoulder, wiggling his ass softly, invitingly. “Couldn’t wait.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hums, taking the end of the plug between his fingers, tugging softly, earning him a sharp hiss and a spike in the scent of arousal, hanging heavily around them. “You’ve always been impatient.”

“Yeah, well, still am,” Jaskier huffs, attempting to move his hips, only stopped by Geralt’s hand, keeping him still. “Please, Geralt, I need you to fuck me, and I swear to all the gods, if you don’t do it right now, I won’t talk to you for a week.”

He chuckles softly, though a distant part of him wonders if the Mage planted Geralt’s memories of Jaskier into Adrian’s head, because good gods, does he sound exactly like the bard - from his accent, to his impatience, to the way he words his sentences. It’s uncanny, and he strains to fight the blurring of the lines between the whore in front of him and the real Jaskier.

“Geralt?” He looks up at Jaskier’s- Adrian’s- Jaskier’s voice, soft and concerned, meeting searing blue eyes. “Everything alright?”

He nods. “Fine,” he grunts, tugging at the plug, pulling the thickest part past Jaskier’s rim, to distract both himself and the bard- whore- bard. It works, and Jaskier lets out a breathy moan, Geralt’s cock twitching against his stomach in interest. “Fuck,” he mutters, pushing the plug slightly back in again, before completely pulling it out, just to hear Jaskier moan.

“Sweet Melitele’s tits, Geralt. Please, please, just-” He keens, high and sweet and more beautiful than any music Geralt’s ever heard, when he pushes the head of his cock past Jaskier’s rim. “Oh, fuck, feels so good, please, pleasepleaseplease-” 

His begging dissolves into breathy moans and soft pants as Geralt pushes in further, until he’s completely seated, sparks of pleasure shooting through him as Jaskier twitches around him. He stills for a second, lets Jaskier get used to the size of him, forces himself to move back from that edge a bit, before he pulls his hips back, slamming back in. It earns him a loud moan, so he does it again, and again, and again, angling his hips differently every time, until he finally finds the spot that makes Jaskier scream.

“Oh, gods, oh gods, ohgodsohgodsohgods-” Jaskier (not Jaskier, dammit) mutters, body shaking with pleasure, cock steadily drooling precum on the purple sheets. Slowly, Geralt increases his speed, thrusts growing more and more shallow, until he’s barely pulling out anymore - though he finds he doesn’t need to, when Jaskier comes with a strangled shout underneath him, painting the sheets and his own chest white with cum. He clenches around Geralt, and the pressure is enough for the Witcher to come as well, groaning softly, stilling completely.

After a while, he pulls out, collapsing next to Jaskier, who has rolled onto his side, facing Geralt. He closes his eyes for a second, lets himself revel in that post-orgasmic haze, in the feeling of someone next to him, in the soft patterns long fingers without callouses trace into his chest. He frowns, the sleepy, content haze suddenly gone, and he looks to his side, finding Adrian looking back at him.

His heart shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, it really shouldn’t.

He gets out of there as fast as he can.

---

He told himself it didn’t mean anything. He told himself it wouldn’t change the way he looked at Jaskier. He told himself everything would be fine and he could go back to the way things were, as if nothing had happened at all. He told himself he could forget all about it.

He now knows he’s wrong, as Jaskier pulls him into a tight hug, grinning into Geralt’s shoulder. “Geralt! It’s so good to see you!” The bard pulls back, holding the Witcher at an arm’s length, blue eyes sparkling. “Something the matter, Witcher?”

Geralt blinks, tears his gaze away from Jaskier’s lips, forcing the memory of how they had looked wrapped around his cock to the back of his mind. He shakes his head. “Been a long journey, is all.”

Jaskier grins at him, looping an arm thought Geralt’s, dragging him to an inn at the corner of the main square of Oxenfurt, near the university. “I understand. Kaer Morhen is a long way away, my dear Witcher, so how about we get you some rest and a nice bath? I bet that’ll make you feel better.”

He knows it won’t, as he looks at Jaskier, and can’t stop his mind from wandering to that one night, a few weeks ago, but he lets himself be led to the inn, anyway.

---

He sits in the bath obediently as Jaskier dumps bucket after bucket of clean water over his head, chattering excitedly about all the taverns he played in during the winter, all the people he’d had drinks with, all the classes he gave at the university. Geralt lets himself be near-manhandled as Jaskier scrubs at his back, pointedly ignoring the proximity and the warmth radiating off the bard.

He closes his eyes for a second, breathing in roses and lemon, trying to push away the memory of how it had smelled with arousal mixed into that scent. He breathes in again - roses, lemon, and... pine trees. His eyes snap open, and his hand snatches Jaskier’s wrist, bringing it to his nose, ignoring the bard’s confused protests.

There it is, again, as Geralt pushes his nose against Jaskier’s pulse, breathing in deeply. There’s a lingering hint of pine trees and musk beneath those familiar roses and lemons, but it’s barely there, almost as if Jaskier desperately tried to scrub the scent away.

He lets go of the bard’s wrist, as Jaskier keeps staring at Geralt, confused. “You were with someone else. Not long ago. A man.”

Jaskier blinks, then blushes furiously, looking away. “Alright, yeah, maybe I was.” He looks at Geralt again, shrugs. “But what I get up to during the winter isn’t exactly your business, Witcher.” He sounds defensive, and quite honestly, Geralt doesn’t blame him. He knows full well he has no right to comment on the company Jaskier keeps, has no right to demand an explanation.

Has no right to feel so jealous.

So, he turns back around, letting Jaskier scrub shampoo into his hair, a little bit more harshly than usual - but still softer and kinder than Geralt deserves. Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t deserve Jaskier, doesn’t deserve his friendship, his company, his kindness, his sparkling blue eyes. He doesn’t deserve Jaskier, and Jaskier deserves better than him - deserves someone to keep him company during the cold, long months, when Geralt’s fucked off to Kaer Morhen, someone who smells like pine trees.

“Was he good to you?” The question is out of his mouth before he knows it, and Jaskier’s hands still in his hair for a split second.

“Who?”

“The man you were with. Was he good to you?”

Jaskier hums softly, arousal spiking in his scent, which is answer enough to Geralt. “Yes, he was. He was very good to me, but...” His voice trails off, and he gets up to grab another bucket of water, dumping it over Geralt’s head, who wipes it out of his eyes.

“But what?”

“Well, he was...” He hears Jaskier sitting on the stool behind him again, feels a comb through his hair, teeth lightly scraping against his scalp. “He was nice, and comfortable, and safe.”

“Those are all good things.”

Jaskier sighs softly. “Well, yes, they are, but it’s not... what I want. For some people, comfort and safety is what they want in life, but not for me. I want- need something... more. So, being with him was nice. But only for a while.”

“And what do you need, then?”

It’s quiet between them for a while, Jaskier still combing Geralt’s hair, though there are no longer any knots left. “Adventure,” Jaskier says, eventually. “The thrill of danger, the feeling of adrenaline in my veins, travelling around the Continent, never truly settling down.”

It explains why Jaskier’s still around him, he supposes, explains why Jaskier always joins him on the Path, even after spending an entire winter apart. But it doesn’t explain why Jaskier sticks by Geralt’s side, specifically. Hell, the bard could walk the roads alone, and he would get exactly what he wants. Maybe he keeps close to Geralt for safety, maybe for songs, maybe for the Witcher’s hunting skills. He doesn’t know. And he’s too afraid to ask - scared that if he does, Jaskier will realize he doesn’t really need Geralt and leave him on his own.

Jaskier chuckles softly behind him. “What? No scathing remark? No telling me that I’m romanticizing danger? Not even a hmm?”

Geralt smiles softly. “Hmm.”

Jaskier laughs, patting Geralt on his shoulder, before standing up, drying off his hands. “Alright, then, I guess that’ll have to do.”

And with that, he’s gone, presumably to go get some food downstairs, and Geralt gets out of the bath, drying himself off, pointedly ignoring the lingering feeling of Jaskier’s hands against his skin.

---

They continue travelling after that, heading east on Jaskier’s request. Everything is back to normal - or at least, it should be, but Geralt can’t stop the memories of that one night resurfacing every time he looks at Jaskier. Hell, sometimes he forgets it was all an illusion, a vision created by a Mage. Sometimes he forgets that it wasn’t Jaskier at all, and it makes him slip up a few times, the boundaries they’ve created between them over the years suddenly unclear and slightly blurry. It gets worse the longer they travel together, Geralt slowly letting his guard down too much.

One time, Jaskier sat down next to him after a performance, gulping down two cups of ale before basically inhaling the plate of food Geralt had gotten for him. The Witcher had put his hand on the bard’s thigh under the table, had told him to take it easy or he would choke on it. Jaskier had simply nodded, and Geralt’s attention had strayed to the rest of the tavern, making sure there were no potential threats coming their way. It was only when he had noticed Jaskier staring at him, that he’d realized his hand wasn’t just still on the bard’s thigh, but that it had strayed up a bit. He had snatched his hand away, cleared his throat, and excused himself for the night, getting the hell out of there as quickly as he could manage. Jaskier hadn’t mentioned it.

There was also that one time that Jaskier was reading something, and Geralt had looked over his shoulder to see what it was. Without thinking twice about it, he had turned his head, brushing his nose against that sensitive spot under Jaskier’s ear, inhaling roses and lemon. Jaskier’s stuttering breath and skipping heartbeat had shaken him out of it, and he’d gone to brush Roach, scolding himself for what he’d done.

And then there was the staring. He couldn’t stop his eyes from straying to the bard every time they were in the same room, couldn’t stop the memories from resurfacing, along with a suffocating wave of longing. It had come to a point where even Jaskier was a bit freaked out about it, it seemed, furrowing his brow in confusion every time he caught the Witcher staring. Hell, he even asked about it a couple of times, asked if there was something wrong. Geralt didn’t have the heart to tell him, so he merely grunted something noncommittal and turned away.

---

He doesn’t realize they’ve travelled so far to the east, until Jaskier one day closes the door to their room at the inn after a performance and says: “Can we go to Inerith, next?”

There’s something familiar about the name of the town, something nagging at the back of Geralt’s mind, but he ignores it. “Why?”

Jaskier clears his throat, looking both excited and a bit embarrassed. “Well, there’s a brothel there-” Geralt snorts. Of course it’s about sex, it almost always is with Jaskier. The bard ignores it. “-where they offer a special service, I’ve heard. They can show you your deepest, darkest desire and project it as a vision. Heard it really works, as well.”

Oh. Oh no. So that’s why the name had sounded so familiar to Geralt, it’s the town with... where he... He squeezes his eyes shut for just a second. “No, not going back,” he says. After all, he can’t face what he’s done, can’t risk anyone recognizing him, can’t stop himself from going to the brothel again, if they were to pass through the town.

He doesn’t realize what he’s said, until Jaskier asks: “What do you mean, going back?” 

Geralt freezes in the middle of cleaning his swords, the only sounds in the room the crackling of the fire in the hearth, Jaskier’s rapid heartbeat, and his own faltering one. “Nothing,” he says eventually.

“Oh, nonono, you don’t get to say something like that and not acknowledge it,” Jaskier quips, standing in front of Geralt, hands on his hips. “You’ve been to Inerith, haven’t you? You went to the brothel.”

Geralt sighs, putting his sword to the side, wiping a hand over his face. “Hmm.”

“Did you- did you see your deepest desire? What was it?”

He swallows thickly. “No, I didn’t see it.” he lies. “I didn’t have the money. It was just a normal fuck.”

Jaskier purses his lips, something mischievous and gleeful shining in those blue eyes. “I know you’re lying, Geralt. Come on, what did you see?” His eyes widen slightly. “Or who did you see? Was it the sorceress, the-” he waves his hand a bit “the scary one with the purple eyes?” 

He looks at Geralt for a second, gaze intent, and the Witcher looks away - he can’t bear the heaviness of those eyes on him.

Jaskier gasps slightly. “It wasn’t the witch? Oh, now you have to tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit,” Geralt snaps, and moves to get up, pushed back into the chair by Jaskier’s surprisingly strong and firm hand against his chest. “Really?”

Jaskier grins at him, a wicked edge to his smile. “Really. You’re going to tell me what you saw, Witcher.”

“I will do no such thing.” He stares at Jaskier, who stares right back, unyielding, unrelenting, curiosity and glee in those impossibly blue eyes. Eventually, he can’t take it anymore, the memories resurfacing again, Jaskier’s gaze too intense to bear, and he looks away, guilt creeping up on his mind.

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, and Geralt looks back at the bard, sees his eyes widening in realization, face going slack. “Oh. It was me, wasn’t it? You saw me.”

He can’t hide it anymore. The truth has already been threatening to spill over, these past few weeks, the realization in Jaskier’s eyes the last drop. “Yes.” Jaskier’s hand is still on his chest, his entire mind narrowing down to the heat and the weight of that one point of contact, only distracted when Jaskier leans forward, crowding his vision, forcing Geralt to look at him.

“Oh, you bastard,” Jaskier whispers. Geralt resists the urge to close his eyes, resists the urge to get the hell out of here. This is what he’s been fearing, these past few weeks - that Jaskier would find out and hate him for it.

He startles when the bard climbs into his lap, knees around Geralt’s hip, heels under his own ass. Surprisingly strong hands tighten around his shoulders, as Jaskier bites his bottom lip. “You bastard. You got what you wanted, you got to fuck me, but I didn’t get to fuck you? I can’t believe this.”

Geralt frowns, tries to blink away his confusion. “I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“Haven’t I flirted with you for years? Haven’t I offered several times?”

Jaskier has offered to keep him warm, to help ease his tension and stress, but- “I thought you were joking. I didn’t think you meant it.”

Jaskier laughs, a bit bitterly. “Gods, you’re so stupid.” He smiles at Geralt, something hot and heavy mixing with his scent of roses and lemon, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Tell me,” he whispers. “What did he do for you? What did he do while looking exactly like me?”

Geralt’s mind shortcircuits, and he finds himself unable to put the memories to words, to tell Jaskier, though the sight of the bard’s pupils dilating, of his cock straining against his breeches desperately makes him want to. He swallows thickly. “I- he...” 

“Can’t find the words?” Geralt shakes his head, and Jaskier’s grin only widens. “Alright. Show me, then.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs, and he hooks his hands under Jaskier’s legs, holding him up as he gets out of the chair, walking to the bed. He tries to gently lay the bard down, he really does, but his own excitement and nerves make his hands falter, dropping Jaskier down unceremoniously. The bard yelps as his back hits the sheets, but giggles soon afterwards, fighting to kick off his boots.

Geralt kneels at the foot of the bed and helps him, before moving up, untying the laces of Jaskier’s breeches, as the bard watches him, pupils dilated, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Finally, the laces are undone enough for Geralt to pull the breeches down Jaskier’s legs, discarding them somewhere behind him, leaving the bard in his underclothes.

Jaskier yelps again when Geralt pulls him towards the edge of the bed, positioning the bard’s legs over his shoulders. He looks up at Jaskier. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers, and Jaskier pushes himself up onto his elbows, carding a hand through Geralt’s hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a soft groan from the Witcher.

“I’m not worried about you not stopping, I’m worried about you not goddamn starting, Geralt,” he mutters, pulling one eyebrow up in challenge.

Geralt doesn’t respond. Instead, he dives down, closing his mouth around the head of Jaskier’s still clothed cock, earning him a soft moan and another tug at his scalp. He looks up as he licks a few stripes up the shaft, slowly wetting the fabric, and meets Jaskier’s intense gaze, the bard’s lips parted as he pants slightly. 

“Gods, you’re gorgeous like that,” Jaskier mutters, loosening his grip on Geralt’s hair in favour of running his fingers through the strands. If the Witcher could’ve blushed, he would’ve, but he decides that he’s teased Jaskier enough, and pulls away slightly, earning him a soft whine that turns needier when he tugs Jaskier’s underclothes down far enough to release his cock.

He wastes no time wrapping his mouth around Jaskier’s cock, licking away beads of precum before he swallows him down completely, basking in the bard’s moans, in the soft tugging at his scalp as nimble fingers tighten in his hair again.

Jaskier’s cock hits the back of his throat, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, fighting the urge to gag, as he holds still. He only starts moving again when Jaskier pulls him up, letting the bard guide him as he sucks.

“Fuck,” Jaskier mutters when Geralt hollows his cheeks around the head before moving down again. “You’re perfect- so fucking gorgeous...” His whispered praises turn into soft babbles, and Geralt knows he’s getting closer to that edge. He looks up at Jaskier again, stroking one hand up and down the bard’s hip, trying to convey his message with his eyes.

“You-” Jaskier gasps softly, panting for air. “You want me to come in your mouth? Is that it?”

Geralt’s hum of agreement is enough to send Jaskier over the edge, back arching off the bed as he comes, legs spasming slightly. Geralt diligently sucks him through his orgasm, swallowing every drop Jaskier has to give, only letting go when the bard twitches away from him, overstimulated.

He sits back, letting Jaskier’s legs fall off his shoulders in favour of tugging the bard’s breeches off, before undoing the buttons of Jaskier’s shirt. The bard sits up, lets Geralt tug the rest of his clothes off, before he starts pulling at the Witcher’s shirt, as well. “Not fair that I’m the only one naked,” he mutters, and Geralt can’t help but smile. “I want see you.”

Geralt lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it away, before standing up, fumbling hands working on the laces of his trousers, eventually managing to push them down and kick them off. He stands there sheepishly for a couple of seconds, as Jaskier gapes at him, lips parted slightly, hungry eyes raking up and down Geralt’s body. He can’t stand the intensity of those blue eyes for long, and steps forward, leaning down to kiss Jaskier, the taste of the bard’s spend still on his tongue, relishing in the soft, content sighs Jaskier lets out.

“Did you fuck him?” Jaskier eventually whispers against Geralt’s lips, and the Witcher frowns, slightly confused. “The whore that looked like me. Did you fuck him?” Jaskier clarifies.

Geralt had forgotten about that one night at the brothel in Inerith, in all honesty, too occupied with the real Jaskier, right in front of him, to remember. “Yes,” he manages to choke out. 

“How?”

“On his knees.”

Jaskier sighs softly, biting his lip, eyes suddenly uncharacteristically insecure. “I... I don’t want that. I understand if you do, but not... not the first time.” 

Geralt ignores the slight whooping feeling in his stomach at the insinuation that there will be more times to come, and nods. “I understand. I don’t want that, either. I want to see you.”

Jaskier smiles at him, pressing a soft kiss to the Witcher’s lips. “May I?” he asks, hands softly pushing against Geralt’s shoulders, and he nods, letting himself be gently pushed and pulled until he’s the one sitting on the bed, Jaskier in his lap. His hands fall on the bard’s waist like it’s second nature, and he can’t help but press soft kisses against the side of Jaskier’s neck, breathing in roses and lemons and the salty tang of sweat. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against Jaskier’s skin, the words too heavy to say them to his face. “You’re beautiful and you’re perfect and I- I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jaskier whispers, hands softly petting Geralt’s hair, the gesture so tender it’s almost overwhelming. 

“Oil?” he asks, and he feels Jaskier nod above him, pulling back a bit to reach down for his bag, at the foot of the bed. 

“Good thing I left this here,” he mutters, and Geralt smiles softly. He closes his eyes and takes a moment to let it all sink in. The fact that Jaskier loves him back, that he’s right here with him, his warm body pressed against Geralt, that he’s showering the Witcher with soft touches and softer kisses and even softer words. It’s almost too much, his chest not able to contain the happiness and love that he feels, but he resists the urge to take off, to run away from all this. For Jaskier. He’ll do anything in his power to make sure Jaskier never gets hurt again - especially not by Geralt himself.

“Hey.” Jaskier’s voice is impossibly soft and tender, his finger gently tilting Geralt’s chin up, and he opens his eyes. “Everything alright?”

He nods, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. “Yes, it’s just... a lot.”

Jaskier frowns softly, cradling Geralt’s face in his hands. “We can stop, if it’s too much. It’s alright, I understand.”

He shakes his head a bit. “No, I want to keep going. I want you, Jask. Now and always.”

Jaskier smiles, kissing the tip of Geralt’s nose softly. “You’re so cheesy,” he whispers, earning him a chuckle from the Witcher. “Alright, we’ll keep going then. I just need to open myself up, first.”

Geralt smiles up at Jaskier. “May I?” And by all the gods, he’ll never forget the sight of Jaskier blushing softly at his request. 

“Well, if you really want to. Most people just prefer that I do it myself, get it over with-”

“I want to.” He holds up his hand, and Jaskier puts the vial of oil he got from his bag in his palm, looping his slender arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt, in turn, pops open the vial, pouring some chamomile oil into his hand, spreading it around and between his fingers, before reaching behind Jaskier, pressing two fingers against his rim.

Jaskier hisses softly, pushing his hips back. “Gods, yes, just like that.” Geralt smiles, pressing soft kisses against Jaskier’s jaw, as he pushes one finger in, slowly but steadily, basking in the soft whimpers the bard lets out. “More,” Jaskier demands, almost immediately, and Geralt can’t help but chuckle at that.

“You’re so needy,” he whispers, but obliges anyways, pulling the finger out, before pushing two back in. Jaskier moans softly, arching his back, pushing his hips back against Geralt’s hand. He slowly works Jaskier open, only adding a third finger when the bard is practically begging for it.

“Do you need a fourth finger?” he whispers and Jaskier frantically shakes his head. 

“No, just need you. Please, Geralt-”

He chuckles softly, taking the vial of oil again, slicking his cock up, Jaskier’s hungry eyes following his movements. “Alright, alright, no need to get impatient.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes at him, but bats his hand away, giving Geralt’s cock a few firm strokes that leave the Witcher’s head spinning, before positioning himself just above the tip. Gently, slowly, he lowers himself on Geralt’s cock, eyelashes fluttering softly as he pants, the Witcher’s hands settling on his hips just to have something to hold on to.

Once Jaskier’s fully seated, he stills for a few seconds, hands on Geralt’s shoulders, breath coming out in shallow bursts, red-kissed lips parted slightly. 

“Alright?” Geralt asks, wiping Jaskier’s sweaty hair from his forehead, fingers trailing down to the bard’s lips. Jaskier smiles at him, kissing his fingers softly.

“Better than alright.” Geralt can’t help but smile back. 

Slowly, Jaskier pushes himself up, before dropping down again, impaling himself on Geralt’s cock, moaning softly. “Fuck, Geralt, feels so good...” He does it again and again and again, and Geralt lets him take the lead, his hands only tightening around the bard’s hips and helping him fuck himself on Geralt’s cock when he senses that Jaskier’s getting tired.

He forgets about his own pleasure, as he watches Jaskier’s unfold across his face, watches the bard bite his lip, watches his eyelashes flutter, watches his mouth fall open, losing himself in the scent of roses and lemons and sweat and lust - committing every little detail to memory, just in case. He’s sure that if there’s a paradise, then he has found it right here, in Jaskier’s arms.

“Geralt, I’m close,” Jaskier whispers, and he realizes with a small start that, he himself, is as well, so lost in the man he loves that he’d forgotten about his own body. 

He reaches between them, taking Jaskier’s leaking cock in his hand, giving him a few firm strokes. “Come for me, love,” he whispers, and Jaskier cries out, his head tipping back, spilling all over himself and Geralt. A few more thrusts later, Geralt comes as well, choking out Jaskier’s name.

They sit there for a while, softly panting, until Jaskier pulls himself off Geralt, collapsing onto the bed next to him. The Witcher, in turn, gathers all the strength he’s got, and pushes himself off the bed, walking to the wash basin with wobbly knees, wetting a cloth. He walks back to the bed, cleans the spend off the bard’s stomach and from between his legs, before cleaning himself.

He lies down on the bed, Jaskier scooting up until he’s got his head on Geralt’s shoulder, his arms around the Witcher. “So,” he eventually mutters. “Was I better than what you had in Inerith?”

Geralt smiles, pulling Jaskier closer. “Yes. You were perfect. You will always be perfect.”

“Hmm.” He hears Jaskier’s smile more than he sees it, feels lute-calloused fingertips tracing patterns into his skin.

“I meant what I said, earlier.” It’s important to him that Jaskier knows this, knows that he means it more than he’s meant anything in his life, that he didn’t just say it in the heat of the moment. “I love you.”

Jaskier smiles up at him. “I love you, too.” Geralt nods, feeling slightly relieved, looking up at the wooden ceiling.

He slowly lets himself get comfortable with the feeling of being happy. It’s strange and unfamiliar, and he still has to fight the thing in his gut that tells him this can be snatched away any moment - this might be snatched away any moment, but he slowly sinks into it, like a comfortable, soft bed after a long day.

He notices after a few minutes that Jaskier’s fallen asleep, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the bard. He really is beautiful like this - hair tousled, skin sticky with dried sweat, lips and cheeks rosy - and he’s more than Geralt can ever deserve. He leans back in the pillows, closing his eyes, eventually, and lets sleep overtake him. 

Lets himself get used to the feeling of being happy, everything he’s ever wanted right here in his arms.

[nextwarden]

Webtoons are good for the soul [Long post] [but worth it] [hopefully]

Bit of a long one (for a change...), sorry.

I haven’t read that many that’s a lie but here are my favs!

Lore Olympus by Rachel Smythe [ongoing - every Sunday]

or when Hades met Persephone. It’s a love story, fluffy yet deep and sad at times. Very well told and with incredible art (as you can see from the cover ci-dessus), in a pastel/watercolour fluid style, as is the storytelling. It has compelling characters, character growth, love, funny moments, and basically the best you could ask from a romantic story. And it had enough material to get you through good number of hours of reading before you have to break down every sunday in wait of the following week like the rest of us.

mah-hart-mah-sole/10

Love Advice From the Great Duke of Hell by unfins [ongoing - every Friday]

Paul is in love with a cute girl who works in a café nearby. But Paul is shy and can’t work out how to go ask her out. So Paul does what anyone would do and summons one of the Great Dukes of Hell in order to get better at fumbling his sentences and blushing at beautiful maidens. It’s about discovery of one’s true self and how getting deep into shenanigans will lead you to find so much more. Also, sister. (You’ll understand when you get there.)

It’s funny but also compelling and serious but still incredibly funny. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much reading any other webtoon and yet the story is also really cool. It strikes a perfect balance, or near perfect. The expressions and the action scenes are just incredible too.

chenandeler bong/10

Suitor Armor by Purpah [ongoing - every Friday]

In a land with magic and war between humans and fairies, Lucia is the princess’s lady in waiting and her only goal in life at the moment is to get her Lady to have the wedding she wishes for and deserves. But then she gets a flower from a magic armor and everything changes. Also, she’s a fairy.

It’s well drawn, characters all seem unique, varied and personnality-driven. The art style is beautiful. It’s also deeper than what I expected, with inklings of different types and levels of drama.

Alright, I’ll say it, it feels like a ‘promising new Lore Olympus’. By which I mean not to compare but simply to say I felt as taken by the story as I did with L.O.

Modeus/10

Facing the Sun by ArtbyTesslyn [ongoing]

Aarya reaserches the intricacies of dobotics and artificial intelligence with her companion robot Liza who's expiration is long everdue. Things change with a hardware update. One can’t live without the other, and neither can the other.

It’s dark but beautiful, both in the art and in the story. The sci-fi elements aren’t overwhelming and pieces of lore bring begin to pain a picture over time. It’s a slow burn but oh lord! if it isn’t going to be blazing hot...

I Robot/10

Spellbound by Ronce [ongoing]

Eglantine joins a new highschool midyear and finds herself paired with a refractarian roommate. She does her best to fit in to her new school despite not conforming to all the expectations that others might have of her. Or of her strange but likeable roommate.

It’s a cute and queer little romance, very underrated in my opinion. The art is wonderful, it’s black and white in the beginning and starts having touches of colour here and there before going full blown coloured, and I didn’t even realize it had until many chapters into it... The characters all all diverse and interesting. Also did I forget to say it’s set in France and it’s a wizarding school? Because it is!

conseiller principal d’éducation/10

180 Angel by King Katbird [ongoing]

Chloe is an angel, she lives in Heaven and goes to school in the hopes of becoming a delivery angel one day! However her plan are compromised by her inability to do anything well except halo manipulation. Even flying is not easy for her. But a fateful meeting with a reaper sends her on a trip to Hell and back which changes her. Or is it that she had always been different?

It may not seem much from the banner but I tried it and I got hooke. The art is great and still improves over time, the plot takes a bit of time to set in - I’m still not sure it’s fully set in yet - but it’s worth it, and the characters are visually deep. It sometimes jumps weirdly between scenes or sequences but not so much it completely loses you.

LAMP/10

Letters on the Wall by JaelynGs [ongoing]

Tara comes back fom spain after a five years abroad to find things have changed and others haven’t, to her equal pleasure and dismay. This is how she and her friends deal with these old relatioships that they are now reviving.

Everything doesn’t go smoothly despite each and every character deserving them to. The art is good to begin with and manages to improve over time, as well as the storytelling. Where it might have been a bit hectic before, it smoothes over time. It was for the longest time the only reason I would stalk Webtoons everyday to see if there was any updates. Also each chapter has a colour in the name and that’s just cool!

If Da Yomanville Gang [see below] got me to come to Webtoons, this sealed the deal for me to stay. [And then there was Lore Olympus.]/10

Not So Shoujo Love Story by Curryuku [ongoing - every Tuesday]

Rei Chan-chan loves Hansum, the chin chin chinny goodest looking student, more than she loves her shoujo manga. But gorgeous Hannah is in her way and won’t seem to let her get her way with him. Why is that? Well, gaybe there’s a secret hidden behind her motives? Read it to find out...

It’s funny, it’s cute, and it’s so, so stupid. I love them all. It’s dumb but so much fun to read. There aren’t that many chapters yet but enough to get into it. Also, sisters. (You’ll understand when you get there. Bis) So this is what the spring of youth feels like, huh...

chips/10

Always Human by walkingnorth [completed]

Sunati, a young engineer in training, fan of all those mods you can add to change your appearance, meets Austen, a beautiful yet modless girl who she’s been admiring from afar for a while now. She thinks the girl’s beautiful, but sdly she’s refused when she asks her out on a date, and for rather good reasons.

Now watch as they gravitate around each other and how it influences them both.

It’s a slow-burn quite realistic lesbian sci-fi story about finding love and accepting oneself and others in the midst of life and all it brings upon us. It’s cute, it’s fluffy, and it’s heartwarming despite broaching serious subjects - in a good way -, and it’s finished so you can read the whole thing! (It has enough chapters to give you a few hours of reading)

hay fever sucks/10

Da Yomanville Gang by Jason King [ongoing - every Tuesday]

Layla moved recently, to get away from a dose of angst she didn’t want to have to deal with. She meets new people, fun and friendly people, but it seems the angst can’t quite seem to leave her alone. Alone is what she’s not to deal with it anymore, however.

This is the one, long before Lore Olympus, which brought bme over to Webtoons. It’s not the best drawn, not the most compelling, but the strong point and what made me love it - beyond Layla’s chara design - is the depth of most of the characters, how not all good is good and all bad is bad, and reality often lies in the middle - and how they evolve over the course of the story. Definitely worth a read.

wheelbarrow/10

Love Bot by Chase Keels and Miranda Mundt [ongoing - every Sunday]

In the near future - the year is (Blade Runner) 2049 - technology has advanced enough to creat pseudo-artificial intelligence and thus lovebots. Xada mods and repairs those emotionnaly intelligent robots for a living. What brings this story about is him toying with a less-than-friendly client’s bot so much so that he finds himself in quite a pickle when the bot ‘wakes up’.

It seems to be BL. Let it be BL, please! The art is very nice, the story feels dark but the pitch give way to many interesting possibilities, and, well, the characters are quite nice to look at, I’ll admit... Also, angst. I don’t always enjoy it but when I do, I do.

Not many chapters but it’s getting there.

i’ll let you bot my love/10

Mage & Demon Queen by Color_LES [ongoing - every Thusday]

Malori is the best and the most promising mage student at her school. Aided by Cerik, her best friend and swordsman party member, she attempts to conquer the last floor of the demon tower, reigned over by the ferocious Velverosa, the demon queen, whose defeat will bring glory and richess to those who defeat her. But all is not quite as it seems and, what is that, might it be a crush I see over there? Oh, wait, no, that’s just our protagonist getting squished by the weight of her love...

Once again, it’s fun and stupid (a pattern? noooo) but it’s worth a read.

LES/10

Down to Earth by Pookie Senpai [ongoing - every Tuesday]

Kade live alone and depressed in spite of fleeting relatioships since his big breakup, content with simply going by life while he works in retail. One day, an alien crashes into his backyard. Zaida’s an alien but she’s cute, seems innocent, is unfamiliar with everything, so he agrees to help. Thus begins a slice of life story of them roommating in his appartment until, maybe, one of them crashes into the other’s heart?

It’s cute, heartwarming, and I sort f relate with the main character. Although I don’t know if’d prefer a cute alien, a dragon or a stalking neighbour... [that’s an inside joke, I’ll explain if I ever make a list of the good yamete onii-chan! I’ve been reading] It’s a slow burn with enough depth to hook you up. Some characters are still uncertain in my eyes but that makes me curious.

loner/10

The Remarried Empress by Alphatart / Sumpul [ongoing - every Wednesday and Sunday]

Navier Ellie Trovi is an empress. Perfect and perfectly content in every way with her life until the day a mistress enters her husband’s life. Things sort of go downhill from there. Or do they? For she also learns about herself and what she might actually want out of life to be happy. Breaking the status quo might be the way.

It feels like one of those poor quality isekai comics or manga in which the MC is brought back to a time where she has the power to change her life and decides for emancipation and revenge, but it’s not. It’s more ‘yolo’ and had interesting characters, especially the MC - no pushover - and a slow-burn plot. Don’t expect to see the flash-forward in the first chapter quite yet, but come to experience the whole affaire in detail and in the most satisfying of ways! Also the art is cool!

divorce/10

Muted by Miranda Mundt [ongoing - every Friday]

On her 21st birthday, Camille fails the ritual to become a full-fledged witch and is isolated from what remains of her old and successful family. This leads to her discovering truths about herself and her powers that will change her and those around her.

By the same author as Love Bot. I haven’t read the whole thing yet but the designs are good, the plot is interesting, the characters have depth and personnality, it has witches, magic, romance [I guess, still unsure of the details though], a bit of angst, and it’s set in Louisianna. All good points.

plant magic/10

Cursed Princess Club by LambCat [ongoing - every Monday]

Gwendolyn and her sisters, each a princess in their own right, are set to be betrothed to three princes of a neighbouring country after living all their lives happy and sheltered with their father and brother. Unfortunately, Gwendolyn is not like her sisters - and brother, for that matter - in that her beauty is... less than conventionnal. Devastated by what outsiders think of her she escapes into the forest and meets kindred spirits in the form of the Cursed Princess Club - non-gendered, they also have that one prince there! - and it might just help her grow into the confident woman she is destined to become.

I clicked for the funny hahas ‘because she’s ugly’ and cursed princess trope, I stayed for the genuine laughs and smiles and the heartwarming good nature of most of te characters. Also, haha, funny characters are funny. So, yeah, I started this with a bias - still haven’t caught up yet - and have been seduced by this lesser known webtoon. Don’t let the visuals fool you, it’s really good!

respect wahmen/10

Andy Bass by KenneDuck / Gia [ongoing - every Friday]

Andy Bass is our average highschool girl. Litterally. She’s half human, half fish, a real mermaid but vertically. That leads to less-than-friendly looks and reactions from others. However, the arrival of a new, and frankly very cute, transfer student might change all that.

Haven’t read it all yet, not that there are many chapters out, but it feel fun and promising. Also, physically imperfect characters are best characters. Down with the reign of beauty and up with 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔪!

Chin Hansum 2.0/10

For the Sake of Sita by Haga [completed]

A medical student passionately falls in love with a fallen goddess during his volunteer abroad in Nepal, and he desperately tries to fight off destiny to save his love. [the actual summary]

Okay, I’ll be honest: I haven’t quite read that one yet. I’m guilty of only having looked at the beginning and the end to see if it seemed worth it and, oh my gorsh! it does. The art is beautiful, the story seems sad yet beautiful too (I had tears reading the last chapters without knowing much of the rest) and it’s short, so jump on it!

[I’ll probably come back to that later when I’ve actually read it completely]/10

Us Right Now by yurineseventeen [ongoing]

Rina's long-term girlfriend, Noa, decides to run away from home. Rina has limited time to find her.

Not much more to say other than it’s sweet and it feels real. I like the beginning, haven’t read the rest yet, but will definitely soon.

keep going/10

New Normal: Class 8 by Youngpaka [ongoing - every Sunday]

Dongwoon has a big head. It does not make life easy. But what if he wasn’t alone being so... different? He discovers it is the case when he joins his new school a special class full of people who are different. Things get weird fast but also better and fun.

I haven’t read this in a long time, it’s on my list though. But until the moment I stopped at least, it was fun, funny, and interesting. It’s slice-of-life comedy, often ligthearted and stupid, sometimes more serious, but globally a pleasure to read.

sensei/10

The Witch and The Bull by Moonsia [ongoing - every Thursday]

Tan's job as the King's royal advisor has nothing to do with his hatred for witches, but it does make him a prime target for a curse that turns him into a BULL! The only way to undo this hex is to rely on the beautiful witch, Aro. Can her kindness turn his feelings around, and break this spell? [the actual summary]

There are two bulls and they have to ask it questions to know which is the real bull? I dunno, I haven’t read this one... But it’s been recommnded by @berigolote​ so it’s worth a try I guess? She did recommend Lore Olympus to me, so it’s on my list anyway.

to try/10

The Right Knight and Our Days in Lumain by buttersphere [completed & ongoing]

A fun short comic about a play on the ‘knight comes to fight dragon to save princess in her tower’ trope and it’s sequel. The sequel is not finished yet (seems on hiatus) but they are worth the read for cute, funny, fluffy knight and dragon/witch romance and grumpy princesses.

need more/10

NetOL by Forever9Nine [completed]

A slice of life comic about a veeery shy cat-girl (not literally) falling in love with a warm-tempered bookshop employee ( and NOT her colleague), and all the shenanigans that ensue. It’s short, it’s fun, and it’s cute. What more to ask?

oh wow sports/10

Susuhara is a Demon by Soya S. Holm [ongoing]

The usual romance storyof perfectly perfect girl meets absolutely bazongers delinquent and reluctantly carries her unconscious ass to her appartment to help her after witnessing a gang fight between multiple idiots and her (future) idiot and saving her from a knife attack by bashing the last standing dude with a wooden shop sign. Legend says there’s a demon in K-city, I still am unsure of whom it might be.

fun/10

It Stems From Love by Soya S. Holm [competed]

A short story about a girl who loves flowers and finds herself unexpectedly coughing them up dramatically whenever she’s jealous of those around her crush. It’s short, it’s cute, a bit dark at times, but definitely worth a read!

bouquet final/10

Lesbiampires by fabarts [ongoing]

So, yeah, lesbian vampires. Nuffin’ ta add.

Well, anyway, it’s cute, it’s funny, it’s serious too, it makes me root for antihero type characters who actually murder people for fun (but in a fun and respectful way, I swear!) because, well, love./10

Perfect Harmony by bluebloodtanuki [ongoing]

An Overwatch fan-comic about Symmetra and her disaster roommates.

I don’t play Overatch but I like the lore and got dragged into fanfiction and shipping (by myself, mind you), so a fan-comic about similar dynamics AND it’s funny? Gimme.

Roadhog & Junkrat best duo/10

Love Doesn’t Talk by Ann [completed?]

A misunderstanding is fine. Two? Hmmm. Three? Surely that’s fate, no?

A cute love story unfolding before your eyes with no dialogue, only pretty pictures. I’m not actually sure it’s completed but even if it isn’t, the ending doesn’t feel disappointing in the least.

no words/10

AntiSTALKER by VOKIVORMOK [ongoing - every Thursday]

Humans, vampires and werewolves all cohabitate in this freaky highschool, despite tensions between the three races. A bittersweet yet fun love story between a fake stalker and his amnesiac prey...

Eugene wants Kira’s heart, she wants his head.

who?/10

Kiss It Goodbye by Ticcytx [ongoing]

Two lesbians in love recount to their drunk friends the story of how they met. It’s fun and cute, both in story and in art.

delinquent x prim&proper/10

Avril and the Divine Being by Charlie Genmor [ongoing]

Avril is a waitress, Cat is a reccuring client. Feeling blossom before they even exchange words and when they finally do, embarassment ensues.

I got hooked by the art style for this one and I have yet to be disappointed. Not many chapters but keep it close.

sunny/10

Sunflower by EtoileKonijn [ongoing]

Wednesday, an art student, meets Sophie, a friend of a friend. Feelings ensue. It’s beginning to have a good number of chapters (even if they are short) and it feels like it’s actually the slowest burn of them all. Very much worth a read though, for the art style especially.

cute/10

It Takes Two by love_of_pi [ongoing]

Common art style: imperfect but improving. Classic story: normal girl meets famous girl by accident and leave a great first impression. Shenanigans and romance ensue. However the tints of drama, the fun interaction between characters, and the smooth plot make it worth it.

Honolulu latte/10

A Mild Flavor by Ru-rin [ongoing]

A slice of life of different couples. One with a compromised relationship and bittersweet reflections of the past, and the other which is hidden from plain sight, at different times if life. It is not perfect but it managed to worm its way into my heart nonetheless.

tasty/10

The Greenhouse by Viesallon [ongoing]

Another one I haven’t read, but from the extracts I’ve seen the art is compelling, the story seems worth it - definitely deserves the drama tag it seems - and I keep it on my shortlist until I have time to read it.

supernatural/10

My Masochistic Boss by Arisas_Art [ongoing]

Debuting goth writer meets hellish boss of editing company about her new book. Disagreement and tensions ensue. It starts with a slap and might very well end in bed, stay tuned!

This one rebooted recently and the art is soooo beautiful, moreso than before is I may say.

sexy/10

Still Alive by Comic Kat19 [ongoing]

Half-zombie girl meets emo boy, baby ensues.

After the zombie apocalypse, they have to survive, and despite their differences, maybe together is better?

This I classify in the ‘Yuuutsu-kun to Succubus-san‘ category: a somewhat rough art style that I have come to love and enjoy greatly. Also the story is fun.

cat creature/10

The Biggest of Treasures by Aixn [ongoing]

That smile, that damn smile. It’s what got me to try and it got me to stay. The art style is beautiful and the chara designs is too. The plot? Not much to say yet, but cuteness is enough.

bright/10

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And there you go for now. These are my picks. I haven’t read everything on Webtoon, I haven’t even read everything I’ve subscribed to, but if I had to recommend anything I have tasted, here it is.

Sorry if I missed any you deem worthy; feel free to harass me and mock my lack of culture by flaunting your own.

Maybe more later, in the mean time: keep scrolling, scrub!

PART II

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Comfort

Massive spoilers for 3.0. Agnes and Estinien---pre-relationship. Agnes and her mum make a ton of yummy treats in the wake of a tragedy, and Agnes brings some to a certain grumpy dragoon. CW weight (but it’s slight)

The days after Haurchefant’s death were some of the worst of Agnes’ life. She not only thought herself a failure of a white mage and unworthy of possessing the soul crystal of A-Towa-Cant, but also a terrible friend. I couldn’t save him. No matter what I did. I couldn’t save him. And I know Brother E-Sumi said not everyone can be saved, but gods-fucking-damnit why did it have to be him?

Worried for her emotional wellbeing, Tataru did the only thing she could think of---smuggling Agnes’ mother Luci Littlefoot Currai into Ishgard. When Agnes saw Luci at Fortemps Manor, she hugged her mother and wept. Having Mum here has been great. She always knows exactly what to say and what to do.

In an effort to take her daughter’s mind off things, Luci suggested doing some baking for the household. And ‘some baking’ turned into Luci commandeering the Fortemps Manor kitchens and baking enough for an actual bakery.

“Mum, this is…a lot.” Agnes giggled surveying their baked goods.

“Oh, I know what we can do! How about we give a bunch to the staff here and leave some for the Fortemps boys---they could use some goodies, poor boys---and then maybe head over to see Ser Aymeric and give some to the knights there! I bet they could enjoy them or take them home to their families. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yes, that would be lovely! It’ll add some cheer around here.” And it’s sorely needed.

After leaving a plate for the Count and his two sons and giving some to the staff, Agnes and Luci made their way to Foundation.

“Agnes and this must be your mother.” Aymeric said once they entered the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly. “And…cookies? Brownies? Are those little pies?”

“Yes, sweetie.” Mum, please don’t call Ser Aymeric ‘sweetie.’ It was bad enough calling Count Edmont ‘lovey.’ “Agi and I made a lot and thought your knights could use a little cheering up. Who doesn’t love a nice freshly baked cookie, eh? Gather ‘round everyone! Take as many as you’d like and bring some home to your families!” Luci announced, going around the room and directing various knights to take baked goods.

“Your mother is quite something, my friend.” Aymeric laughed and took a cookie from one of the trays. “And by the Fury, these are delicious!”

“Yes she is and thanks. Um, Aymeric, do you know where Estinien might be? I thought maybe he’d want some too, but I don’t know where—” I don’t know where the seven hells he lives. He’s not a noble, so no manor. He wouldn’t like that anyways.

“The quarters of the Azure Dragoon are up the stairs at the end of the hall. He should be there, if he isn’t at the Proving Grounds. Take the brownies---he prefers those.”

“Oh? And how do you know that?” Agnes giggled. “He doesn’t seem the type to even like sweets.”

“He’s a proficient taste tester for me when I do my own baking. Trust me---brownies.” Aymeric gave her a reassuring smile. “He is wont to say, but he will appreciate it.” I hope so. I feel like I’m always bothering him, and he doesn’t even like me all that much.

Agnes took several brownies from a tray and followed the path Aymeric told her. Soon enough, she was standing in front of his door. Oh gods, do I knock? What if he’s not in? What if he tells me go away? Should I just leave them here and go? She took a deep breath and knocked.

“Yes?” She heard a gruff voice on the other side of the door.

“Estinien---it’s me, Agnes. I-I was wondering if you’re in. I have something for you.” He’s going to tell me to fuck off and leave him alone. And I’ll feel embarrassed and awful and never want to show my face to him ever again.

She heard footsteps coming towards the door and then it opened, revealing a grumpy-looking Estinien. “Oh?”

“Yes, you see, my mum is here in Ishgard and that’s a bit of a story in and of itself but anyways she’s here and we baked…a lot of stuff! Just so much! And we decided to give it all away! But I wanted to make sure you got something, and Aymeric said you like brownies so here they are.” She held out the plate.

He stared at her.

She stared at him.

I never should’ve come up here. I’m making a fool of myself. He hates me. He must hate me. Agnes shoved the plate at him and turned to leave. “Sorry for bothering—”

“Why don’t you come in? There’s not much here. I don’t exactly entertain.”

Wait---what? He wants me to come in? She stopped and turned back around at him. “Erm, sure. I don’t mean to impose.”

Estinien sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just get in, Agi.”

“Right! Of course!” Agnes said quickly and stepped into his room. It was sparse but clean---a long narrow bed, a desk with chair, a softer chair in a corner, a dresser, and closet were all that existed in the room.

“You can sit in my chair, if you’d like. Or sit on the bed. Doesn’t matter to me.” He placed the plate of brownies on his desk and sat down in the chair. “Well, go on.”

“Right!” Agnes sat on the bed. Not a bad mattress---not too soft, not too hard. “Um, yes, well thank you for inviting me in. Forgive me, but I thought the quarters of the Azure Dragoon would’ve been more…I don’t know…fancy?”

Estinien barked a laugh. “Ha! I don’t do ‘fancy.’ I prefer clean and simple. Tis an adequate room for me. It has all I need.”

“And everything you want?” Agnes noticed there weren’t any books on his desk or pictures on the walls.

“There is little I want---adornment and knickknacks are not anything I want.”

Oh. “Ah well, I’ll be sure not to send you any little souvenirs I pick up from my travels then! I always send something to Mum, no matter where I go. From Ishgard, I sent her a really lovely hair pin from the Jeweled Crozier.”

Estinien grunted.

Oh. Well. Alright. Maybe I should go. He clearly doesn’t want any company. I’ll just go and save enough of my pride before it shatters into a million pieces. “I’ll leave you to it.” Agnes started to get up, but she was interrupted.

“Agi, what are you doing here?”

“I-I-what?”

“What are you doing here? Really. You’ve brought me the brownies, which…thank you. But why?”

Because I like you and you can’t stand me and I need to get the fuck out of here before I die of shame. “I…you’re my friend. I wanted to make sure you at least got something before the hungry hoards got to all the brownies and cookies and hand pies and little pudding cups…” Before Agnes knew it, she could feel tears forming in her eyes. “And I wanted to see how you are after all this shit happened.”

Sitting silently in his desk chair, Estinien considered Agnes. Then, to Agnes’ surprise, his blue eyes turned soft. “I’m alright, Agi. I didn’t know Lord Haurchefant as well as Aymeric did, or even as you did. But Ishgard lost a good man.”

“He was a good man.” Agnes whispered. “A good man who deserved so much better than what he got. And I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” Tears began falling down her cheeks. “I couldn’t save him.” She took her glasses off, placing them in her lap. She then felt a strong, calloused hand on hers.

“Hey, that wound was fatal. Nothing you could’ve done would have saved him.”

“But…I…what the fuck kind of white mage am I if I can’t even save the people I care about? What fucking good am I? I’m supposed to be the Warrior of Light! I’ve saved so many lives, but I can’t even fucking save my friends! What’s the point of me?” She sobbed. “What’s the point?”

Estinien took her glasses and placed them on the pillow. He then pulled her into him, letting her weep on his shoulder. “Agi, I am probably the last person to answer your question, but I do know this---Haurchefant believed in you. He said you’re hope bloody incarnate. And damn me, but I believe it too. I know not everyone can be saved. You just have to do the best you can every day. Put one foot in front of the other. Keep on going. You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

He’s right---I am strong. I can do this. Haurchefant believed in me, and I will not let him down. Never. Agnes picked up her head from his shoulder and sniffled, wiping away the tears. “Gods, look at me! I’m a mess. And I’m so sorry for crying like that. I’ve cried so much lately, and I didn’t think I had any more tears left, but wrong again!”

“Full glad that I was able to give you a measure of comfort. One moment.” Estinien got up and reached for two of the brownies on the plate. He sat down next to her again and held out one of them. “Here. You could use one.”

Agnes shook her head. “No, they’re for you. Trust me, I don’t need a bloody brownie. Look at me.”

Estinien raised an eyebrow. “I am looking at you. And you look like you need a brownie, Agi.” He offered it to her again, this time with a small smile. “Take it. I’ll have the other.”

He…didn’t say anything about me not needing it. “Okay. Thank you.” Agnes took the brownie from him and took a bite. Mum and I make the best brownies! I hope Estinien likes it.

“Mmmmm, this is good!” Estinien with a mouth full of brownie. “You said you and your mother made them?”

Agnes blushed. “Y-yes we did. It’s her recipe. I’m so glad you like them.”

“Aye, it’s delicious!” He popped the other half of the brownie into his mouth. When he swallowed, he grinned. “Tis better than any brownie Aymeric has made. And you can tell your mother that!”

What?! Better than Aymeric’s? “Truly? I’m flattered.”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Agi. Especially when it comes to Aymeric being bested at baking.” Estinien laughed happily. This is the first time I’ve seen him truly be joyful. He’s…happy. “I’m going to struggle to not eat the entire plate in one sitting.”

Agnes giggled. “Oh really? That’s another thing I didn’t expect! Who knew Estinien Wyrmblood enjoys brownies so thoroughly?”

“Hmph, I’m not made of stone, Agi.”

“I didn’t mean—”

He laughed again. “I jest, I jest. And I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to more brownies making their way here.”

I will make you as many brownies as it takes to get you to laugh and smile like this. A thousand? A million? A billion? “Any time, Estinien. Any time.” Agnes looked down at her hands and sighed. “And thank you. I guess I needed…I don’t know…to cry one more time? Though doing it in front of you was embarrassing and I’m sor—”

“You of all people needn’t apologize.” That look he’s giving me…is it…almost a fondness?

Some loud noises could be heard from the floor below.

“I should probably check on Mum before she causes a multinational incident.” Agnes shook her head. “She means well and is lovely, but I don’t know if Ishgard is ready for Luci Currai.” Agnes stood and looked down at Estinien. He’s so handsome. I wish he could be free to laugh and enjoy things like this all time. I pray that this war ends soon, and you can be at peace. “Thanks again, Estinien.”

“Any time, Agi. And thank you for the brownies.” He got up and opened the door for her. “I’ll see you soon, my friend.”

Agnes waved and walked down the hall, towards the stairs.

What Agnes didn’t know that was soon as she was out of earshot, he closed the door and screamed into his pillow.

“You fucking idiot! Why didn’t you do more for her? She’s in pain, damnit, and you did naught! Fool! Fool of man!” He threw the pillow down and moved to his desk, sitting heavily in his chair. “Fucking fool. She sought to comfort me…me…in her hour of need. She’s too good for me. Far too good…” He stared out the window and shoved another brownie in his mouth. “When this is all over, I will tell her. I will. When it’s over.”

[thebmatt]

Chocobos!

Finally settled on some headcanons for my crew’s chocobos, so get ready!

Rheika’s rouncey Is named Fidget, because when she first got her, she was constantly moving, either preening herself or twitching her head back and forth. Fidget is how the crew discovered that certain fruits can change a chocobo’s plumage color, as Rheika brought her a basket of fruit to feed her while they played together. The next day, Fidget has bright purple feathers, and she LOVED them. The group consulted a chocobo handler, learned about the birds tendency to change plumage color according to their diet, and proceeded to experiment to get their birds the exact colors they wanted.

Fidget was already a vain bird, but her new color has turned that up to 11. She normally doesn’t like wearing barding, preferring to show off just how pretty she is, but Rheika has managed to convince her that barding will protect her feathers in harsher environments, and so she’s grudgingly consented to wearing it. Rheika keeps her in the Bozjan barding with the flyer’s chaffron. Shes easily the most playful of the group, and treats fights the same way, flitting around her foes, trying to bite and kick from multiple angles. Around friends, she’s a sweetie who just wants to play most of the time.

Franks also has a rouncey named Wark, which he named because that was the first excited sound he made when the two met. Franks carefully fed him the proper fruit to turn his feathers turquoise green, his favorite color. Wark is a very good boi who has learned the names of all of his dads tools so that he can gently hand them to dad when he needs them. Upon finding this out, Franks has a set of barding commissioned for him that resembled machinist gear, and Wark loves it.

Fearless’ destrier is a snow white boy named Squeaky who is a lot like his mama: big, strong, willing to fight and fight hard if he needs to, but on the whole is extremely tenderhearted. He’s always the first to check on his mom and his sibs after a fight, hitting them with a probably excessive amount of choco cures just to make sure. Fearless got him a set of Black Mage barding because she just can’t help how cute he looks in it.He’s not the biggest fan of the hat, but he’ll tolerate it for his mama’s sake

Dahkar is just a little bit too tall and between his muscular build and the heavy armor he’s fond of wearing, too heavy for a standard rouncey to handle, and so he was given a destrier as well. Dahkar named him Malygos, or “Mal” for short. His feathers are peacock blue and he’s most fond of wearing the tidal barding.

Mal groups people into three categories

1. Family: this includes his dad, his sibling ‘bos, his uncle and aunts, and a few of the senior scions. If you’re in this group, you’re trusted to be near him and his sibs, he’ll be affectionate with you and accept it in return.

2. People who his dad has told him to “be nice” to. This group is mostly the chocobo stable handlers that the group sometimes has to leave them with, but also includes some of their allies. If you’re in this group, Mal will tolerate your presence if you’re feeding or helping care for him or his sibs, but after that’s over, he’ll start nipping to chase you away and bite if you don’t do so.

3. Everyone Else. Come near him or his family, and you get a frenzied blue chocobo trying to rip you apart.

[sparklingichigo]

Drama Intensifies

Part 8

With that, Haruka takes Simeon on a tour around the castle. They start with the first floor, then on to the second and they finally reached Haruka's room with a beautiful garden full of flowers.

Simeon: Wow! That's a lot of flowers, it's so pretty!

Haruka: I'm actually not a fan of flowers but usually the maids come and took care of them.

Simeon: I see... Oh! You like Irises as well?

Haruka: I do, it's really pretty. I also have roses red and white, sunflowers, salvias, lily calla, and more!

Simeon: Hmm fyi, iris means Faith, trust, Wisdom, Hope, and bravery. I don't know which one you manifest but those are some good qualities of a flower.

Haruka: Really? I didn't know that. Do you know any more meaning of flowers?

Simeon: It depends on the flower actually^^

Haruka: We can start with this! [shows the red salvia]

Simeon: Oh, this one means "forever mine"

Haruka: Eh? [blushes red]

Suddenly Haruka hears Ichigo and Solomon in her mind.

Solomon: oooh that's smooth!

Ichigo: Smooth like butter~

Haruka: Guys please stop- o///o

Solomon: No-

In real life, Simeon looks at Haruka confusedly because she's blanking out. Simeon is scared that he broke Haruka with the flower meaning.

Haruka: U-Uh, I'll be back- [runs off]

Simeon: ....

Haruka: [heart beating fastly] yALL I SWEAR-

Ichigo: [laughs menacingly]

Solomon: Oh ho ho ho, it's been a while since I saw Simeon being that smooth

Ichigo : [casually plays BTS- Butter] Stan BTS ya'll

Solomon: ....is that human world music?

Ichigo: Yep, wait aren't you a human as well-

Solomon: I'm too old for this-

Ichigo: Ha! So now you admit you're old-

Solomon: :)) [tackles Ichigo out of annoyance]

Ichigo: WTF-

Haruka: [sigh] I'll just- [leaves the chatroom]

Suddenly one of the guards appears before her and asks Haruka to come to his room to meet the King.

Guard 4: Your highness, the King wants to see you. Right now

Haruka: I see, lead the way for me^^

So the Guard leads to the King and Queen's room. Once she's there the King tells the guard to leave.

King: You can leave us.

Guard 4: Yes, your majesty-

Haruka: You want to see me, father?

King: I do, please sit down.

Haruka: [sits down in front of him]

King: So, I've set out a room for your friend.

Haruka: Really? Where?

King: On the 5th floor, precisely on the last floor.

Haruka: T-the attic?! Father, that's so mean!

King: Not to worry, I cleaned it up and it looks decent now^^

Haruka: Oh well... alright then.

King: Besides, my assistant suggests that we make the room to suit his job, he's a mage isn't he?

Haruka: Yes he is^^

King: Well I'm sure he likes that room. It suits his theme^^

Haruka: Should I inform him about this?

King: Just the location, not the actual room! You should even close his eyes because this is a surprise for our guests!

Haruka: [nods meekly] o-of course father

That night, Haruka leads Simeon to his room with a blindfold on.

Simeon: Uh.... Where are we going?

Haruka: It's a surprise, I'll let you know when we get there! Do you trust me?

Simeon: Of course^^ we're going on a lot of stairs by the way-

Haruka: Yeah, since it's a long way! [holds Simeon's hand so he won't fall down]

Simeon: I see...

Haruka: It's also quite dangerous too, so I need to hold you so you won't fall

Simeon: Very thoughtful of you^^

Suddenly Simeon sees a blue light around him, he was surprised by the sudden light.

Simeon: ...Is there someone here?

Haruka: No, love, that's just the lamp! [Laughs]

Simeon: Oh, okay then-

Finally, the two of them reach Simeon's room. Haruka opens the door and leads Simeon in.

Haruka: 3...2....1! [opens the blindfold]

Simeon: Whoa! It looks so cool! Is that an experiment table?!

Solomon: ... tf he gets a wizard-themed room and I didn't?!

Ichigo: [sips boba] Boi, Michael even gave us a wizard themed one-

Solomon: Yeah and I have to share it with you! Is Michael playing cupid wtf?!

Ichigo: Why would you think he's playing cupid?!

Solomon: I don't know gurl! Look at the f*ckin bed! [shows a double bed]

Ichigo: .... oh damn, is he trying to match us up-

Solomon: Damn gurl, I'm with Asmo!

Ichigo: and I'm with Beel! Tf is this?!

Anyways back to Haruka and Simeon. If you two keep going you all might as well get married-

Solomon: Narrator no-

I do what I want and stop destroying the fourth wall! Anyways, back to Haruka and Simeon-

Simeon: It's so beautiful! I like the wallpaper color.

Haruka: Oh, I didn't notice you blue was your favorite color-

Simeon: It is^^ it's my favorite color, any kind of blues.

Haruka: Well I like red, but for interiors, I prefer them in white!

Simeon: White is also a nice color^^

Haruka: Oh and by the way, if you need to clean yourself or the toilet, there's also a bathroom but you need to get out of this room and go through all the stairs again-

Simeon: I don't mind^^ Can you show me the way?

Haruka: Sure, come on^^

So Haruka leads Simeon to the bathroom. Turns out it's also quite a fancy bathroom with a big bathtub, a toilet, a mirror, and a small window with plant decorations. It's minimalistic but still looks classy.

Solomon: damn even the toilets are fancy asf- [gets bonked by Michael]

Michael: You ungrateful human! I even gave you a room with the theme you want and a big bathroom!

Ichigo: [sips boba in the background] Well it isn't that bad tbh. But I have to share a bed with Solomon so yea...

Michael: Well you can use the magic to create a barrier or something or just use the bolsters to separate you guys.

Ichigo: Hmm that's a good idea

Solomon: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Michael: [bonks Solomon again]

Solomon: What was that for?!

Michael: For having a dirty mind. Should've asked Uriel to come here and supervise you two!

Ichigo: Uriel?!

Solomon: Oh God, not Uriel! He's scary!

Michael: Yeah, to control your dirty mind. Ichigo, do be careful. I might have to assign you to a room with Luke.

Ichigo: I think that's for the best...

Solomon: W-wait no! She ain't staying with that kid- [gets bonked again]

Michael: [sigh] Just don't do anything rash on her.

Solomon: Y-yeah.... [sweatdrop]

Michael: Good.

And so, Ichigo and Solomon end up sharing a room. But anyway, let's get back to Simeon and Haruka. They seem to be really happy together.

Solomon: What about me?!

Shut up! Haruka and Simeon just ain't finished! *bonks Solomon*

Solomon: How did I get bonked by a f*ckin narrator-

Ichigo: I have no idea and ffs stop destroying the fourth wall-

Anyways, back to Haruka and Simeon and stop interrupting me, Solomon!

Simeon: By the way, where's the towel....? I can't seem to find it....?

Haruka: It's right behind you, Simeon...

Simeon: Oh! [looks back] Didn't saw that^^

Haruka: Just take your bath, I'll go straight to my room.

Simeon: :( you're not staying?

Haruka: I have a room on my own though??

Simeon: Oh okay :((

Poor Simeon, but boi she has her own room. Stop being clingy! Anyways, Haruka returns to her room as Simeon takes his bath. Just when she's on her way to her room, she suddenly hears an alarm...

Haruka: ....sh*t- [runs to her room]

As she was running the guards and maids are looking for Haruka when she's clearly just on her way to her room. Finally, Haruka ends up going to a portal and arrives in her bed in just seconds. Somewhere, everyone is still looking for her even the king, he even went to Simeon's room to check.

King: Simeon? Crystalia?!

Simeon: [got out of the bathroom] You're looking for me, sir...?

King: Yes, have you see- Oh my goodness! Put on some clothes!

Simeon: O-Oh right- My apologies, your majesty- [uses the bathrobe]. What is it, sir? Did something happen?

King: My daughter went missing, have you seen her anywhere?

Simeon: I was in the bathroom the whole time sir, I think she's in her room or the toilets perhaps.

Just in time, a maid comes running towards the king and told him that Haruka is safe and sound in her room.

King: I supposed you are correct. I'm sorry for interrupting your bath, Simeon. Have a good night^^

Simeon: It's okay, your majesty, and have a good night as well-

Simeon finally enters his room and finds new pajamas on his bed. Surprisingly it looks exactly like his angel clothes. Speaking of pajamas, here is Haruka in her bed with the maids asking where she was when they were looking for her.

Maid 1: Where were you, your highness? We were looking for you!

Haruka: Oh I was in the bathroom actually...^^ I really need to let out all of the food from dinner.

Maid 1: I see... it seems to be a false alarm. Our apologies, your highness.

Haruka: It's okay, you guys are probably worried about me since I always disappear at night...

Maid 2: Oh well, have a good night, your highness^^

Haruka: You too, maid 2 ^^

[jwillowwolf]

Magic and Miracles - Chapter 2

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Chapter 2!

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter > | Masterlist

Summary: “Did you really teach yourself magic?”

“Yes. I learnt from whatever books it could find on the subject.”

Janus nodded. “Impressive."

Warning/s: food mention, fantasy racism.

Characters: Logan, Remy, OC, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus.

Tag List: @theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-please-come-back

Read on AO3

2 | Getting to Know You

Logan followed the group just barely as he found himself constantly distracted by his surroundings. The paintings, tapestries, vases, and statues, there seemed to be nearly no blank spaces anywhere, yet it didn’t feel cluttered at all. Everything was remarkable and expensive looking. And eye-catching.

In fact, he didn’t notice when the group had stopped moving and walked right into Virgil, which caused him to stumble backwards. Thankfully, Virgil caught him before he fell onto his butt.

“Careful where you’re walking, Lo. you don’t want to end up walking into a door,” Remy remarked from the front of the group.

Logan blushed. “Sorry.”

Virgil just helped him to his feet and nodded.

“Okay, now please pay attention. This hall has all your rooms and this one,” Remy pointed to the first door on the right. “Is mine. They’re all identical and I couldn't be bothered to assign them to you, so take your pick. Everyone has an hour to get settled then we meet back here in the hall for a tour. Good? Good. Farewell.”

And with that, he retreated into his room. Roman chose the room beside Remy’s and Remus took the one beside him, then Patton took the last room on the right side. Virgil took the first room on the left, which left Janus, Logan, and Willow in the hallway.

“Um, thanks, for earlier. With explaining the last-names thing,” Willow said.

Logan nodded. “It was no problem.”

“You would be surprised how many people find it problematic to understand non-humans,” Janus remarked.

“Well, I have no such prejudices. Also, thank you for calling out Roman’s behaviour.”

“Of course. I can’t stand elves who believe themselves higher than everyone.”

“You can’t stand elves in general,” Willow muttered.

“And for good reason. Have you seen Roman?”

Willow winced. “Remus was nice… kind of.”

“She called you a dog.”

“It’s a common mistake.”

“You’re too forgiving.”

Willow rolled her eyes and turned to Logan. “They’re such a hypocrite.”

Janus huffed. “I’m right here.”

“You’re being mean though, so I’m ignoring you.”

Janus rolled their eyes then also turned their attention to Logan. “Did you really teach yourself magic?”

“Yes. I learnt from whatever books it could find on the subject.”

Janus nodded. “Impressive. How did you manage to find a tome that explained pronunciation?”

“I didn’t. I sort of figured that part out from watching the testing ceremonies.”

“In that case, why not replicate the simple performances other mages made beforehand? It’s not against any rules to do the same spell sequence as someone else.”

“I didn’t want to waste the opportunity. Perhaps it was a bit… over the top to do the spell I did, but I managed to leave an impression.”

Janus smirked. “I suppose that’s a good reason. Anyway, it looks like we’re the last to pick rooms. I’m taking the one on the end, see you both later.”

With that, the trio split up into their rooms. Janus taking the one at the end on the left, and Willow leaving the choice between the two doors between Janus and Virgil’s rooms for Logan to choose between. He chose the one next to Virgil’s, allowing Willow to have the room closer to Janus.

Inside the room, there was a queen-sized bed with four tall wooden posts that suspended a silky blue canopy. There was a dresser, a wardrobe, a writing desk, and a half-empty bookshelf. The books didn’t seem to be anything special. Logan’s bag was already on his bed. He only now realised that he’d left it in the carriage. One of the staff members must have brought it here. Thank goodness they brought it to the right room.

Wait, that was his bag, right?

He double-checked the contents and sighed in relief that it was indeed his bag. After that slight scare, he began unpacking his things and sorting the room just how he wanted it. He was delighted to find some fresh blank papers on the writing desk and a few sharp pencils too.

Forty-five minutes later, everything was organised just the way that Logan wanted and he was… bored out of his mind. He flopped down onto the bed and was distracted for a few moments by how incredibly soft it was. After that novelty wore off though, he found himself bored again and stared up at the blue canopy.

His mind once again thought of how frightening this was. He was truly out of his depth with the complexities and splendour of high society. Perhaps there are some books he can find on the subject to help him. ‘How To Fit In With The Upper Class’

He got up from bed to check if there was such a book, or at least something similar, on the shelf. To his dismay, there seemed to only be fictional novels and a dictionary. He’d need to ask Everleigh about looking out for something at the library. Was there a library here? Remy said that they’d have a tour later so he supposed he’d find out then. Wait, when was that tour?

He checked the clock and noticed that… barely three minutes had passed since he went to lie on the bed. Darn it, there were still at least ten minutes to kill before the tour.

He could have read the fiction novels, but honestly, none of the summaries seemed very appealing. He wondered if he could write something but he didn’t have anything to write. Trying to take a nap was pointless so he found himself just sitting on his windowsill.

The view was rather breathtaking actually. Below there was an array of cobblestone paths, lined with green shrubbery, some of which were dotted with white, pink, and purple buds. There was a hedge in front of the iron fence that lined the property, and beyond that was the dark spruce forest that grew high and looked thick and full of secrets.

Logan wondered briefly what secrets really were hidden there in the forest. Creatures? Monsters? Come to think of it, what was hidden here in the manor. Sure, the students had been permitted to explore the entire estate, but Remy had said that they couldn’t go to the tower. What was in that tower? Books full of forbidden knowledge? A porthole to another realm? A gnome that could turn thread into gold?

No, that was stupid, gnomes don’t like being indoors and surely the Royal Family wouldn’t keep anyone hostage in their private estate. But still, what could be there? It must be something important if even Remy wouldn’t let them know what it was.

“Okay, Tour Time, come on out or get left behind!” Remy called from the hallway, causing Logan to practically fall back into reality as he fell off the windowsill.

He groaned in pain as he got up then went out into the hallway to find Remy and the others waiting for him.

“Alrighty, we’ll begin here. This is the east wing, also known as the guest wing. This particular hallway has been cleaned up for us to use this year so please respect your rooms. The other bedrooms are locked so don’t bother looking at what is inside of them. Now if we go this way...”

The tour lasted for three hours and was mostly without interruption as everyone seemed awestruck by the magnificent manor. Logan was glad not to be alone in his awe as they went through the many different halls and passages. There were countless bedrooms in the east and west wings, private bathrooms on the first floor, several studies, sitting rooms, a library [that Logan clocked for later], extensive several acres of gardens, a ballroom, and a large dining hall fit for royalty, which is where they finished the tour to eat lunch.

There was a variety of smoked meats, fresh loaves of bread, tossed salad, a platter of cheese, and lemonade to wash it all down. Logan didn’t know what half of the meats were but tried a little bit of each. He found that he preferred sticking to the familiar beef slices for his lunch and enjoyed them in the form of a little sandwich.

He noted that while Virgil ate the simple sandwich like him, Roman, Remus, and Patton seemed to prefer the salad, while Willow and Janus ate more meat. Willow preferring theirs medium rare while Janus had used some magic to cook theirs further. Logan wondered if this was to do with their race. Willow was part wolf while Janus was part dragon, making them both somewhat carnivores, so craving a lot of meat seemed reasonable. Maybe he could ask about it later if they didn’t mind.

They had certainly seemed the friendliest to him so far, apart from Patton of course. But Patton seemed the type of person who made friends with everyone. Janus, as Willow had implied earlier, was acting cold towards the twins, and Roman seemed to be returning the same cold energy towards everyone apart from Patton. He even seemed cold to Remus, but more in an annoyed sibling fashion. Remus himself seemed indifferent to everyone, just happily chatting with Pat and sometimes blurting inappropriate thoughts. Willow looked still a bit shy though not nearly as tense as this morning, and Virgil was being silent and mysterious as ever.

“Now that lunch is done, let’s have an icebreaker,” Remy suggested.

“It seems quite warm in here, are you sure the ice needs to be broken?” Patton asked.

Everyone was silent for a moment, either cringing or holding back a laugh. Remy looked like that comment had physically pained him as he stared at Patton.

“Just for that, you’re up first, Patty.”

“Oh, um, what are we doing?”

“We’re going to go around and share a fun little fact about ourselves,” Remy explained.

“Alrighty, well, I like frogs. Sometimes, my brother and I go to the marshes and catch a few to just look at them.” Patton stated.

“You have a brother?” Remus asked.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, my little brother Morgan. He’s twelve and likes frogs almost as much as me.”

“That’s so cool. My brother isn’t even remotely interested in what I like.” Remus sighed.

“That’s because you like gory stories about seafaring hooligans,” Roman said.

“They’re not hooligans, they’re pirates. And I’m going to become one someday.” Remus declared.

Patton cocked his head to the side. “Oh?”

“At least I’d want to do the sailing part, I’ll leave the plunder and pillaging to the others. Unless I get bored,” Remus shrugged.

“I suppose we can accept that as your fact, Remus,” Remy said. “You wanna go next, Rome?”

“Roman, and yes, I shall. I am the best swordsman among the nobility. In fact, I’m to be knighted once I come of age,” Roman declared.

“You need to do an incredible deed to become a knight,” Janus pointed out.

Roman huffed. “Well, I will have you know that my great deed was saving the crown prince himself. Single-handedly.”

Virgil snorted at that.

Roman sneered at him. “And what do you find so amusing, Stormy Knight?”

“You lying about 1, becoming a knight and 2, saving the prince. Everyone knows he’s kept protected in the castle so that no one even knows his face. There's not even a remote chance that you’ve met him.”

“Well, I have. He’s actually quite handsome and much more sophisticated than any one of you. He even personally told me about his idea for this school.”

Virgil just shook his head with amusement.

“I agree with Virgil, you’re lying through your teeth. I suppose we’ll all just have to assume you’re nothing important.” Janus declared.

Roman glared at them. “I am the heir of Lycrest Isle, therefore future governor of the Eastern Ocean. I am a very important person, if not the most important here.”

Janus smirked. “Yet you’re so boring you have to lie about yourself.”

“You-”

“Can go next, Janus, since you’re so eager to speak,” Remy interrupted, steeping between the elf and dragon just in case.

“Alright then. Well, I am known in Evergreen Valley as close to royalty, since I am not only a dragon shifter but also the song of the western governor, Declan the fearless.” Janus stated.

“Cool story kid. Wolfie, you’re up.” Remy announced, ignoring the growing tension between Roman and Janus.

“Um, I grew up with Janus, my eight cousins and two younger siblings, with who I am very close,” Willow said.

“I thought you were part of a pack?” Remus said.

“I am. My pack includes my biological family, and many cousins who I was raised alongside,” Willow explained. “What did you think being a part of a pack meant?”

“Well, if you are a part of a pack, then how did you grow up with Janus?”

“I fostered with the Redrunner pack for most of my childhood,” Janus clarified.

“Oh, so you guys are like childhood friends?” Patton asked.

Willow nodded. “Yep.”

Roman looked over to Willow and said. “I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“How long you’ve had to stand them.”

“Hey!” Janus snapped. “That is a direct attack against my character.”

“And calling me a liar isn’t?”

“Virgil called you a liar, I only agreed with him.”

“Don’t drag me into this.”

“Yeah, can’t you fight your own battles, Dragon?”

“You want to fight me, Elf?”

“Okay, no, that is where I draw the line,” Remy said in a booming voice that instantly silenced the two teens. “You don’t have to like each other, or get along that well, but there will be no physical fighting while you are under my care. In fact, if I see any of you harm each other, then I’ll send you straight home, no excuses. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir,” everyone replied.

“Great, well, that’s enough fun bonding time for today, I suppose. You can all go back to your rooms now.”

And so, that marked the end of Logan’s interactions with his class for the day, since he went straight to bed once he returned to his room. He had not gotten much sleep the night before due to nerves and excitement, so after everything that had happened, he was more than ready to drift away to dreamland.

Now that he had met his classmates, and gotten to know them if only briefly, he sorely hoped that they wouldn’t cause any disturbances to his learning magic. He didn’t want to fail the second test because of some argumentative teens taking up class time. He would be taking the test alone anyway, so he supposed that it wouldn’t affect him if they all failed. But really, he hoped that was the only fight he’d have to witness this year...

---

A/N: thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. I'll be posting two chapters a day until the full fic is up, so if you want to be tagged, you can just ask.

I'd love to hear what you thought about the chapter if you wouldn't mind commenting. Thanks again for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

[lesetoilesfous]

'It's clearly not nothing.' or 'It'll be over soon.' from the angst prompts for Nanders?

Oooooh oh I love an angst prompt, thank you so much! 

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age ficlet, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Nanders

Characters: Nathaniel Howe, Anders

Tags: awakening-adjacent, PTSD, the Circle was terrible, past abuse, angst, pre-relationship

Rating: Mature

“It’s clearly not nothing.” Nathaniel is trying, hard, to remain calm. He’d been working on it with the warden, who had politely suggested that Oghren might not be the best man from whom to take anger management lessons. 

In front of him, Anders leans heavily against the dusty, finely carved wall of what was once a building in the slums of Kal Hirol, and refuses to look at him.

Nathaniel waits a heartbeat. Two. Then, “Anders -”

“Just, give me a minute, alright?” Anders’ jaw is tight when he speaks, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat over his skin. In the watery half-light of the thaig, it’s hard to tell whether it’s any paler than normal. Nathaniel had commented on it once, and been met with a level stare. (Ah, yes, I forgot to mention all the time I spent sunbathing in the windowless tower in which I was raised.)

Pushing away his own unease, Nathaniel glances back over his shoulder in the direction of the warden and what he had no doubt would be the latest addition to their motley crew - a strange, strangely cheerful legionnaire named Sigrun. Around them, the shadows are unnaturally still, trapped by the stone in a permanent tattoo. 

The smell of spider-flesh and venom is acrid in the back of Nathaniel’s throat, and dust lies thick on his tongue. He breathes, and tastes the scent of brackish water. Talen meets his eyes, the Dalish tattoos on his face even stranger in this place, where such branding holds such different meaning. Nathaniel shrugs, and the warden’s mouth pulls downward into something of a grimace.

Despite himself, and his certainty that if Talen could forgive an attempt on his life then he could forgive a minor delay, Nathaniel feels his heart beat faster when he turns back to Anders. “The commander is waiting.”

Anders nods, once, and his long fingers curl into a fist at his side for a moment, squeezing tight enough for his knuckles to go white before he stands up straight and gives Nathaniel a blinding smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Anders tosses his head, “Far be it from me to get between you and your authority complex, Nate.”

“My name is -”

Anders pushes past him, waving him off as he does so, “Yes, yes, I know, Ser Howe.” He speeds up a little once he’s gone, step getting noticeably lighter as Talen looks up to grin at him. “Did you miss me, commander?”

Talen grins. “How could I not?”

Nathaniel watches as Talen claps Anders’ shoulder, despite their difference in height, and gives him a quick once over whilst Anders rolls his eyes and flushes faintly pink. Just behind Talen, he meets Sigrun’s eyes where she is watching them, too, mouth pulled down into a slight frown. Then she turns and walks away. 

The rest of the day dissolves into skirmishes with darkspawn and the unforgettable obscenity of four adult broodmothers. Anders doesn’t come near Nathaniel, and Nathaniel chooses to believe that it’s only a matter of coincidence. 

But when they return to the barracks and Anders sits, somewhat awkwardly, down beside Talen (himself in warm conversation with Velanna) - instead of in the spot he had insistently invaded at Nathaniel’s side ever since they’d been conscripted, Nathaniel decides that something is wrong. 

Anders barely touches his food, and excuses himself early with some lie that Talen doesn’t believe - judging by the look in his eyes - though he offers a kind smile to Anders’ blushes as the mage ducks his head and flees the hall. Nathaniel frowns, picking up his tray of food and passing it to the kitchen staff on his way out before following Anders’ likely route into the Vigil.

It’s more habit than anything that lets Nathaniel step into the shadows, and it’s only when they’re approaching Anders’ chambers (another oddity about the man - he’d moved out of the soldiers’ dormitories some days after he’d moved into them, with no explanation from either the mage himself or the Warden Commander. Nathaniel had been working hard not to be jealous of it) that it occurs to Nathaniel he might frighten Anders if he suddenly reveals his pursuit of him outside his bedroom.

Fortunately he is spared the agony of choice when Anders freezes, suddenly, and turns with a sudden charge in the air that prickles over Nathaniel’s skin and lifts the hairs on the back of his neck. Brown eyes wide and almost gold in the light of the torch beside his head, Anders looks down the apparently empty stone corridor. “Who’s there?”

There’s a tightness to his jaw that doesn’t quite hide the way his voice shakes. His free hand curls into a loose fist at his side.

Nathaniel takes a deep breath, and steps out of the shadows with his hands raised in surrender. “I mean you no harm, Anders.”

Anders’ narrow chest lifts and falls in one quick breath before he speaks, frowning. “Nate? Do you make a habit of stalking men to their bedchambers?” There’s still something of a shiver in Anders’ voice, and his hand is still curled at his side. Downstairs, the booming bark of the commander’s mabari makes him jump. Nathaniel carefully, deliberately takes a step back, keeping his hands raised in the air.

“No. I was...” Nathaniel pauses, realising abruptly that he isn’t entirely sure himself. He clears his throat, and tries to ignore the heat running up the back of his neck. “I was...worried about you.”

Anders snorts, and Nathaniel’s flush reaches his cheeks. “Yeah, right.” His hand - trembling a little - lifts up to his head and pulls roughly through his hair, tangled and a little dirty from the efforts of the day. He looks away from Nathaniel, through the window beside them and over the courtyard below. The dying daylight casts stark shadows over the sharp line of his jaw. “Look, I’m not in the mood. Maybe some other time, alright?”

It takes Nathaniel a moment to understand the direction in which the conversation has swerved, and when he does his cheeks burn. “I’m not propositioning you. I...is it really so strange that I should be concerned for your wellbeing?”

Anders snorts, and shrugs, stepping backwards and away from him. “Look, Nathaniel, I’m not your redemption quest. I’m not your little charity case. Just drop it.”

“No, I know that, you’re my friend.” It’s only once he’s said it that Nathaniel realises he’s never put it into words before. But he feels the weight of it in his tongue and the rightness of it in his chest, even as Anders freezes, halfway to leaving him. Nathaniel lifts his chin. “You’re my friend, Anders. I’m worried about you.”

Anders bites the inside of his cheek, and glances up at Nathaniel, once, quickly, before looking away. He takes another quick, deep breath. Outside, it begins to gently rain. “Alright. Ah.” He glances down the corridors over Nathaniel’s shoulder - as he always does - as if he expects some monster to appear suddenly from the shadows. “Come in.”

Anders jerks his head at the door to his rooms (they had been a guest chamber, once) and steps hurriedly inside. After a moment, Nathaniel follows him. 

He pauses in the doorway, whilst Anders looks quickly around the sparsely populated room and tugs a robe off the back of a threadbare chair. Nathaniel gestures to the door “Open, or?”

“Closed.” Anders says, a little too quickly, and throws him another smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Nathaniel takes the opportunity to survey the room - there are books everywhere. He recognises some of them, but not all. Many of them are from the libraries, his father’s and sister’s rooms, even some in the dull blue leather of his mother’s preferred bindings. But there are others he recognises as gifts from the commander - they totter in stacks across the floor and every surface. 

A large desk has been pushed into the window , and is scattered with both books and all manner of trinket: jewelery, pebbles, feathers, carvings, even a little bell collar. There’s a comb, a razor and a mirror near the bed, which is neatly made. It is both more and less than Nathaniel had expected. 

Politely, he clears his throat, and takes the seat Anders offers him. “This is...nice.”

Anders snorts a laugh. “Yeah okay, not all of us grew up knowing what to do with luxury.” He tugs his ear and glances around the room. “I...like to read.”

“You don’t say.”

Anders laughs again, honestly this time, and Nathaniel watches with a quiet kind of satisfaction when it wrinkles the corners of his eyes as he sits on the chair opposite him. The rain gets heavier, and taps gently on the windows. Nathaniel glances outside at the familiar grey, muddy landscape of his home.

When he turns back to Anders, he catches him watching it too, face washed in the watery light of the early evening. Anders catches Nathaniel watching, and glances down at his hands, where they rest lightly in his lap. “There’s no way I can just, make you forget it ever happened, is there?”

Nathaniel resist the urge to say, with blood magic. Anders did not, in his experience, respond well to the suggestion that he would ever consider such a thing. Instead he meets his eyes and says, honestly, “I’m largely concerned that it might happen again.”

Anders clenches his jaw, and looks down at his hands, tawny eyelashes fluttering like a butterly’s wings. “It probably won’t.” He says the words so softly they’re nearly drowned out by the tapping rain. 

Nathaniel doesn’t point out the transparency of that lie. “But if it does.” He sits forward, trying to meet Anders’ eyes. After a moment, Anders glances up at him. Nathaniel offers him a smile. “It might help if I understood why. So that I can help to prevent it from happening again.”

There’s something, then, in Anders’ expression, that looks terribly like hope. He blinks, and it’s gone. 

Anders sits up and pulls the tie from his hair, pulling his fingers through it as it falls loose around his face. “I tried to escape from the Circle several times, before I was conscripted. The last time, my punishment was to be kept in solitary confinement for a year.” Anders’ hands tug viciously at the tangles in his hair. Nathaniel doesn’t think before he reaches out to take his elbow. Anders freezes, looking up at him, and Nathaniel gets to his feet.

“Let me get a comb.”

He picks it up, quickly, from the mantelpiece, and tries not to look in the mirror. Nathaniel pauses beside Anders’ chair, and speaks before he can think better of it. “May I?”

Anders looks at him for a moment, brown eyes unreadable. Then he nods. 

Gently, Nathaniel begins to comb his hair. He’d done this for Delilah, once upon a time, when she was very small. She’d had a nursemaid to do it. But sometimes, when she had trouble sleeping, she’d come into his room and sit on his bed whilst he combed her hair and listened to her tell him about her nightmares. 

Carefully, Nathaniel runs his fingers through the slightly greasy texture of Anders’ dirty hair, carding through the tangles before running the comb lightly through it, again and again. Slowly, Anders’ narrow shoulders fall. Once they do, Nathaniel speaks. “So it reminded you of being there. In confinement?”

Anders lets out a long, shaking breath. “I thought...I thought we were trapped. I can’t go back in the dark again. I can’t -” His voice gets high, and Nathaniel pauses, unsure whether to move or pretend not to notice as Anders’ shoulders start to shake. After a moment, he continues to gently comb his hair. He tells himself he isn’t a coward for it. Outside, it continues to rain.

When Anders’ quiet shaking lessens, Nathaniel asks, carefully. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Anders laughs, and it’s an ugly, angry, grieving thing. “No.”

Slowly, Nathaniel finishes combing Anders’ hair, reluctantly tugging the comb through the last strands. He’s half inclined to start again, when Anders’ hand catches his wrist. Nathaniel looks down, and catches the slight silver of a scar just above Anders’ lip. “What you said earlier,” Anders asks, quietly, “did you mean it?”

“I did.”

Anders’ hand tightens a little around his wrist, and he looks down and away from him. “Would you stay?”

Nathaniel hesitates. “I’m not sure now is -”

Anders lets him go, and smiles at him. “Not to ravish me, Howe.” The smile falls and he bites the inside of his cheek as he looks outside at the darkening night. When he speaks, Nathaniel has to strain to hear him. “I’d just...rather not be alone.”

Nathaniel tries to imagine what it would be like, to sit in the cold and dark, alone, for a year. Then he sets down the comb on the desk, and squeezes Anders’ shoulder. 

“Of course.”

[kirenia15]

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Company *One-shot*

Summary: Gandalf brings an unexpected party to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. A mage, a human, and a woman, a fact that not everyone in the company is glad about. 

Warnings: none, I guess. Just some fluff.

Words: 2,170

Disclaimer: only my character is my own, credits to the amazing Tolkien and to the owner of the gif.

*A reminder that English is not my native language.* 

[Kili x OC]

“Here, Mr. Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?” Dori asked, although he was barely audible through the cold storm they were riding in.

Every crack and crevice that exists was soaked to the bone. Droplets stick on her eyelashes and lips, dripping from her forehead and around the curves of her temple. Her hooded cloak helped for a while, until the rain started to come so heavily that nothing could stop it from reaching her skin.

Riding behind Dwalin and Gandalf, Kirenia has watched them become as soaked and as miserable as she was.

“It is raining, Master dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.” Gandalf responded.

“Are there any?”

“What?”

“Other Wizards?” Bilbo questioned, a few meters behind her.

“There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. And then there are the two Blue Wizards... You know, I've quite forgotten their names.”

“And the fifth?”

“That would be Radagast the Brown.”

“Oh, I just recalled him! He is a genuinely nice fellow.” Kirenia intervened.

“Is he a great wizard, or is he more like you?”

Kirenia’s bottom jaw dropped open slightly, turning to stare wide-eyed at the hobbit. Gandalf gave Bilbo the side-eye, readjusting his seat and holding any commentary on the insult.

“I think he is a very great Wizard, in his own way”, he answered with candour. “He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals for others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too.”

“What about Kirenia?”. This time Nori joined the conversation.

“What about myself? I am not a Wizard but a mage.”

“Well…what’s the difference, then?”

The mage and Gandalf shared a knowingly look, and she sighed before turning to face the curious dwarf.

“She has greater power than meets the eye… more than she even knows herself.” Gandalf interrupted. “And I fear the occasion for her to show us will present itself soon enough.”

Nori and Kirenia shared a look, the dwarf bearing an amazed expression. It seemed his curiosity was calmed for the time being. The mage, on the contrary, was beaming with pride at his dear friend’s words. But she also lacked confident in herself and was afraid to disappoint him terribly. In truth, not only Gandalf, but the whole company expected some worthy actions from her. After all, she had just tagged along, totally uninvited. She became silent until they all reached a place to spend the night, lost in her own thoughts.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped. The only annoyance now was the icy wind slapping her face. She brought her hands to her mouth trying to warm them in vain. Kirenia was shivering and the only thought that occupied her mind was to build the fire and seat as close to it as possible. Thorin started giving out orders and soon camp was set, and everyone had a task to complete. Kirenia went along with Bofur to collect more firewood, an impossibly difficult task, given that the forest around them was still humid and wet. A slight fog had descended upon them and the air became misty. She could feel the damp cold seeping through her cloak as they returned to camp.

“Are you alright?” Your nose is very red, and your lips are turning blue”. Fili asked her when she saw her seating beside the fire. She emitted a grunt in response and held a finger to touch his temple, whose contact made him jump back, startled.

“Mahal, you are freezing”.

“I will be fine”, she uttered.

Kili closed the gap between them and sat beside Kirenia, offering her his fur-lined coat, which she stubbornly refused.

“Will you just take it? You are shivering so hard it’s making my teeth rattle”.

He gently put his coat over Kirenia’s shoulders, making sure to tug her well in it. The inside still held Kili’s warmth and it was pleasantly dry. The mage nodded in acknowledgment and muttered a “thank you” to the inside of the coat. Only her face from the nose upwards was visible now. It would be a comical sight if it weren’t for the poor state she was in, sniffling from time to time and still shaking. The brothers stared at her, a worried expression crossing their faces.

When Bombur had finished preparing the night’s dinner, Kili sauntered over her with a steamy bowl in each hand. She eyed the content with little appetite and only took the bowl to warm her hands. The princes, sitting on each side of her, did not cease in their intents to make her eat. Finally, Fili took the untouched bowl off her hands, frowning as he deposited it next to Bombur. When he came back, he started chiding the woman about keeping her strength and it being a waste, but Kirenia barely heard any words. Her lips and throat were dry, her sight out of focus and she was still shivering, even though her skin burnt. Fili reached a hand to touch her forehead.

“She is burning up”, he exclaimed in Oin’s direction. Kili, as well as all the others, fixed their gaze on the mage, who was pale and sneezing repeatedly.

“Kirenia, why didn’t you speak up before?”. Fili chided.

“We need to stop her fever”. Oin sat in front of her, his medical supplies in hand. “Kili, be a good lad and fetch me some cool water”.

The prince nearly stumbled in his effort to do as he was told as quickly as possible, a worried look not leaving his face.

“Strip her”. Thorin’s voice boomed over to the small group gathered around the woman.

“Uncle!”

“Her clothes must be damp; she needs to dry first. That’s probably the reason she came down with the fever”.

“Yes, b-but…” Fili trailed off, gazing at the figure huddled in his arms.

“Do you want her to improve or not? Use your coats to cover her up”. Thorin snapped.

“He is right, lad.” Oin gave him a knowingly look.

[OC’s POV]

Several hours have passed since the dreadful rain stopped. The company had found a relatively dry flatland to set up camp for the night and you had done your best to keep up and complete your tasks. But by the time dinner was ready, you were huddled up in Kili’s large coat beside the fire, just shivering and feeling worse at each passing minute. You felt your nose running, your feet were still damp and cold, as was your hair and every inch of your skin. When the brunette prince offered you a bowl to fill your belly you almost refused it right away, but then you thought it would at least warm your hands. However, you couldn’t force yourself to eat, having lost all appetite and your only wish being to lay down and forget all about this awful day.

You heard voices around you but couldn’t make out the meaning of the words. You felt light-headed and a tiredness overcame you without you realizing it. Only when some hands started touching your body, taking off your boots and unlacing your leather corset you snapped out of your dizzy state.

You focused your sight and saw Fili and Oin looming over you, the first with an embarrassed expression you had never seen before, the latter with a stoic look and confident movements setting a blanket over the bottom part of your body.  

“Wait…” you mumbled. Fili’s hands stopped right where they were, around the collar of your blouse.  “I can do it myself.”

He cleared his throat, and a relieved sigh escaped his lips.

“Y-Yes, sure, I will cover you up with my coat, lass.”

After a tortuous while when you felt like every muscle in your body complaint, you laid down on the bedroll that someone had gently extended by the fire and buried yourself in a pile of blankets and coats with nothing on but your undergarments. At least they would dry quick enough so you wouldn’t have to take them off too. The whole situation was embarrassing enough as it was. Kili, perched by your side, spent his watch delicately rubbing a wet cloth over your sweating face whilst you drifted off into a restless slumber.

[Third person’s POV]

Kili and Bofur were both on watch duty during the first couple of hours, but the brunette prince didn’t mind it one bit. Not this time. He didn’t leave Kirenia’s side the whole time, gently stroking her hair and just looking at her evenly breath. It pained him to see her frown burrowed even though she was finally asleep, knowing that the mage would spend a rough night. Kili took one of her tiny hands in his callous ones, feeling her temperature was returning to normal and her fever coming down. He felt a hole in the back of his head as Bofur’s gaze was fixed in him but didn’t mind the teasing he would have to endure from his companions. His mind was occupied with only one thought: Kirenia was sick and he was there to comfort her.

The young woman stirred in her sleep, emitting a soft moan. Kili dropped her hand abruptly, not wanting to wake her. His coat slid off one of her shoulders, leaving her bare skin in plain sight. By the firelight, it glowed and looked more beautiful than ever despite her scars, he thought to himself. But as much as he wanted to caress her skin, he forced himself to re-adjust the numerous coats and blankets covering her, tucking Kirenia in again.

[OC’s POV]

Morning came along with the cheery chirping of birds and a nice, blue sky above their heads. Kirenia stirred in her bedroll and turned to see a certain raven-haired sleeping prince facing her. She felt a sudden urge to reach a hand and brush his fringe off his eyes but couldn’t bring herself to move. She just stared at the prince, feeling grateful to have met him and his brother. Sometimes she thought that they were the only ones in the company who actually tolerated her (apart from Gandalf, that is). A deep sigh escaped her lips and her head turned in the opposite direction when the sound of rustling and thumps reached her ears. Thorin was approaching, a stern look on his face. He was the only one awake at the moment and the woman debated between facing him now or pretend to sleep. Either way, she would have to face the king’s chiding and anger sooner or later.

Kirenia sat up straight in her bedroll, catching Thorin’s eye. She tried to keep covered with his nephew’s coat, realizing her state of undress. The dwarf king retraced his steps and sauntered over the mage, his serious gesture not letting away any emotions.

“Good morning, Thorin”

“How are you feeling?”, the dwarf cur her off.

“I am much better, thank you.” She bowed her head sightly, feeling nervous. She didn’t know what to expect from him. Surely, he would be fuming because she had made a nuisance of herself. The very same thing she promised wouldn’t happen, yet she’s been the first to fall sick during the journey.

“Is your fever gone?”

“Yes, I believe it is.”. She rested her hand on her forehead for a moment, assessing her state of health. Luckily, all she felt now was hunger.

“Good. Get dressed and eat something, we will leave soon.”

She stared at the king, who strode off to the other side of camp to waken Dwalin and Balin, then the other members of the company.

Through the camp groans and yawns could be heard and everyone started to rouse. Kili’s eyes fluttered open and saw Kirenia already awake, her cheeks rose and her eyes limpid. He let go a sigh of relief and patted her arm gently.

“How is our sleeping beauty feeling today?”

She turned to him, a serious look on her face.

“Kili, I… I just want to say I am sorry for the trouble I caused last night.” She looked at him with an apologetic smile planted in her lips and brows furrowed.

“What are you talking about? Do not be silly.”

“And thank you for lending me your coat.” She rose up, still enveloped in the large coat, and gathered her own clothes that were laid down beside the now extinguished fire. “I am just going to get dressed and give it back to you.”

“You know, I am rather cold.” Kili pretended to shiver and glanced at Kirenia coyly. “You should give it to me now.”

She stared at him for a moment, then started to take it off very slowly.

“Very well.”

The prince blushed, not catching her playful tone and bluff. The mage just laughed at his stunned expression and turned on her heels, marching towards a more private space behind the bushes.

[jaygrl22]

OCtober day 11: craft

this one was a bit tricky, so i went with one of my minor ocs, Tarelen (aka Hush). Didn’t realize just how much he preferred using the others’ nicknames until i started typing! anyway here’s my elf boi making a gift for his dumb human crush, Silks (aka Kàde).

@oc-growth-and-development

---

Hush quietly whittled the wood in his hand. He was more than aware of the nearby templars watching him. Mages in the Tower weren’t normally allowed anything sharper than a quill tip, let alone an actual knife.

He still couldn’t believe the First Enchanter had allowed it. And all he had to do in return was stay at this table as he worked and turn the knife in before he left the room. It was quite the deal. Considering who his friends were and the sort of trouble they got into, he was always pleasantly surprised whenever Irving and Greagoir allowed him to do anything special like this.

Then again, out of the lot of them, Hush knew he was the most respectable of the group. He’d undergone his Harrowing at a far younger age than most of the mages in the Tower and passed with flying colors. For a long time, he’d been the only fully-fledged mage until Trouble passed his. But, as Trouble was always in trouble, he'd lost most of the perks that came with the rank before even earning it.

He imagined the next in line would be Silks. The Orlesian-born mage was skilled, if not a bit flashy, but Hush still couldn’t help but worry how he would react upon realize he had to fight off a demon. Knowing Silks, it would probably be a desire demon, or maybe even Pride.

Hush hoped it wasn’t. He hoped it would be something easy, like a rage demon. He’d probably still run around screaming for a bit, but he was clever. He’d figure something out and defeat it.

If not… If anything happened to that ridiculous boy… If Hush lost him…

He shook his head, focusing on the carving in his hands. Silks would be fine. He was sure of it. But, just to be safe, he was making him a—

“Hush!”

The elf froze. Speak of the wolf and he will appear.

Silks grinned across from him, taking a seat. “Here you are, my dear Hush. I was looking for you all morning. I thought maybe you were causing some mischief without me,” he said with a wink.

Hush scoffed, continuing his work. As if he would do anything so obvious. Causing a ruckus in the middle of the day was Silks and Fauna’s style, not his. Hush was far more careful with his trickery than them. So careful in fact that few in the Tower even believed he took part in their group’s mischief making.

Silks nodded at the wooden figure. “What’s that?”

His cheeks warmed. “A gift,” he muttered.

“Oh, for who? Is it for me?” Silks’s smile grew. “It’s for me, isn’t it?”

Hush ignored him.

“You’re blushing. It’s for me.”

He glared at the smug shem. Silks orange eyes were dancing with mirth as he smirked across the table. Hush let out a low grumble, his face getting even hotter.

“It looks very nice,” Silks said sweetly. “You’re so talented, Hush. I wish I could take you to my family’s estate in Val Royeaux. We have the loveliest white trees along the south wall.” He sighed, getting that faraway look in his eye when he talked about his old home. “I’d bet you could make something brilliant out of those trees...”

Hush hummed, trying not to enjoy the praise too much, but was pleased to know his small talent was enough to capture his eye. Despite living in Ferelden’s Circle Tower longer than the rest of them, Silks still had his expensive tastes. That was why they called him “Silks” in the first place.

“I see you smiling, Hush.”

“I’m not.”

Silks laughed and Hush felt his heart beat faster. 

“Whatever you say, my love,” he teased.

Hush sighed, wishing he wouldn’t say such things so carelessly. He wondered if he would call him those sweet names without the humor… But that would be bad. Mages weren’t allowed to have relationships. If the templars suspected anything serious between them, they might send one or both of them to other Circles as punishment. Hush didn’t want his family to be ripped apart because he couldn’t keep his stupid feelings in check.

“Kàde,” a soft voice hissed. They turned their heads to see Flames hurrying over to the table. “Kàde, Lav’s going to set nug dung on fire in the barracks. You need to stop her or they’re gonna throw her in a cell for a month!”

Hush groaned. Fauna was always doing something ridiculous like that. It was as if she enjoyed being on the templar’s Most Hated list. He was, as always, extremely grateful for Flames’s clairvoyance. If not for her warnings, they would’ve been torn apart a long time ago by their own stupid actions.

Silks shook his head. “That elf has a death wish, I swear. Thank you, Elia,” he said standing with a smile. “Why don’t you stay and keep Hush company?”

“Because you won’t find her in time if I do,” she said fidgeting.

He huffed. “Fine, fine. You’ll be alright alone a while, darling?” he asked with that teasing grin.

“Go away, Silks,” Hush growled.

The shem laughed and headed for the stairs.

Flames stayed behind a moment, then smiled at him. “You have no idea how happy he’s going to be when you give that to him,” she said pointing to the carving in his hand.

“Will he like it?” he mumbled, his cheeks getting warm again.

The white-haired girl smiled and nodded as she turned to follow their friend. “He’s going to love it, Hush. He’ll be speechless!”

Hush snorted out a laugh and went back to his whittling. Silks? Speechless? He shook his head, grinning. He’d believe that when he saw it himself.

[grayintogreen]

NO FUCK IT. I mentioned Death Cleric!Sesshomaru and no one asked how, but I’m gonna tell you how, anyway, because I love the idea too much and thought about it ALL FUCKING DAY. So now you have to live with the knowledge that I told you how to build him...... as an NPC because a lot of this requires way too much DM approval for something that will probably make all your nerd friends call you a weeb, and when you’re the DM, no one can call you a weeb because you’re playing a death cleric with a Blight Sword.

Let’s begin.

ABILITY SCORES

Sesshoumaru’s highest stat should be his Wisdom, not just because it determines his caster DC, but also because it helps his Insight and Survival checks, which are probably his two most used skill checks (does he always succeed at survival checks or does he just wander around and somehow accidentally manage to always be where the action is??? Who knows).

Constitution should be his next highest. He takes a lot of hits and as a combat oriented caster, he’s GONNA need to be tanky to hell and back. 

Dexterity should be his next highest- Sesshomaru relies primarily on his speed and agility in fights and given he’s gonna be spellslinging more than anything, so the extra boost to AC is more important than an extra strength modifier to your damage- especially when your main sword deals 2d6 necrotic damage on every hit (more on that later).

Strength is next, since he’s no slouch. Which leaves us with the final two- Intelligence and Charisma. Now ideally, Sesshomaru’s dump stats would still be over 10, just because of who he is as a person, but if you’re rolling it properly, that’s not always going to be feasible unless you roll bonkers well. In canon, Intelligence is his dump stat, and I’d agree it’s probably the best choice, because while he’s not a simpleton, he doesn’t always have more than one braincell to rub together. I wouldn’t knock Charisma as a dump stat, however, just for comedy’s sake. Sesshomaru may be aristocratic and attractive, but he’s bigoted, blunt, prefers to walk away rather than come up with a lie or even a legitimate answer, and generally about as charismatic as a hot pocket on most days. He gets away with it, because he’s pretty, but let’s be real, Jaken is where he keeps his Charisma and that is saying a lot about how little he really has.

(No, really, Jaken does ALL the talking and negotiating for him. That little bitch has all the ranks in Persuasion, and none for Sesshomaru byyeeee.)

SPELLS

The good thing about clerics is they custom pick their own spells so even if you created a Sesshomaru-skinned death cleric and then he had a massive change of heart, you can still have him start to prep the heals, but as a starter pack, no heals here. 

Death Clerics are good at one thing- making things dead. It’s all in the name. Their specialty is necrotic damage which is… mostly decay and rot and undead things, obviously. Now, Sesshomaru’s main aesthetic is poison/corrosive acid (it varies okay), so whatever poison/acid spells you can nab, go for it, but there’s also no reason that any of the special nasty necrotic spells like Inflict Wounds can’t have some of that weird corrosive flavor. Honestly, the poison claw is basically Inflict Wounds, already, just battery acid-flavored.

But wait, there’s more!  A spiritual weapon that looks like an acid whip? Done.

Being so good at making things degenerate and rot that even things that resist that kind of thing start rotting? Hey, we got a channel divinity for that!

I’m not going to go too deeply into this because spells are picked on the daily, but Sesshomaru as a cleric is 100% the asshole who picks the same spells every day and they are always fucking damage dealing. Seriously, if you played Sesshomaru as a cleric in an actual D&D party and he was the only cleric, the party would kill him (if he didn’t kill them first).

Also, hilariously, Death Clerics get Cloudkill as a bonus spell at 9th level, which is really just miasma, but no one ever said this would be note perfect. Just enjoy the irony.

WEAPONS/EQUIPMENT

Also known as “Sesshomaru has exactly enough attunement slots for all of this!”

Tenseiga: Literally just a legendary +1 sword that can cast Resurrection and only damages things of the undead subtype. The stipulation on the Resurrection spell is that it can be used on a single person once, so even if you can bypass needing diamonds to rez a person by using it, you only get one freebie for the same person. Also you’d like… have to get him to use it. Fun hook for your campaign! Party seeks wandering death cleric with healing sword who likes murdering people. 

Bakusaiga: Another legendary sword (honestly I’d put it at a +2, because it’s just that badass) that deals 2d6 necrotic damage on every successful hit and can cast Blight once per long rest. It’s a Blight Sword.. Just… Look at it. It’s a Blight sword.

Armor: The very nice +2 leather armor includes the mokomoko, which has been enchanted to cast Fly. Of course. 

If you want to include Tokijin as a weaker option to the obnoxiousness that Is Bakusaiga, then it’s probably just a fancy sword that deals lightning damage. Sometimes the lightning looks like a dragon! Because no one said it couldn’t.

BACKSTORY

Backstory is a little harder to spin into a cohesive narrative in most D&D settings, but also not hard at all- parent issues and birthright bullshit is the bread and butter of a good character backstory and/or subplot. Just say he’s the descendant of some minor echelon deity (think The Traveler or Vesh in Critical Role) whom he serves simply due to pride even if he’s an angry shithead who is real mad that Deity Daddy gave his younger, idiot brother a better blade and destiny than him, and left him with cleric powers and an ultimately weaker weapon. 

HE DIDN’T ASK TO BE THE WHITE MAGE, DAD. Obviously, this part is very much up to your discretion, but that’s how I feel about getting the most reliable amount of canon-compliant resentment out of a character meant to invoke nostalgia and probably kill your party.

So there you go, one tanky murder hobo cleric of death. That knowledge is out in the world. You’re welcome.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose ch. 67 - The War Dog in the Slips

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: None Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland, Cailan/Anora (background) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

-------

This letter is written on fine paper, in a steady if slightly scrawling hand, pressed with the seal of a rose in burgundy wax.

 Twelfth day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Dear Cailan,

Rosslyn agreed to marry me! She said yes, can you believe it? I know Brantis says personal matters should come after business in official correspondence, but this is important. She’s going to be my wife. I know I didn’t tell you I planned to ask her, or really ask permission, and I’m sorry for that. Everything after the battle was so muddled. To be honest when I did the words sort of slipped out without me really thinking about them, but I know you’ll be happy for me – us. There’s an us now.

Fergus has agreed to the match, to make it official as the head of her household, although Rosslyn said she would have challenged him to a duel if he’d refused, and of course after all the excitement died down she just had to go and be clever and point out there would need to be a wedding if I really wanted her to be my wife.

Since I do (very much) that’s part of the reason for this letter – neither of us know how to plan a wedding. The last one either of us attended was yours, and of course we didn’t have any hand in the arrangements. Rosslyn (my wife-to-be!) has been quiet about it, but I know she feels a bit out of her depth and misses the experience her parents might have shared with her, but we would both be honoured if you and Anora would lend your wisdom. She is writing a similar request to her grandparents in the Storm islands, and – she’s just smiled at me and now I’ve completely lost my train of thought. I never thought I’d be so lucky.

In any case, we should be with you in Denerim within two weeks, though our departure from Highever may be delayed for a few more days. R is worried about her brother’s condition, even though Enchanter Amell has agreed to stay behind and continue as his healer, and she herself is recovering only slowly from her injuries – slower than she would like, anyway. She has resumed training since you left, and is determined as I’ve ever seen her. Despite the strain, she’s insistent on learning the use of her left hand for more than just shieldwork. I understand why, but she keeps accusing me of clucking over her like a broody hen. I would have thought I’d merit something a little more impressive, like a dragon, or maybe a griffin. When I say that it makes her laugh, at least, so it isn’t all bad.

But I cannot take up an entire letter talking only about my betrothed(!) when the report of your victory in Denerim lies on the desk in front of me. We hope all is well, and that casualties have been minimal. We have also received news of unrest in Amaranthine, from both the banns and the people, which I hope won’t cause too much of a delay in us joining you, but aid has to be brought to the freeholders and sedition routed before it really takes root. One day, we’ll have a year where the entire country isn’t at its own throat – won’t that be nice.

Your brother,

Alistair

PS, She knows about the book. I’ll say no more and only mentioned this much because otherwise you’ll ask and then she’ll ask why I’m blushing and then I’ll have to tell her. Just know I’m happier than I thought possible, and that your advice is something I don’t know how to repay.

--

Cailan’s grip on the letter warped the paper as he scanned it a second time, the carefree betrayal of happiness turning a sour feeling in his stomach. His thoughts were unworthy of him, but shadows had preyed on his mind since the battle at Highever, twisting even the most innocent of gestures into cynical attacks, and it took effort not to perceive every line as a slight. He ought to be happy for Alistair, that his brother and Rosslyn had found contentment together, but the snide hollow in his mind that had been gaining a louder and louder voice in recent days pricked at the fragile walls he tried to build around his charity. Would it really be too far a stretch to believe the letter a veiled crow of triumph, his half-brother gloating that he had won the affection of the woman who rallied armies around her with a mere word and whose smile lit her face like the first grace of morning? To think of the queen she would have made…

She blamed him for what happened to her, he knew. He had been too paralysed by the strange terror that had come over him to run to her aid before the walls of Castle Cousland, and that shameful hesitation had almost cost her life. The sudden still on the battlefield haunted him. The shriek of pierced metal and the silence that followed chased him through his nightmares every time he closed his eyes, mocking him, goading him with the lack that everyone had seen in him since he took the throne. Maric would not have hesitated so; the great rebel king who had saved Ferelden would have rushed to put himself before the blade, would have won the heart of the fair maiden, would have halted Loghain’s descent into madness before it even began and thereby spared his subjects the chaos of war.

And Alistair – his brother was a proven warrior, amiable and respected. What had Rosslyn seen in him that she had not seen in the king himself? The pair of them must laugh at him, whispering secrets and plans in their bower as they held each other close. They had stood against Eamon, and won the trust of the Storm Islands – how short a leap it would be, with the other deals they must have made in Orzammar, and the Bannorn, and across the Waking Sea, for them to supplant him. When they reached Denerim, the people would cheer them as deserving heroes and the court would fawn over them while he looked on and was forced to smile even as they drove the dagger into his back.

One of the logs in the fire cracked and fell into two pieces. As the sparks vanished up the chimney, Cailan rubbed a hand down the side of his face and deliberately folded the letter from Alistair before laying it aside on the desk. He was sleeping poorly, and the fatigue made him restless, suspicious. On some days, even Anora turned into an enemy, one whose movements he tracked down to the wine she poured for him, so that he might discover any hint she still took her father’s side and only waited to overthrow him. In those moments, he dreaded that Rosslyn had told the queen of the half-baked plan to divorce her, and any protest from the more valiant part of himself was smothered by the knowledge that the Gwaren soldiers paroled at Highever had sworn their loyalty to his wife, and not to him.

“The people are starving, the nobles discontented, and sleep will not come for me,” he grunted, reaching for the decanter of brandy he had set on the table next to him. “I suffer nothing more.” The lies slipped away more easily with drink, and the fog that settled over him was preferable to the chase of dreams through his mind, the swirls of green smoke and voices calling out in reproach.

Next to him, an elderly mabari with milky eyes and a grey mask of fur around her muzzle lifted her head to whine at him.

“I know, Biscuit. I should know better than to disturb your naps with my malaising.” He reached down to stroke her head as she dropped it on his lap. “Any insight you can give me into Loghain’s plans would be helpful.”

There was the truly disturbing part. Rosslyn’s bartered blood mage had revealed that Erimond had planned to open a gateway to the Fade using the bloodshed at Highever, and whether or not Loghain had been party to the full plan, only luck had turned the battle’s purpose before the ritual was completed. All intelligence now pointed to a search for an equally powerful source of entropic energy. Regardless of whether Erimond found it, the threat to Ferelden now went beyond mundane civil war.

Biscuit whined again, and added her paw to Cailan’s knee, looking up with the same imploring, white-rimmed gaze she had first used on him as a pup when he had walked through the kennels on his twentieth birthday. The door to the study opened and he caught the smell of lavender and orange flowers, Anora’s winter perfume, and the tap of her shoes on the floorboards. Tail wagging, the dog creaked to her feet and limped over to ask for attention from the newcomer.

“What do you have there?” the queen asked as she bent to scratch between Biscuit’s shoulders. Her gaze swept over the accounts and reports organised on his desk, the ones he had been perusing when his thoughts took their dark turn. At first, she had been surprised that he applied himself voluntarily to bureaucracy, had been snide about Rosslyn’s apparent ability to train him to paperwork when his own wife could not, but in the time since arriving in Denerim, she had offered only help. He pushed away the thought that she was just waiting for him to prove himself incompetent and offered her a smile.

“It’s a letter from Alistair,” he said. “My brother has asked Lady Rosslyn to marry him, and she has accepted.”

She nodded. “They deserve some happiness after all of this – her especially. It is a shame her parents are not here to marry them out of her own house.”

“A greater shame that they were murdered,” he replied.

Anora pursed her lips, deciding whether to rise to the bait, but straightened her shoulders after a moment and crossed the room to lay yet more papers onto his desk.

“I came to bring you the scout reports from the Southron Hills,” she told him. “Though I hope you will not linger as late tonight as you did yesterday. You need your rest, and Ferelden needs it too.”

Meeting the pale blue gaze, Cailan slumped. His wife stood with the same neutral poise that had so fascinated him growing up, her hands folded in front of her and every golden hair on her head perfectly set in place, waiting for him to respond. And he was being unworthy, as sulky as he ever was as a teenager realising his life would never truly be just his alone. The events of the past year were not her fault; Loghain had used them both to further his own ambitions.

“Forgive me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am suffering a lack of sleep, now I think on it.”

The narrow shoulders, held so stiff and straight, relaxed slightly. “I worry for you.”

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he suggested, conviction settling the tremor in his voice. “We can… talk.”

“I am at my husband’s disposal, of course,” she answered, the smile she turned on him guarded, but genuine in the way it brought a crease to the corners of her eyes.

“Good. That’s – good.”

The past could not be undone, but nor could he step forward with despair keeping pace like a hound at his heels. Unless he fixed the problems that had led to war in the first place, he might find himself sitting in the very same position at some point in the not-so-distant future, presiding over a divided court with bodies towering on both sides. It was not just a habit for paperwork Rosslyn had drilled into him over the months on campaign; her wisdom haunted him. One who cannot keep the peace has not yet won it.

[mysterylover123]

Mysterylover watches Bleach episodes 42-43

1. RENJI’S BACK!! Feels like it’s been awhile. And...he’s being woken up by a monkey. Huh. Not how I expected this episode to open.

2. Back to Ichigo vs RukiBro. (Yes I know he has a name, Byakuya. But for now I prefer RukiBro). And the arrival of Yoruichi aka Hot Cat Lady. 

3. Um did CatLady just try to kill Ichigo? I thought she was on our side! Or is this a Genjutsu kinda thing? (a few seconds later) OK it’s a drug. 

4. Ooh so RukiBro and CatGirl have a history, huh? Dangerously tempted to start shipping them now. And their banter is pretty hot too. Also WTF? Another training montage? CAN WE JUST RESCUE RUKIA ALREADY DAMMIT

5. Is it me or is this Sentaro guy doing more to try and save Rukia then our heroes are right now?! The leads keep getting caught up in ego-fights or (I’m assuming) going out for drive-thru (Uryu and Hime Where the F are you) and the Reapers who like Ruki are like “We’ll do everything we can”. Damn. Sure are showing up our leads right now.

6. HOLY SHIT KNOCK ON WOOD THERE THEY ARE! Like 2 seconds after I complained about them missing again, there’s Hime and Uryu! It feels like it’s been forever. GET OFF HER COMMANDER CREEP. SHE’S GOT A WIFE BACK HOME WAITING FOR HER. AND ALSO SHE’S LIKE 16. GTFO.

7. Every word out of Orihime’s mouth is reminding me why I love her. And this plan was hers, of course, because she’s the smartest and the best. And I’m starting to think Uryu has a crush on her. (and who could blame him).

8. ”I learned some Karate from Tatsuki” YES.  “I was thinking I was with Tatsuki again” immediately starts stripping. Because Tatsuki is her wife. OMG I MISSED HER SO MUCH. Please go save Rukia right the F now. 

9. Isn’t this like the 5th time this arc that Ichigo has been so badly beaten he needs nursing? At this rate he’s spent more time in the hospital than Deku does and that’s gotta be a record. 

10. Dammit why do they keep talking up RukiBro like nobody could possibly kill him? Like, maybe he is super strong but they gotta at least try to save Ruki!

11. YES WE’RE OPENING UP EPISODE 43 WITH ORIHIME. Thank goodnes. Her fairy friend warrior is injured, oh noes. I mean they’re kinda dicks but they do help her out so I don’t want them to get hurt. And Hime is guilty about it!

12. Ooh and Hime’s gonna have a training montage too? YAS. This scene is so weirdly sentimental. “Not suited for combat”? Well he does have a point that Orihime is a bit of a pacifist. Though it’s a little annoying that the most OP badass member of the squad is getting benched from fighting, i’m guessing, cause she be a girl.

13. Oh man wtf did you creeps do to Hime and Uryu? And this squad of nice soul reapers?! And of course Hime saves everyone and feels bad about not saving enough people. Oh god I’ve missed her.

14. “Is she crying out of fear” bitch please Orihime knows no fear. She tried to save the enemies and is sad she didn’t save enough. Skullface has recognized that Hime is OP but is planning to experiment on her. So he’s cancelled, but at least he recognizes  greatness when he sees it.

15. Squad dude calls her a “delicate woman’ Hime promptly bites him. I’m starting to realize that she’s like the girl version of Goku. I feel like the series is going out of it’s way to get her out of the fight because if she was involved it’d be over too quickly. 

16. Apropos of nothing, Uryu and Hime look real good in those  Soul Reaper uniforms. Like, dayum. They’re already the prettiest characters and now they’re sharp-dressed too.

17. And skullface has hurt his lieutenant? and punched her? And doesn’t  care she’s dying? My god soul reaper society is so freaking cancelled. 

18. Wow Uryu. Like 5 seconds fighting without Hime and you’re basically dead already. Getting rid of her was such a dumb idea. Sure, get rid of your Shield and White Mage while you’re fighting an OP opponent. Seems like a great idea.

19. Uryu gonna protect the Lieutenant now? Yas. He and Hime being kind to to their foes, cause they’re the best.

20. OMG WTF?! “collecting bodies” experimenting, good god so fucking cancelled. and this guy killed Uryu’s master? PLEASE KILL HIM URYU. “MY NAME IS URYU ISHIDA. YOU KILLED MY MASTER. PREPARE TO DIE”. 

[happyvoidharmony]

Just a look.4

rating : M (in the next chapters)

pairing : Miraxus (Laxus/Mirajane)

found : FF.net AO3

Chapter : 4/7

Two weeks had past.  Mirajane had once again resumed the simple life she led most naturally. She worked, chatted with her sister, brother and a few friends like Erza, worked, slept, and worked again. She sure was fond of her routine. Not knowing if it was the peacefulness or the stability that it offered her, but she loved it.

However, a light spot obscured this perfect picture. Two spots if properly speaking: boredom and him. The second one although succeeded in partially making the first one disappear. The thunder mage had gone on an S class job six days ago with his team, without giving any news of course. That was however not what helped with her boredom.

She didn’t mind what he was doing right now, why would she? No, her thoughts were kept with the strange tension building between them during the last few days. Finally able to put a word on it. Tension. Was any other word able to describe it? To define the long silence and heavy looks and with  both pleasant and uncomfortable pressure in her gut? Not forgetting discomfort of her lower stomach during those times.  

Tension

But it was still not enough to understand it. She had tried dozens of features, but nothing perfectly suited it. Was it a rather electric? Romantic? Sexual? The white haired woman chuckled as she thought of the first one, rather ironic to describe about the dragon slayer. But leaving it and only keeping the other two seemed however too close to a lie.  

The young woman had never shared her thoughts with anyone, not even what caused them. How was she supposed to admit to a guild member that she had remained frozen before Laxus? And more, a mage from the guild, a childhood friend with whom she had had more than one fight. Her pride firstly prohibited her. Then in reality, the embarrassment.  

Confessing her helplessness in front of him was one thing, the desire he had been able to give birth in her was a completely different one. And yet, one did not go without the other. Finally, it wasn’t a sexual desire. Not completely. There was something else. Like an irrepressible desire to come near him and share something. But mostly sexual.

And then, she had to admit it: she had wanted to sleep with him. She frowned. What would have happened in that room if they had known each other just a little less well? Would she had not rejected the idea and swallowed up her pride? Would they have given in? Had he even felt it? His own desire like hers. Was she wrong? Did the heavy looks he offered her had another meaning? She had felt it though.    

She tilted her head back to refocus her thoughts on her task. Namely, record the last received jobs. A too much difficult task with such a hazy mind. Just thinking about it, impatience twisted her gut and disturbing tickling mimicked the touch of his firm hands on her burning skin. Her head suddenly shook. Work. Work. Work.

Her younger sister expectantly chose this moment to appear at her side. The young woman jumped and stared at her who had just came up in the library. They stayed like that for a few seconds before the youngest uttered a few words:

“Are you really sure you’re okay?”

Those were the only words she had since the crying incident. Not giving up however how many times the demonic mage told her she was great. Rightly so. How would you believe in the well-being of your eldest when she suddenly starts to weep and get lost in her thoughts for no apparent reason?

“I already told you, everything’s fine.” The latter replied with a bright smile.  

Lisanna slowly nodded, frowning, obviously not really convinced. She had inquired for days with her sister to find out what happened with the dragon slayer, with no results. Mirajane had tried to tell her he’s come to check on her and left as quickly as he had arrived. To which she replied that it was surprising given his way too much mischievous smirk when he offered his help. The young woman hadn't answered that, she had just stared at her tea with a sigh, and her sister had given up hope of getting any answer.

She remained worried. Truthfully, she had sent Laxus because she knew he had spoken to her just before she started crying and knew he must have had something to do with it. She had wanted to get him an opportunity to apologies. What he had obviously done, but she wasn’t sure that her sister's new thoughtful state was a great improvement.

The demonic mage once again focused on the complaints in front of her. As the master grew older, it was not uncommon for her to fill them for him. But despite her good will, the requests were piling up and the dedicated pile seemed on an unlimited growth.

Jobs poorly-executed. Rude behavior ; Disturbances of public order. And above all, destruction. Again and always more destruction. A wonder how the government hadn’t already locked them all up yet. Natsu was obviously the biggest threat but he was far from being the only one and even Wendy, the best-behaved of the group was the subject of a complaint for destruction of a residential area.                

The white-haired woman heavily sighed in despair and her head fell into the palms of her hands. How could she manage to reply to all complaints before midnight? If only they were a bit distracting... complaints were merely repeating themselves. She grabbed the next letter from her pile, opened the envelope with meticulousness and patience, praying it would be out of the ordinary.

The result was rather disappointing. The huge title above the piece of paper and the words Request for reparation following the devastation of the town of Hargeon and the eastern forest met her eyes. Who’s the goddamn idiot that did that? Her mind froze when she read the name on the complaint and a desperate but amused smile appeared on her lips. Laxus Dreyar. Of course.    

She examined the request with a new found interest. Curious about what this idiot had done again. Unfortunately, nothing particularly new. Just a shortened neighborhood and the wood’s biodiversity in serious danger. How could someone be so reckless? Natsu could still pretend to some stupidity that could prevent him from thinking about the consequences, but Laxus was supposed to at least think about it, if not just stable.

The young woman let out her most beautiful breath of despair. Perhaps it was time to stop doing paperwork for today, only undermining her mental health. She put the different papers back and hurried back upstairs to resume her word, ready to do something productive with her evening.

Suddenly, a weird figure jumped on her, screaming as she reached the top of the stairs. Startled, her foot slipped along with her center of gravity as she fell back. Her throat gasped, her hand forcefully grabbed the railing but her chest continued to fall against the wall, strong pain spread through her skull and her mind suddenly got clouded.

When she opened her eyes, she was still standing, clinging to the railing with her right hand and to the figure which she had kept tight against her with her left one. The form withdrew from the embrace and started inquiring with questions she couldn’t quite yet get.

“Mirajane-san? Are you all right? Are you okay?” She finally managed to understand after a few seconds. She stared at the blue haired figure rushing around her as she felt other people approaching with concern. She nodded slowly as she regained her senses, the faces’ features gradually taking shape.

“I’m... okay...” She uttered. “Ouch!” She exclaimed as her pain went on.    

“Sorry Mira !” She heard from a pink haired figure. ‘I was trying to scare Wendy with gelatin!”    

The boy's voice was laughing, which a little annoyed the young woman. She forced herself to smile and stammered a few words to reassure everyone.

“It's nothing.”

She began to reach the back of the counter, followed by a hundred eyes who tried to detect in her the slightest sign of pain. Her younger sister joined her with the most worried look of all.

“Are you sure you're okay? Your head really got hit fast!”  

“Don’t worry. It was nothing.”  She replied, smiling brightly.

Terrible pain scratched her skull as if a dozen daggers were sinking in turn. She rubbed the back of her head and the pain instantly increased, pulling a grimace which she hurriedly hid with a smile. Attention gradually abandoned her and people slowly resumed their activities.

The girl came closer to the counter and asked again about the state of the white. She accompanied her words with an avalanche of apologies. Mirajane tried to explain to her that no harm had been done - although his head was still terribly suffering from the shock - and that so many apologies were too much. A deep voice rose on the side.

“You're lucky she caught you.” The voice said. “Anyone else would have thrown you down the stairs.”

He was quietly sitting in front of his beer. When had he come back? Was that supposed to be a compliment? How long had he been sitting here? Why hadn't she noticed him earlier? The lightning mage seemed surprisingly rested for someone returning from a long job. Usually, he didn't bother coming to the guild at this time and preferred to go straight home. So what was he doing here?    

“Someone like you for instance?” The young woman answered.  

The words had come out of her mouth on their own. She widened her eyes at the same time as he realized her joke, however said with her most serious face. A somewhat heavy silence fell between them. The blond frowned, staring at the bartender.

“I was just trying to be nice, but let's say it's the shock.” He said in a very sharp voice, visibly annoyed.  

The white haired woman swallowed hard, searching for the right words. Finding a way to explain she hadn’t actually meant it? She hadn't even wanted to speak, the words had come out instinctively. Besides, why say that? To respond to him? But to what? To not remain frozen with a dumb smile? To annoy him? When pissing him off wasn’t on her list of preferences? To get his attention?

He emptied his glass in one go and got up to leave when she yelped an apology.

“Sorry.”  

He turned back to her with a face filled with misunderstanding.

“I ... I didn't mean that.” She mumbled with embarrassment and no correct explanations.  

He studied her face. Trying to get any intention in her words.

“So, what did you mean then?” He asked more curious than upset.  

The demonic mage took a step back, looking down. What was she going to say now?

“Nothing!” She replied quickly. “I don't know why I said that.”    

She thought she was going to die of embarrassment as he stared at her silently. He was going through each feature of her angelic face hoping to find any motive. Her big, almost hypnotic blue eyes, the curve of her slight nose, her pink lips… the whole thing shone with innocence so incredible that it became unreal. So different from the mischievousness he knew she was capable of. How would someone contain such different personalities in one?

He sat down again. Visibly intrigued by the woman’s behavior. Surprisingly, the exchange didn’t get noticed by the other members who still cheerfully insulted each other except for the girl who stared at the two mages in turn without daring to move. She wanted to offer her magic treatment again but the silent looks cooled her down. She mumbled a few more apologies without Mirajane taking the time to listen to her and went back to sit next to Lucy.

As for them, the lightning mage had looked down at his beer after yet another smirk and seemed to have lost interest in her woman, still looking at him without a word. Was he still upset? His tone had suggested it, but his casual attitude made him look unusually relaxed. She tried an approach to break the overwhelming discomfort:  

“How was your job? You came back early.” She asked.  

“Fine, I guess.” He uttered, closer to growling than speaking.  

The woman scowled. If her attempt at conciliation fell through, he could just ignore it or make a more complete answer. But was this really better? Stubborn and proud as he was, he would surely ignore it magnificently. She swallowed her discomfort and concentrated on her work as a barmaid.

After she had served over twenty orders, all accompanied with questions about her condition. Everyone at the hall had decided to worry about her. Her headache was even more worsening, but she tried not to let anything show. Wendy tried to insist she let her take a look but she declined, claiming that her only concern at the time was to serve everyone before the next day.

She was listening wisely to Cana who was telling her one of her latest story of unsuccessful date while cleaning dishes and relating the different events of the day in her mind: boredom, work, motivation, pain, reassurance, temerity, fear, pride, resignation. So many emotions.

“So, I didn't know what to tell him…”

It was still strange that he came to the guild this late after such a long absence.

“The guy was convinced I had already slept with at least fifty other guys...”  

And then why was he so sensitive on this subject? The battle of Fairy Tail had been over for years, well, according to the calendar. No one suspected him of being an asshole without empathy anymore.

“When I really slept with none, you know?”  

Did he think otherwise? Or, maybe it was more personal than that.

“I can't believe I'm still a virgin after all the dates I’ve been to…”

Did he think she thought he was not trustworthy?

“Whenever I go on a date, it's always the same...”  

Did he think she held a grudge against him?

“Most tell me I drink too much and so, I get nervous that they might think that…”

It was in the past, she trusted him completely, well, for most things…

“And I drink even more! Isn’t it horrible?”    

Like it was worth getting angry! He certainly enjoyed playing with her.

“And others think I’m basically a slut…”  

He allowed himself to make comments about her every day and she couldn't make one without upsetting him? Who did he think he was?  

“So, they just tell me I’m intimidating and I stop seeing them...”

You really had to be stupid to allow yourself to play with people and then get all pissed when they replied!

“Isn’t it nuts?”  

And she had been replying for years! Why was this idiot blaming her now?

“Mira, you’re listening?” The brunette asked.  

Mirajane looked up and stammered a weak confirmation that did not seem to convince her comrade. Suddenly, she saw the lightning mage display his predatory grin from upstairs. How annoying it could be! He looked at her, still leaning on the railing, then stood up to head to the room reserved for S class members. Which was weird since he had just returned from a two weeks job. Suddenly, he froze at before door and turned his gaze to the demonic mage, still gazing at him while working. He smirked once more and got inside.

It was too much! If he had a problem with her, he could at least come and tell her to her face! And not hide in a small, remote room by silently inviting her and turn the situation against her to accuse her of having gotten worked up about it!  

The card mage desperately repeated the white haired woman's name, who had stopped listening a long time ago.

“Two minutes.” She abruptly uttered while going towards the room.  

She went up the stairs discreetly under the uncomprehending eye of her friend and walked through the door without thinking about her real intentions.

The atmosphere was radically different. Silent, austere... Perhaps it would have been a little warmer if the dragon slayer hadn’t been waiting on one of the sofas, armed with his eternal grin and a freshly lit cigarette.

Or if he hadn't immediately jumped on her when she closed the door...

The pain became even more powerful when her white hair hit the wall again. He was now very close to her, one arm resting against the wall, like a fence to her prevent escape. The mage took a few seconds to regain her mind and blushed instantly, realizing their position. His chest, on which she had a fantasy a few weeks before, was facing her and unwanted thoughts quickly came to her mind. She looked up, ignoring the pain, to stare right into his eyes.

“You still haven’t gained in delicacy.” She articulated with difficulty.

“I don't really like being humiliated this way.” He replied coldly, still staring at her.  

“Humiliated?”  

He groaned in contentment. Their last exchange came to her mind.

“I didn't know you were so touchy, did your last achievements in Hargeon make you all grumpy?” She said with a provocative smile.  

He straightened slightly, reducing the distance between his body and the woman. She held a comment but blushed even more when she crossed his smirking glance while taking a puff of tobacco. The moment their eyes broke away made Mirajane regain her senses.

“So what, you smoke to think about what you’re going to say next?”

In response, he threw the smoke over her face and smiled as he watched her cough strongly. Oh, how she hated that smell! The idiot was really trying to piss her off! But she wouldn't let herself get mad.  

“The forest was that beautiful?" She went on between two coughs.  

“I saw better...” He finally answered.  

She thought she had won but froze immediately as she felt his fingers slide over her waist. Red rose violently to her cheeks while in a state of amazement. She felt them go against her hip then down and finally stopped just above her buttocks, without daring to go further on their journey. She didn’t move but managed to utter a word.

“Stop.”  

“Why?” He asked in a suddenly serious tone.  

“Because I’m telling you to.” She replied dryly, glaring at him but still not moving.  

His hand went back to her back without however leave her skin. The woman let out a sigh of relief and even found herself enjoying the feeling. He was still staring at her. She looked into his golden eyes and felt her gut boil. He slightly bent down to bring his face closer to hers. The mage closed her eyes, wanted to abandon herself but stiffened and abruptly whispered for herself:

“Not here.”  

He froze, remained a few instants above her, took a deep breath, and then disappeared through the door.  

The young woman was motionless, his breath still echoed against her skin and his hand seemed to have left an imprint on her flesh. Her organs were still burning, as were her cheeks. She took a few moments to connect her words to his departure and didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, she felt grateful and reassured that he had listened to her, but on the other hand, she would have liked him to get a little closer. Just a little.

She shook her head violently. He was better off... She had no desire to be surprised in such a position with him, especially by a member of the guild who turned out to be Erza. What did really bother her? That he would touch her like this or that Laxus would touch her inside the guild? She was starting to have an idea on the matter. Maybe it was better to avoid being alone again in order to keep thinking of him as a comrade.

Because it was still the case, wasn't it?