#but more than that i have had such an awfully long and difficult journey with myself about how being vulnerable abt my own feelings and love

[trashbaget]

how do people hate love?

love is such a happy warm and gentle feeling. it is quite probably the happiest emotion i can understand to possibly exist, and i do not understand how people can just detest it. 

and i don’t mean in a romance-repulsed aromantic sort of way, or even in the jokey “y’all are so sweet and lovey it’s disgusting” way. but a genuine, deep-seated hatred of love? 

how do people hear even a mere suggestion at the possibility, a damn joke about dating somebody in a hypothetical future, and say point blank, i don’t care i just don’t want to hear about it. 

just.. how can people hate love so much they insist on putting others down for talking about a feeling that makes them happy?

[blkgirl-writing]

What Happened at the Moon Lit Pond PART 2

Gale of waterdeep x F!Reader smut

Summary: You and your companions finally made it to baldurs gate, well, rivington. And it's finally time to relax and have a fun day out.

TW: drinking, sex, oral, PnV, F/M sex, thigh riding, brothel, overstimulation, a bit of anal, begging, everyone is consenting! I'd love to do a public sex chapter sometime, but not today.

word count 3.3k

{part one} {part 1.5}

-

It had been a long time since that night at the pond. You had long since left the grove and past the shadows, almost to baldurs gate, actually, in the small town of rivington. It was a long and difficult journey, yes, but with ample time and opportunities to talk about what had happened. But it never came up. Instead, there were many longing stares shot your way on gales part, small flirty conversations, and even more excuses to skip away from your companions to get any alone time with Gale, practically praying to the gods he’d say something first. But Gale wasn’t the type to come out of his comfort to express his feelings, let alone such complex ones. He had been rendered speechless.

Today was different. Maybe it was the long journey nearing it's end, but everyone was ready to let loose, even if it was just for a short while. Karlach and Wyll had split up to look for some armor, jaheria stayed back at camp to care for the small child who lost their mother, so it was a smaller company than you were used to. Just halsin, Shadowheart, Astarion, and of course, You and Gale. It was really a perfect day to mill about town, the sun beaming down in warm rays of light, not too hot and not too cold out, not even a hint of rain, so the dirt paths often muddy were dry, no ruining the clothes you had just washed.

Everyone was at their happiest, though of course, the underlying anxiety and pain for events soon to come were lingering, just pushed aside for the time being.

"Is the sun usually this blinding?" Astarion hissed, shielding his eyes with his hand "I don't remember everything being this bright"

"It simply feels brighter coming out of the shadows, you will get used to it" Halsin smiled down at Astarion, slipping behind him slightly to cast a shadow around him, guarding him from the sun. "We Haven't been inside in a while, why don't we find a shop to rest in for awhile, we have some money to spare"

"I could use a new hair ribbon, My old one looks a bit strange now that my hair has changed.." Shadowheart commented, lightly playing with her hair.

You went from shop to shop, it didn't matter, stopping by everything on the way, getting food, drinks, jewlery, and other small goods, the last place you had any energy for was a small looking shop with people outside raving about their service and pleasure being a customer there., without really looking at the sign or name.

Inside was dimly lit, a dark oak, cream, and red color scheme. Easily the most expensive place in all of the town.

"this is...awfully fancy, isn't it?" Gale murmurs, eyes flickering across the room.

"Certainly. I wonder what we could get to drink, I need a good wine..." Astarion immediately glided across the hall and to one of the counters, a huge smile graced his pale face. He stood there, talking for quite a bit, meanswhile, shadowheart wandered around, peaking her head into a room, she slipped a bit more into the room, then suddenly jolted out.

"Shadowheart? you look like you've seen...a lot"

"It's a brothel!" Astarion and Shadowheart said in unison, shadowheart nearly a whisper, Astarion nearly a yell. The woman behind the desk gave them both a nasty stare for the disruption of the ambiance.

"oh of course, sorry, beautiful" Astarion cooed at the woman. the immediate reaction to his flattery and dashing smile visible as she tucked her auburn hair away from her blushed face. He sauntered over to your merry group, that smile still plastered over his face. "I got us a discounted rate on a pair very talented drow."

"Excuse me, what now?"

"I got a discounted rate for an absolutely lovely time with drow twins for the same rate as one person but five. And we will have two rooms for comfort of space. I'm just that good, you all should be thanking me."

"Thank you, Astarion-" Halsin crossed his arms, a small smirk on his lips.

"I-thank you?" Shadowheart sputtered, still looking a bit frazzled by her earlier revelation.

you were still trying to process all of what just happened when even Gale spoke up.

"Well, looks like you'll have just...four people joining you, I'd prefer the company of a good book and an ale right now, i think."Gales eyes met yours for a split second, as you looked up at him. A very distinct look. He wanted you. It was hunger, lust, but restraint. He wasn't going to stop you from having fun with your company, but god did he want you to stay with him.

"I...um.." you looked up at Gale, fully taking him in this time. Gods...He was really the only thing you wanted. You wanted his soft hair between your fingers, your thighs wrapped around his waist. You wanted to feel his tongue shoved inside of you again.

"I think I'd like an ale or two as well."

"Oooookay...Well, since i already paid for two rooms, why don't you both buy a round for the spare room while we get busy." Astarion's eye roll was quite visible and very pointed, but that didn't matter, no one would actually remember anything that was said, as they'd be wrapped in bodies and sweat, including you.

So you ordered two bottles of ale and two of a beautiful red wine, they sat in the middle of a small round table. The room itself was stunning, the walls painted a deep purple, with a golden trim at the tops and bottoms. There was a bed centered in the middle of the room, with an abundance of fluffy pillows on top and a velvet sheet to top it off. It was by far the fanciest room you'd stayed in. Everything dripped of gold and pearls, there was even a damn chandelier. If this was a side room, you wondered what the main room must've looked like.

"This is...." You trailed off, still taking in the whole room.

"extraordinary?" Gale muttered, taking no time to sit down and pour out two glasses of wine. Something was obviously on his mind, as he swirled the red liquid around, his eyes were slightly distant, and his brows furrowed. It didn't surprise, you, though, there was a lot going on, and he had the chance to end his own life to possibly save the world, and yet here he sat, already on his second glass. There must be a lot on his mind, you thought.

Really, he just wanted the courage to make a big move, and a bit of liquid honesty couldn't hurt. While you drank, he tried not to stare, but it seemed to be getting harder and harder. He wanted so badly to reach out and devour you. He wanted to taste you again, grip your thighs with his hands, leave hickeys across your whole body, he wanted everyone to know how much he could pleasure you. He couldn't help but look at his drink, look at you, and the bed. he kept repeating 'just tell her' Tell you what? He wasn't sure what to even tell you?

Was he madly in love with you? Likely. Did he Lust for you? Always. Of course he did. Out of all the worldly and otherworldly beings, things, concepts, you were the most perfect. He Would year the night sky apart to see your smile. Commit crimes to stare into those eyes endlessly.

"They're certainly making some noise," The drinks were certainly kicking in, your voice was a bit shakey, but your head still fairly clear, clear enough to hear the moaning and grunts from the other room, even some....weird god kinks, you weren't sure and didn't care to be that snoopy.

Gale chuckled, nodding his head. "I would bet 5000 gold I could get you moaning louder than all of them, combined."

"Is that the wine talking?" You tried to blink away the disbelief and shock you clearly wore on your face, Gale was an upfront man, but this was on another level...

"Only to help say what's been on my mind." His deep brown eyes looked at you with incredible lust, more than you'd ever seen before, It was hot, searing, intense. "You have always been on my mind."

You got up from your chair, legs weak not from the wine, but from how this charming wizard looked at you like you were the entire world, right in front of him. "Is that so?" You wanted nothing more than for Gale to wrap his arms around your waist and take all of you til night passed and morning arose.

Your legs slotted through his perfectly, your knee nearly grazing his crotch. In one big gulp, you downed the rest of your drink, and leaned over Gale to set the glass down on the table, not very subtly getting closer to him, and even though your chest was practically in his face, he was still looking into your eyes.

"it would be such a waste if we didn't use such a beautiful bed. We're not often afforded those luxuries.." You took one more small step closer to him, reaching out to the hand free from drink, guiding it to your waist. "And we don't want to be wasteful..."

"Certainly not." Gale took one last sip of wine, licking the small drip that fell from his lips. He stood from his chair, his obvious hard on graising your hip. A small gasp left your lips, gods, you had forgotten how badly you'd wanted him, how big he felt...It was all returning to you. Your face flushed with heat as you remembered his tongue deep in your pussy, your lips wrapped around his cock.

Gale was emboldened by the wine, tipsy off of lust, his mind racing with all that he wanted to do to you, sweep you off your feet and into the weave. but that would have to wait, the here and now, right in front of him, you practically offering yourself to him yet again, he'd be a fool not to take it. "Come here, beautiful."

You let out a sigh, biting down on your lip as you sat down on his thigh. He wrapped his hands around your hips, squeezing slightly, almost reassuringly. He guided your hips back and fourth, while pressing you down further onto his thigh. your dress rode up to your waist, only your thin underwear creating all the friction you ever needed between your pussy and his thigh, getting ungodly close his his bulge yet never quite close enough.

His pace was slow and hard, Still clutching onto you like you absolutely needed it, which, was true, as the longer he rocked you the more wobbily your legs felt. You breath started to get heavier and heavier. Your head fell to his shoulders, the pleasure wracking through your whole body.

"No no, beautiful, look at me when you cum" Gale's hand inched its way to the back of your neck, pulling your head off his shoulder and holding you steady as you looked into his eyes,

It was all so much, his needy eyes begging for you to cum, your throbbing pussy, the small wet stain now on his pants from how gods damn much he turned you on, it was hard to keep his stare but you did, as you moaned his name, gasping as pleasure kept pulsing through your body. "fuck..." you chocked out. He let go of your neck but kept his hand on your shoulder, still keeping a firm grasp on your hip as it was clear you weren't exactly stable.

"I...That was..." You nearly whispered, still shuddering from the orgasm. You were so flustered, something that wasn't too easy for you, yet, he made you. His intensity with a smile had you dizzy. "Do you want me to return the favor?"

He raised a hand back to your jaw, tilting your head to look at him fully, to stare into his eyes.

"Let me make love to you-" Gale cooed, soothing you with his charm. "Sit back and let me give you everything."

"Yes, please-" you practically begged. Gale used his fingers to tilt your head slightly, leaving room for him to trail kisses and love bites down your neck, sucking on your skin, leaving you with shivers down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your hands nearly shooting up to grasp his soft hair, pulling him even closer.

"you're so beautiful-" He muttered between hickeys, breath getting heavier as you pressed your hips against him, feeling how much he wanted you, straining

You pulled away slightly, grasping his hand and struggling a bit to get up, turning to lead him to the bed. Although your eyes were set in front of you, you felt his gaze scan your body, how your hips swayed as you walked, he wanted to take all the time in the world to explore your body, learn it more than anything he'd ever read.

"just lay down, beautiful." He pressed his hand to your chest, pushing slightly, letting you fully relax into the bed, his body hovering over yours, his steady and strong arm next to your head, the other making quick work of unbuttoning your dress.

"Take those off for me," he looked down at your panties, slipping a finger at the band of your underwear and pulling it back, snapping it against your skin. It took a moment to register, there was so much distracting you, but you somehow managed. Completely bare and laid out, displayed like a work of art for him to admire. Gale took a moment, sitting up on his knees, to take you all in. His fingers traced along your stomach, lowering slowly, with such a light touch you could barely tell if it was him or a chill.

It shouldn't have been surprising but when he slipped his middle finger inside, you gasped, letting a moan escape your lips as his finger curled in and out of you, working in a slow and consistent pace. His index finger grazed your clit every time he pumped in and out, lightly, still taking you down from the high of riding his thigh, him knowing you'd still be sensitive, to not overstimulate.

"Come here" You pulled him in by his hair, now slightly tosseled and looking frankly unfair. "kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice, quickly pressing his own lips to yours. He tasted of the sweet red wine, with hints of caramel and clove. He was delicious , addicting. You licked his bottom lip, opening his mouth to allow you deeper into his mouth. While you explored his mouth, he slipped another finger deep inside you, pushing in further than he had been doing before, quickening his pace.

His lips left your own, slightly panting, a bit out of breath. He then trailed down your neck to your breast, looking back up at you, asking permission to suck on your skin. You nodded desperately, gods you needed anything he would give you. His lips attacked to your nipple, sucking and licking, bobbing his head with every pull, it was all building up.

"I'm gonna cum, gods, Gale please I'm close-" You begged, yet he pulled back quickly, you let out a disappointed groan, why would he stop now? It didn't take long to get your answer, he wanted your cum on his mouth. He moved fast to move his mouth to your pussy, not relenting in his speed with his fingers and now, tongue. It didn't take long for the wave of bliss to wash over you, uncontrollable sounds coming out while he rode our your orgasm with one less finger and slowing down with his lips. It wasn't until your hips stopped shaking that he drew out his fingers, moving them to his mouth where he sucked them dry, letting out a small moan when they were clean. "divine.."

His clothes were stripped off, yours now completely tossed aside, the cool air hitting you both, but neither of you really noticed. You were focused on his hard cock pressed against your pussy, grinding againt your lips, getting slick with his spit and your cum. It would be so easy just to slide it in, but he drew it out, teasing you til you begged, pleaded, please, you needed it, you wanted him so desperately. Yet still somehow a fraction of his need for you the past weeks.

Gales restraint was shocking, even to himself, but the sight of you underneath him, begging for his cock, glowing from the orgasm he brought you, was enough for a lifetime, though he hoped there'd be many more lifetimes of this.

One more whimper is all that it took for him to shove himself deep inside you, all the way to the hilt. You felt him pressing against your cervix, a small but sharp pain from the sudden sensation , a good pain, that meant you were taking it all, and so well for him too. He had waited too long for this to stop, he kept pumping inside you, at an unrelenting pace, fast and hard. He switched between sucking on your neck, your breast, and biting your lip, keeping eye contact whenever he could. He wanted to see how much you wanted him, and he wanted you to know how much lust he had in his soul, just for you.

Gale held your neck with his hand, grasping lightly, as he came for the first time, shoving his cock even deeper into your pussy as he slowed his pace down, nearly whimpering in your ear as his head fell to your shoulders, biting down on your skin to keep from some more sounds he found embarrassing, but was so very sexy. You expected him to lay down and rest, after that, but he kept going.

"Flip over for me." He asked, giving your earlobe a small nibble as he spoke. You couldn't move fast enough, laying down on your stomach as he held down your waist, fingernails digging into your skin, leaving small crescent dents. You shoved your ass down on him with every thrust, wave after wave of orgasms wracking through your body, it felt endless, overwhelming. When it all felt like enough he kept going, adding more, rubbing your clit as your ass bounced on his cock, his thumb slipping in and out of your ass, him completely exiting you and only coming back in when you came from his words alone, sweet talking you into more orgasms. Or stopping completely to finish you off with his mouth again, you'd squirted in his mouth more than once, and he came once just from that. Maybe the stopping and starting was also so he himself could keep going as much as he could muster, but that never crossed your mind.

"You take it so well-" and "I want to see you need me" and "You're just too beautiful when you cum, I can't help but follow."

You went until your bodies gave out. Too sweaty, too raw to take anymore.

Gale fell beside you, out of breath, tan skin glistened with sweat and cum, his cock still leaking a bit, though even he was shocked there was anything left in him. You laid there for minutes, maybe longer, it didn't matter. It didn't click that the room next to you had fallen silent until you'd finally caught your breath. Actually...you remember the screams and moans ending a while ago. you notice Gales eyes had also turned to the shared wall, probably coming to the same conclusion as you.

"Do you think they heard us?" You asked, a small smile forming.

"Most definitely."

_

A/N: Well that was a lot huh? This took probably 20 hours straight of writing if not more, so please tell me if you liked it! It would mean a lot to me. Requests are always open but slow, as i'm not a fast writer haha. Thanks for following along! My gale fics have done better than I ever expected, I've gotten about 1k new followers from them I believe, so thank you all!

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[sucker-for-sniffles]

Did someone order a loyal knight with a bad cold and his prince who loves him dearly trying to get him to rest for once in his life? Here’s 4k words of that, please enjoy these guys who barged into my head and won’t leave

—

As if negotiations in Halfford hadn’t gone poorly enough, Prince Robin thought, bouncing about uncomfortably in the back of his carriage, Sir Harper had started to catch cold a couple days into the journey home. Off of the Duke’s snot-nosed son, Robin had no doubt. The brat practically hung off Harper’s shirt all week, as if he were a fawning child rather than a man hardly any younger than Harper.

Harper made his ailment utterly unobtrusive, as always, his service unfailing. Any other company might not have realized he was ill at all. But Robin knew him too well to miss the edge of fatigue to his practiced smile, the soft sighs when he didn’t realize Robin was listening, the sneezes muffled into his cape just too often to pass off as coincidence.

And Robin knew him too well to say anything. Harper blamed himself for the disaster this trip had become, even if he didn’t want Robin to see as much. As if he ought to have prevented the storm that stalled them four days on the way to Halfford, or Duke Edward’s foul mood at the delay. With Harper on edge as he was, Robin didn’t have the words to ask after him without Harper taking it as a critique. He blamed his friend’s father for that. The old bastard was just the sort to wield “are you quite well?” as a blunt weapon.

Robin was in far too sour a mood for tact. On another day, he would walk beside the carriage and talk with Harper, but given the circumstances, he was better off sulking with the luggage. Even if he wound up with a bruise or two, he didn’t have to try so hard to bite his tongue with the creaks and clangs of the cart on the uneven road making conversation difficult already.

“It’s getting dark,” Harper called back. There was a fresh rasp to his voice accompanying the mounting congestion that marred his m’s and n’s. The poor man ought not to shout so. “If we press, we may reach an inn not long after sundown, but…”

“Let’s camp here.” Robin shifted carefully, extracting himself from the corner of the cart he’d wedged himself into. He didn’t want Harper doing any pressing.

“Very well, my lord.” A note of relief in Harper’s voice, well-masked but perceptible. The cart rumbled to a stop and creaked loudly as Harper stepped down from the driver’s seat.

Robin followed suit and crawled from the back of the cart, stretching out stiff and aching limbs. He really did prefer to walk. He circled around, intending to offer help, but paused when he saw Harper seize a fistful of his cape and bring it close to his face. His shoulders rose with his breath, once, twice—

Harper ducked into a rough, throaty sneeze, muffled harshly by the thick wool of his cape.

“Bless you.” Even that much, Robin worried would be unwelcome.

“Ah—tha’k you.” Harper dragged his cape roughly under his nose and sniffed with a determined finality. He smiled. “I am glad to see you in one piece after being tossed about like a sack of flour. What draws you to ride in the cart on roads like this, I can’t understand.” He set to unyoking the horses, leaving Robin to trail uselessly behind him.

“It isn’t so bad without armor clanging about you.” Robin rubbed his arms.

“Hah.” Harper lifted the yoke from the horses’ shoulders, a quick flash of pain crossing his face when the weight settled in his right arm. Was his shoulder bothering him, too? It was awfully cold this far north. “There’s no need to lie to me, my lord. I only wish I could give you privacy with a little more comfort.”

Robin huffed a laugh. “Alas, you are no magician. I am merely grateful my father didn’t insist on sending an entourage after us.” And he was, truly, whatever Harper might have thought. It isn’t as if thirty men could have fought off a storm that Harper couldn’t.

“Your father’s men don’t know how to leave you well enough alone,” Harper agreed, but Robin didn’t miss the doubt that flickered across his face. He set down the yoke and glanced at Robin. “Are you warm enough? The cold comes on quickly out here.”

Robin dropped his hands from his arms. “Perhaps not.” The wind was beginning to creep through the linen of his shirt without the canvas walls of the cart to block it.

“Allow me to fetch your cloak.” Harper strode past before Robin could insist on fetching his cloak himself. It was likely best to let him help, anyhow. If small, unneeded favors were what he needed to prove himself, there was no reason to protest.

Harper returned promptly with Robin’s favorite travel cloak over one arm—a thick red one, almost long enough to drag on the ground, made when Robin was young enough that there was hope he’d grow taller. “I hope you are well, my lord,” he said, fastening the cloak over Robin’s shoulders.

It took Robin a moment to process the question. “I—am. For the most part.”

Harper smiled, honest despite the tired weight to it. “I’m glad. It can be hard to tell, when you draw away from me, when I should start to worry. I hope you will never feel lonely when I am with you.”

And he squeezed Robin’s shoulder and returned to the back of the cart like he hadn’t just stung Robin senseless. He’d made Harper worry for him all this time. Since they first arrived in Halfford, no doubt, and Robin had spent every evening too exhausted by the Duke’s temper to do more than sulk in his guest room and tell Harper to explore the city without him. Harper understood, as Harper always understood, but it was hardly any wonder he’d gotten tense. Robin could be a dense little brat sometimes, he thought bitterly.

A wrenching, tightly muffled sneeze pulled Robin back to himself. He moved around to the back of the cart, where Harper had paused in tying down the rear flap to press his fingers to his temples, exhaustion written plainly on his face. The red cast of his nose was no longer faint, and the poor thing was starting to swell under Harper’s rough treatment.

“Bless you,” Robin said, anxiety creeping foolishly up his neck. Talking to Harper ought to be the easiest thing in the world. Damn this trip, damn Duke Edward, and damn Robin’s own idiocy.

The exhaustion all but vanished from Harper’s expression as he looked up and gave a quick thanks, carrying on with the canvas.

Robin twisted the edge of his cloak between his fingers and dared to ask, “Sir Harper, are you well?”

Harper paused his work for just a moment, too briefly to be noticed by anyone paying the slightest bit less attention than Robin. “I may have caught a chill back in Halfford,” he admitted, his tone carefully flat. “Do not concern yourself, my lord.”

“I shall concern myself if I like,” Robin said before he could think better of it.

Harper pulled a rope taught with a fair bit more force than seemed necessary and barked a laugh. “Of course, my lord.” He sniffed, sharp and wet, and tied off the rope, securing the canvas flap over the open back of the cart. He climbed inside without another word and started shifting things around, laying out their bedrolls and moving fallen luggage aside.

Robin sighed and leaned against the cart, pulling his cloak tight around himself. He’d misstepped already. A cold. What an absurdly unremarkable, temporary affliction to regret. As if anybody could think less of Harper for such a thing. For falling ill, for bowing to the weather. Robin could think of a few sharp words for Harper’s father, though he doubted they would do any good.

He watched the darkening sky as Harper bustled around in the cart. Some clouds were forming to the east—might it rain? The roads would be hell tomorrow if it did. Perhaps they ought to have pushed on to the inn after all.

“Does it look like rain to you?” Robin asked as Harper emerged from the carriage. He’d stripped his cape, tabard, and heavy mail, leaving him in trousers and a tunic with his sword tied around his waist.

Harper glanced up to the east, briefly pressing a gloved knuckle under his nose. “Ah—yes, most likely.” He smiled. “Worry not, my lord. You will stay quite dry in the cart.”

Robin bit his lip. “Yes, but the roads will—I will stay dry?”

“We will.” Harper sniffled and laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Worry not. I am hardly infirm. I shall handle the roads tomorrow, whatever condition they may be in.”

“Of course you shall.” Robin sighed, studying Harper’s face, the faint lines of exhaustion his best efforts can’t erase. “I do not doubt your capability, but…it has been a long journey.”

“It has.” Harper squeezed Robin’s shoulder briefly and let go, looking away. Was Robin staring? “Rest in the cart. I will take care of camp and fetch you when there is dinner.”

That isn’t what Robin meant at all, but already Harper was striding away towards the horses. Robin followed him, almost jogging to keep up with his long, quick steps. “No. I will accompany you.”

“No need.” Harper didn’t slow, nor turn to Robin. “You are exhausted. Rest for tomorrow.” There was a clipped insistence to his tone so uncharacteristic that Robin was almost hurt until Harper brought both hands to his face and smothered a sneeze that seemed to tear through him and take a piece with it, leaving him staggered slightly with a few short, harshly constrained coughs.

“Bless you, Sir.” Robin took the opportunity to overtake Harper and reach the horses first. Of course—poor Harper hadn’t had a moment’s privacy since they’d left Halfford. If Robin couldn’t convince him to let his guard down before him, he could at least give him a few moments alone. “I assure you, I am quite capable of watering the horses myself. We shall both to bed sooner if I help.” He took both horses’ leads without waiting for a response and clicked at them to follow.

“…very well, my lord.” If Harper was trying to disguise the relief in his voice, he didn’t manage it very well. He sniffed thickly and dropped his hands from his face. “The river is a short way south of here.” He pointed, but Robin could hear the rushing water already.

Robin nodded. “I shall return soon.”

And he led the horses off. This was absurd. Why should the two of them play these games even when alone? Harper’s father was not here to scold him, nor anybody who might report to him or the King. Why should decorum prevent Robin from speaking frankly with his dearest friend? He ought to order Harper to rest as much as he was able.

The river was further than Robin anticipated, and by the time he returned night had all but fallen, the air damp and bitterly cold, and the rain clouds in the east were unmistakably nearer. At least he was able to spare Harper the trek—the fool would have left without his cloak—but he was relieved nonetheless to see a fire roaring already by the time he returned, a steaming pot hung over it. He secured the horses and joined Harper beside it on a fallen log, noting with pleasure that Harper had remembered himself and donned a cloak.

“Back at last, my lord?” Harper smiled at Robin as he sat down, a touch of mischief in his expression. “I had forgotten how much longer a walk can be on shorter legs.”

Robin shoved his shoulder, gasping in mock offense. “You know perfectly well how quickly I walk.”

“How slowly.” Harper’s grin flashed into a grimace and he turned away from Robin, lifting a fistful of his cloak to his face. His breath wavered perilously for a moment, and he crumpled, smothering a heavy sneeze into the fabric.

“Bless you.” He sounded worse, Robin thought.

Harper coughed roughly before recovering his breath. “Hah. Tha’k you.” An attempt at sniffling audibly caught in stuffed-shut sinuses and Harper cleared his throat, such an unmistakeably unwell sound that Robin wanted to drag him to the cart to sleep and damn his feelings on the matter.

“What do you think of breaking into that mead the Duke refused?” he said instead. “My father won’t expect it back, and it seems a fine night to warm ourselves up.” And perhaps a bit of drink would help ease Harper’s nerves.

“If you’d like.” Harper tipped the pot over the fire towards him with a ladle, his other hand keeping the hem of his cloak pressed under his nose. “Though I hope you don’t need drink to find my company tolerable.”

Robin laughed. “Simply unbearable, being alone with the likes of you. It’s near enough to make me miss Duke Edward’s hospitality.” He stood and brushed dirt from the back of his cloak. “I simply can’t face a sober evening with company who prefers me to a horse’s ass.”

That earned a huff of laughter from Harper. “I’ve been looking at a horse’s ass all day. You’re a far better sight.”

“He doesn’t mean it, Dapple,” Robin called to the horse in question, who flicked an ear in utter disinterest. He patted her side on his way back to the cart.

It was dark inside the cart with the rear flap blocking out the firelight, but it was easy enough to find the mead, bundled up in a spare cloth and tied to the side of the cart to ensure it didn’t bounce around and break. There ought to be some handkerchiefs about, too. Robin recalled seeing a couple at the bottom of his bag, so he took a moment to dig them out.

When he returned to the campfire, Harper had taken the pot off the fire and was doling out stew to travel bowls. Robin offered a handkerchief without a word.

Harper took it with a nod of thanks and swiped quickly under his nose, though by the sound of things that wasn’t nearly enough.

The stew was fine enough, good for being scrounged together from diminishing fresh supplies. Harper called it a last proper meal before returning to dried meat and stale crackers. The mead was better. Robin’s father wasn’t one to spare expenses when it came to obsequious gifts.

“The one gift the Duke’s given us,” Robin said after the two were halfway through the bottle.

Harper snorted. “His generosity shall not go unremembered.” He took a swig from the bottle, then passed it urgently back to Robin. “Pardon—” His breath caught and he twisted away from Robin, though the sneeze seemed to toy with him, keeping his breath hitching uncertainly for several seconds before tearing out of him with a vocal desperation that almost startled Robin.

“Bless you.”

“Ngh.” Belatedly, Harper lifted the handkerchief to his face and blew his nose hard, though, by the sound of it, not to much effect. “Blast this cold.”

He must have been feeling calmer if he was complaining, Robin noted with pleasure. Though whether that was thanks to the mead or to dinner and company, he couldn’t guess. “Poor thing,” he said as lightly as he could manage, rubbing Harper’s shoulder.

Harper huffed, with laughter or irritation. “You needn’t tease me, my lord.”

“I’m not!” With feigned offense, Robin set the bottle on the ground to fold his arms. Harper picked it idly back up. “Can’t a man express his sympathies for a friend?”

“Of course, my lord.” Harper took another swig. “But as I’ve said, you need not worry.”

“Need not worry, need not worry!” However much the mead was touching Harper, Robin was feeling a touch bolder. “Perhaps I want to worry, Har. You aren’t acting like yourself.”

Harper grinned, visibly biting back a laugh. “You’re acting plenty like yourself.” Robin squinted. “Fussy and overprotective.”

Robin scoffed, almost offended. “Overprotective! Says Sir ‘rest in the cart while I do the work of thirty men!’”

“Thirty men!” Harper laughed properly at that until his breath caught in his throat and pulled him double in a coughing fit. “Thirty, Robin, really?” he croaked as soon as his breath allowed.

“My father would send thirty.”

Harper drank again, calming the cough. “Your father really is overprotective.”

Robin could hardly argue with that. He shifted closer and leaned into Harper’s side. “Honestly, what’s the matter?”

“You got me drunk so I’d admit I don’t feel well,” Harper said, vaguely impressed. “Conniving bastard.” But he leaned back into Robin’s touch.

“Answer me, Harper.” Robin let a smidge of princely authority into his tone. “You aren’t usually so…”

He searched for the word, but Harper gave a stuffy, defeated little sigh and sank deeper into Robin’s side. “Your father will have my head when we reach home.”

Robin scoffed. “Like hell.”

“He will.” Harper sniffed and pressed the handkerchief beneath his nose with some force. “You’ve been miserable on this trip—don’t lie to me; you have been—and it is my job t-to—oh, hell—” He leaned away from Robin and crushed a sneeze into his handkerchief, sharp and rough and furious.

“Bless you. I don’t give a damn about your job.” Maybe Robin oughtn’t to have drank. It made it awfully difficult to shut his mouth. “I only care that my friend is ill and you won’t let him rest.”

“I give a damn.” Harper didn’t snap, but the edge to his tone suggested he might have were Robin anybody else. “I haven’t got the luxury of only being your friend.” But he leaned back into Robin’s shoulder nonetheless.

Robin bit down the first words on his tongue, Your father said something to you. Dragging up that old argument could hardly do good. “I’d be happy to see you rest,” he said instead.

“Hah.” Harper swiped beneath his nose. “Less so to see the cart uncovered, dinner unmade, fire unlit…”

“I could have done any of that myself,” Robin insisted.

“And then what use would I be?” Harper’s tone might have sounded playful to someone else, but Robin heard the subtle frailty in the words.

A drop of rain splashed on Robin’s cheek. He put up a hand to feel for more.

“Right.” Harper sat up and pulled Robin’s hood over his head, smiling. As if Robin is the one needed reassuring. “Go stay dry in the cart. I will join you within a half-hour.”

Robin could have argued. A better friend might have. But Harper was rarely so insistent unless he was right, even if Robin couldn’t see it. “I’ll come looking if you’re late,” he said instead.

Harper laughed. “Nonsense, my lord. We don’t need you catching cold, too.” He stood and offered Robin a hand up.

Robin took it. “Then be with me in a half-hour.” The longer he ran his mouth, the longer Harper would be out in the rain, so he nodded goodbye and headed for the cart.

Inside the cart, he lit his fire-light and left it near the entrance, providing paltry light for Robin but, he hoped, a signal for Harper in case the rain put out the campfire. It wasn’t as if he needed to see much to strip off his cloak and boots and crawl under the blankets Harper had laid out.

The rain picked up quickly, and wind along with it. Robin pulled a pillow over his head, trying to block out the roar of the rain hitting canvas and with it the thought of poor Harper caught outside in this misery.

He had no way to tell the time, but he trusted despite his threat that it really had been less than a half-hour when Harper returned. He heard splashing, heavy footsteps drawing closer, then a creak of the cart as Harper started to step up. A pause, then a wet, wrenching sneeze, half drowned out by the rain hitting canvas but for once not muffled. And then another, ripe with exhausted frustration. Harper cursed, gave his nose a quick, rough blow, and climbed into the cart.

“Bless you.” Robin took the pillow off his head and rolled onto his back. “It sounds miserable out there.” As close to you sound miserable as Harper was likely to accept.

“Hah. S’pose so.” Harper turned out the fire-light and tossed it back to Robin, who fumbled it in the unexpected dark. “Were you frightened without me?”

Robin grumbled. “Oh, terribly. I’m a grown man; I’m not afraid of the rain any longer.”

Harper laughed, still shuffling around the cart to get out of his boots and cloak. “And here I thought you needed me.”

Robin lifted up the blankets to his right—prematurely, he realized when the unexpectedly cold air made him shiver. “All right, then. Get under here and protect me from the wind, Sir Necessary.”

To Robin’s relief, that drew more laughter from Harper, until it broke into a couple coughs. “Of course, my lord,” he said, a bit raspy, and slid under the blankets beside Robin.

He was keeping weight off his right arm, Robin noticed. So his shoulder was acting up. Robin waited for him to settle, then moved himself onto Harper’s good shoulder, pinning him down, and tucked the blanket gently over the other before Harper could protest.

Harper laughed softly and looped his arm around Robin’s waist. “You’re fretting.”

“Will you deny me that?”

“I will deny you nothing, my lord,” Harper said with that note of amusement that always left Robin torn between affection and indignation.

He settled on responding with a haughty sniff and pulling the pillow under Harper’s head. “Then tell me what you would have of me.”

Harper’s answer was as quick as predictable. “Nothing, my lord.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Robin settled his head on Harper’s chest and hooked a leg over Harper’s, drawing him close to share their warmth. Harper’s clothes were damp, and he shivered slightly beneath them. All the more reason to cling to him. “I know you hate to be alone when you’re unwell, but you’re hearing anything more than ‘bless you’ as a slight against your honor. Tell me how to care for you.”

Harper sniffed. “It is not your responsibility to—”

“Why did we come out here alone just to act like your father is listening?” Robin bit his tongue, regretting the words as soon as they passed his lips.

He might not have heard Harper’s breath catch without his ear pressed to his chest, but the sound made him want to shrivel up where he lay. “Oh, hell, Har, I—”

Harper twisted his head away from Robin into a vicious, half-stifled sneeze.

Oh. “Bless you. I’m sorry.”

Harper sniffed hard and brought up his right hand to scrub beneath his nose. “Tha’k you.” He sucked his teeth, absently rubbing a thumb on Robin’s back. When he spoke, it was hardly more than a hoarse whisper, as if asking quietly were less offensive: “Will you ride beside me tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Robin could feel the tension leave Harper. “I ought to have done so from the beginning.”

“You needed space.”

“And you needed company.” Robin shifted, pulling Harper in tighter. He’d stopped shivering. “I wish you’d asked for it sooner.” Harper started to speak, but Robin added, “I know you think you can’t, but I wish you would.”

Harper chuckled softly. “Truly, Robin, you worry too much.”

“Only as you refuse to take proper care of yourself,” Robin protested. “Get some sleep, now.”

“At your pleasure, my lord,” Harper teased, but he relaxed beneath Robin and, soon enough, drifted off to sleep.

[ghoultyrant]

Beachballs: a jellyfish story

Once upon a time, I spent a month at a beach on the Texas coast in the 'off-season' of that beach. My initial response to being there was to be kind of baffled as to why it was the 'off-season': it was sunny, a nice temperature, and all-around nice!

A week in, storms arrived. Brutal, oppressive storms, with torrential rain and high winds. And they kept going continuously for days, where a 'nice' day was one where the looming clouds weren't raining right this second and the wind was only moderately strong. (But the sky was still blotted out by the clouds all day long, and it still did rain on and off)

So that pretty straightforwardly explained why the of-season was, in fact, the off-season.

More interesting than all that was that one night the storms were particularly intense and I woke up in the morning to lots of jellyfish having been washed ashore by the waves: I'd previously read about jellyfish being beached, but I'd never seen it personally, and to my surprise these jellyfish largely didn't resemble what books and TV had depicted of jellyfish lying flat on the ground, dehydrated and clearly dead. There were a few like that, but most of them were actually curled up into a ball shape, mouth firmly shut, seawater trapped inside their skin. The contrast was pretty stark, because the live ones glowed a bit, while the dead ones had their internal lights inactive.

(I'd provide a picture, but this was over a decade ago, and I couldn't have taken one at the time anyway. I really wanted to, but didn't have the ability at the time)

My first thought was to figure maybe the jellyfish had gotten lucky; I already knew jellyfish don't have a brain per se, and everything I'd ever seen talk about jellyfish presented them as very passive... but the ratios made me doubtful. If it was luck, why did the living beachball jellyfish outnumber the flat dead jellyfish something like 10 to 1? That's awfully consistent for 'luck'.

After a couple hours of seeing the jellyfish continue to survive on the beach, I got curious; I had what I'm going to call a bucket (It wasn't a bucket, but explaining what it was would be a lengthy distraction), and I decided to scoop up some of these jellyfish and try to dump them back in the ocean, see if I could rescue them. (Partially because jellyfish are one of those animals nobody reacts to with It's Cute Or Something So I Feel Bad For It When It Suffers: if I didn't save these jellyfish, there was basically no chance somebody else would do it)

I very stupidly started by just walking out until the water was waist-deep and dumped them out right next to me; I didn't get stung, but I did immediately decide to not repeat that.

Even so, the result was interesting: the jellyfish immediately opened up and began pumping, orienting away from the beach, out to the open ocean. This was very striking: I'd read about jellyfish pumping to adjust their depth, but my science books and shows had never suggested a jellyfish might be capable of deliberate horizontal movement. And the fact that I dumped out 6 jellyfish at once and they all immediately oriented correctly made it difficult to believe they were picking a direction at random: they were picking the correct direction somehow.

This was promising enough -and I had nothing better to do anyway- that I took on the longer journey of taking jellyfish out to a nearby rock jetty to dump them out: once again, the jellyfish stayed curled up in a ball while they were in my bucket (Even the ones that were completely submerged by the water that was getting into the bucket), but immediately after they hit the seawater they opened up and began frantically pumping away, this time from the jetty. I did this jetty trip three times in total, and all 18~ of those jellyfish reliably made the correct decision in those conditions.

(By the third jetty trip, I was too tired to keep going, even though I kind of wanted to keep at it. By the time I had the energy plus time available, the remaining beached jellyfish had all gone flat and dark, dead. Alas)

So that was all fascinating and raised a lot of questions about jellyfish intelligence, senses, etc, not to mention made me heavily doubt the default Passive Filter Feeder characterization all my science materials had told me.

(Incidentally, I tried digging into if modern science documented this behavior in the over-a-decade since my original experience, but as far as I can tell, no: as of July 15, 2024, this appears to still be an undocumented behavior. All I can find is the same ol' same ol' stuff about helpless filter feeders washing helplessly up on beaches and dying with no attempt to stave off their oncoming deaths.)

[hyenahunt]

Saga: Rivals - 17

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Hiyori, Jun, Hokuto, Chiaki, Tori

Proofreading: 310mc (JP) & hyenahunt (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Jun: Ohii-san can’t stand the cold, see, so now that it's winter he’s gotten into the habit of attaching himself to anyone he sees~

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Soundproof Lesson Room

Hiyori: Hello, hello ☆ A good day to you all! Whyever are fine young men like you discussing such dark topics in broad daylight? A little cult get-together, perhaps?

If that's the case, then I have no business here, and shall turn right on my heel to take my leave! What terrible weather…!

Jun: Good afternoon… Sorry the first thing you had to hear was our resident idiot’s rude comments.

Hokuto: Eve! No, this time you’re Lilith, huh… Always so noisy, aren’t you?

Fufu. Was it SS that we last saw each other? I’m glad you guys seem well.

Hiyori: Oh, if it isn't Hokuto-kun! Fufufu~ It does seem awfully unusual to see you without the rest of Trickstar, doesn’t it? May I hug you?

Hokuto: Why. Stop that — Don’t touch me! Give me a hand, Sazanami.

Jun: Ugh~ I'm seriously sorry 'bout this… Ohii-san can’t stand the cold, see, so now that it's winter he’s gotten into the habit of attaching himself to anyone he sees~

Hokuto: So that's what's going on… I think I understand. We hug each other a lot in my unit, too.

But just so you know, it seems I have a lower body temperature than the norm. Akehoshi uses me as a cooler during summer, even.

Hiyori: Mm? True, you certainly are rather chilly… Your temperature setting needs some turning up!

Cold, cold, how terribly cold it is! During the long journey from the station to this academy, I found myself thinking over and over that I wouldn't quite make it!

Chiaki: Tomoe! Ooh, it’s you, Tomoe! It’s been so long!

I’m the opposite of Hidaka; I have a high body temperature and I’ve been getting good reviews as a heater! If you’re so cold, you’re welcome to hug me! ☆

Hiyori: …? And who are you again, exactly? Why are you talking to me so casually as if we know each other?

Chiaki: You’re doing that to me too!? What, are there only fiends in the old fine!? Have you forgotten, Tomoe! We were in the same class as first years!

Hiyori: Ahaha. Now, now, I only jest. You’re Ryuseitai’s Chiaki-kun, correct?

The air about you has changed quite a bit, you know. A little more fashionable than before, perhaps? Did you stop wearing glasses?

Hokuto: Ah, that's right… Tomoe-senpai used to attend Yumenosaki Academy, so of course he and Morisawa-senpai know each other.

Hiyori: Ahaha, you always say everything out loud, down to things that don’t need to be said! Such a serious boy, Hokuto-kun!

Conversations, you see, should be played by the ear~ There’s no need to explain every little thing, yes?

Tori: ……

Hiyori: Oh? You’re Himemiya’s… Tori-kun, yes? Thank you for the other day ♪

Tori: Ah, yes. Thank you for allowing me the chance to speak with you that day, and I was also very happy that we could sing together, too.

Chiaki: What's that? You sang together? Did you and Tomoe hold a live show as fine?

Tori: Oh no, Hiyori-sama has just been showing up at social parties more often lately, for some reason… We ended up performing together after last time, and Prez joined us, too.

Hiyori: Aha, it was such a delightful time! Seeing the look of dismay on Eichi-kun’s face was the cherry on top!

I'd love to sing together some time again~ Having both the new and old fine performing on the same stage might be fun ♪

Tori: Yes… I've even dreamed of seeing a stage like that before. I hope we'll get the chance to do it someday.

Oh, but you and your unit are under CosPro, Hiyori-sama. Since that makes you our enemies, it might be a little difficult.

Hiyori: Is that so? We'll soon be doing away with labels such as friends and enemies soon, though, won't we?

Tori: …?

Hiyori: Oh dear, perhaps I let a little too much slip. Hidaka-sensei's bound to have a word with me… Speaking of which, where are our teachers? Absent, are they? Hooray, while the cat's away, let us mice all play ☆

Jun: Haha. Well, Aoba-senpai just went to get them, so they’re gonna show up anytime now~

Seems like they’re arranging press coverage and working out stuff with the bigshots, but we know Hidaka-sensei finishes that kinda work in minutes.

Hokuto: ……

Tori: Ahaha. Hidaka-senpai, you keep tensing up at every mention of “Hidaka-sensei,” huh?

Aren’t you being kinda too self-conscious~? It makes sense if you're feeling stressed about your upcoming face-off with your dad, though.

Hokuto: No… It's just that we’re both Hidakas, so I just keep thinking that I'm the one getting called.

Jun: Ah~ I totally get it. Sagami Jin and I have similar names, too, y’see.

So sometimes someone'll be saying my name, but for half a second I'll get pissed off wondering who the hell's talking about that bastard…. You feel me~?

Tori: …? What d'you mean by that? Umm, Sazanami-senpai, was it? Do you have some kinda relation with Sagami-sensei?

Jun: Oh, I believe this is the first time we've met, huh?

It's a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sazanami Jun, from Lilith. You’re my senior in regards to Project-Saga, so I look forward to learning from you as we work together in this event.

Tori: Huh? Er, right, hello to you too?

T-This is probably what you'd consider a typical introduction, but since everyone in Yumenosaki's rude by default I actually feel even more awkward instead!

Chiaki: Well, that isn’t good, is it? I’m Morisawa Chiaki of Rain-bows, and I thank you for your courtesy!

Now, I’ve been a huge fan of Sagami-sensei for the longest time! Being able to take part in Project-Saga with him feels like such an honour!

Jun: A huge fan of Sagami Jin? Hmph, that so…?

Chiaki: Yeah. …So I can guess what sort of grudges you might hold against him.

Jun: …Yeah, only a guess. You can't even begin to imagine how I feel.

You'd never understand how I felt when I found out Sagami Jin decided to casually waltz back in after bailing for so long, acting like some kinda respectable teacher and showing his face again as an idol.

I’ve read up on everything 'bout you guys, from Rain-bows’s work history to all the magazines you guys were featured in —

Although, since some people kept it a secret from me, I had to binge through everything in a rush.

Stared at the papers for so long I coulda burnt holes in them… Thanks to that, I had to see his face in my dreams every night since.

Chiaki: I see. And now that you’ve read the articles, what do you think? Doesn’t it feel like Super Idol Sagami Jin has returned with the same vigor?

Jun: Well, who knows 'bout that… Magazines always sensationalise the smallest things, so I can’t tell without seeing him onstage myself, y'know?

That's why I'm gonna do exactly that, and test him myself in this Reverse Live.

Jun: I’ve waited for this chance all my life, for as long as I can remember… So I can’t go easy on you even if I wanted to. Real sorry 'bout that.

Now, gentlemen of Rain-bows, you all better prepare yourselves, yeah?

[ ☆ ]

✦✦✦✦✦

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[lucius-the-sinful]

Feather Fall

Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Original Witcher Character, Geralt of Rivia, Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel, Keldar, Winter at Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen, Kaer Seren, Destruction of Kaer Seren, Griffin School Description: With Kaer Seren nothing more than a pile of rubble, Old Keldar sends his protege, Zafir of Spalla, to Kaer Morhen in hopes Vesemir will grant the few remaining griffins sanctuary.

ao3 link + full fic below the cut

The snow fell from the dark gray clouds, adding to the deep drifts. It also clung to the hood and cloak of a witcher, riding a white stallion along the winding path through the dense mountains. The snow made it difficult to see, and the witcher had doubts that he even traveled the correct path, but as he approached the top of a steep incline, he could see the fortress of Kaer Morhen, even through the thickening snow. Under the hood, he sighed a white cloud of warm breath, and continued forward. 

About an hour later he was at the gate, leading his horse by the reins. He saw the glow of a torch on the other side, another hooded witcher. The only feature that stood out as he approached was the ugly scars on the right side of his face. "You're awfully late," Eskel called. "What's your name, griffin?" 

"Zafir of Spalla," The witcher answered. 

"Then come inside, I'll get the gate," The wolf walked off, and in moments that gate no longer stood in Zafir's path. Eskel held out a hand. "I'll take your horse, the others are in the main keep preparing dinner." 

"Thanks," Zafir murmured, and crossed into the inner courtyards, and eventually to the main keep. Once out of the elements, he let his hood down, his white hair falling to about waist length. The tips of his ears gave away his elven heritage, their slight but notable points poking from the white waves. He bore no scars on his dark skin, but had dark tattoos along his neck. Around it he wore a griffin shaped medallion. Zafir's golden viper eyes scanned the room, landing on a group of tables towards the back, where about ten witchers sat around a cooking fire. He recognized one of the group, the oldest of the bunch with gray hair. Zafir approached the tables, Vesemir meeting him halfway. Zafir stood a good head taller. 

"I see Eskel let another pup in," Vesemir said, the chatter of the other wolves quieted to murmurs.

"You jest," Zafir rasped. "But I am no pup. I only ask to stay the rest of winter. I will hunt, gather herbs, keep monsters away."

Vesemir studied the griffin. He folded his arms. "I can see you had a long journey, but why not go to Kaer Seren?" 

"Kaer Seren has been destroyed. Most of us are dead." The statement brought silence into the great hall. Zafir glanced at each of their faces, none he recognized. 

Vesemir hummed. "I see. In that case, we can afford to house one more. I'll find you a bed, go stand by the fire." 

Zafir wasn't going to argue, he walked past the old witcher. A few of the other witchers began talking amongst one another, while some stared at Zafir as he found a solitary spot on the floor. He sat with an arm over his knee, shoulders hunched forward. He was more saddle sore than he has ever felt, and his eyelids felt heavy. He watched the flames mindlessly for a few moments, the voices behind him blending together in a low hum. He was unsure the amount of time had passed, when a shadow stood over him. Zafir glimpsed up to see the man who let him in, holding a modest bowl of stew. Zafir accepted the food. "I brought your saddlebags in," Eskel said. "Set them by the bed Vesemir dug out for you." 

"Thanks," Zafir murmured, he had completely forgotten about them. He sipped on the broth. It wasn't anything extravagant. "You didn't have to." 

Eskel shrugged. "It's nothing. Seemed like you were traveling for quite a while." 

Zafir stared back into the fire. "I wish to not talk about it." 

"Don't blame you. But Vesemir's going to have questions." 

"He'll have his answers tomorrow," With that, Eskel joined the other wolves. 

~*~

Zafir slept better than he had in weeks, and woke up not nearly as sore. His bed was on the outer edge of where the others slept, and when he stirred most of the other wolves were still sleeping. Only three beds were empty. Admittedly, Zafir had always been an early riser, so this didn't surprise him much. He left his swords under his bed, and took quick inventory of his bags. He hadn't gone through many potions over his journey, as he stuck to main roads and didn't pick up any contracts. His rations were extremely low but he'd worry about that come spring. His extra clothing, however, was soiled, and he felt a deep need for a bath too. It was time to talk to Vesemir. 

Zafir walked the halls for a bit, getting an idea of the general layout. Then ventured outside, where the sun reflected blindingly off the freshly fallen snow. Down the stone stairs, he saw Vesemir, Eskel, and a third white haired witcher he did not know yet clearing the snow around the training course. Vesemir saw Zafir, said something to the others and approached. 

"Surprised you're up," Vesemir chuckled. "Come, I have some questions. You can answer them while helping." 

The griffin nodded and followed the old witcher, so much for a bath. He was given a flat shovel to scoop the snow, and he did so without complaint. 

"You've already met Eskel," Vesemir said. "This one is Geralt of Rivia." 

"Nice to meet you," Geralt said. 

"Likewise," Zafir replied. 

They scooped snow for a while, eventually clearing most of the courtyard. After doing so, the four witchers took a bit of a break. 

"Getting a bit too old for this," Vesemir griped. "The others need to start putting the work in around here." 

"You'll never convince Lambert," Eskel chuckled. "He'd much rather see this place in rubble." 

Zafir stared at Eskel. "I know you just, but I just saw my own home in rubble." Eskel straightened. 

Vesemir hummed. "Yes you mentioned. How did it happen?" 

The griffin sighed. "From what I gathered, there was a group of mages who wanted access to Kaer Seren's library. Old Keldar didn't allow it, and for good reason. A few weeks ago, as we were gathering back at the fort for winter, an avalanche was triggered. The timing was too much of a coincidence. Myself and Keldar were the only survivors at the fort.”

“Where is Keldar now?” Vesemir asked. 

“Likely at the fort, trying to find evidence it was the work of mages and guarding the ruins. He told me there was nothing left for me at Kaer Seren. That I should seek the comradery of the wolves,” Zafir looked away. “There is one other witcher of the griffins. He was not home when it happened, and will likely be sent here too if he tries to return.” 

Vesemir nodded. “I see… Well, as long as you follow our rules and do your part, those who remain of your school are welcome at Kaer Moren.” 

“Thank you, your kindness will not be taken in vain,” Zafir said. “Anything else you wish to know?” 

“There is no need to prod further,” Vesemir murmured. “Besides, I’d prefer to get back to work. There’s still lots of snow to clear and even more repairs to make.” 

~*~

Days passed without much event. Most of the wolves left Zafir be, much to his relief. Eskel and Geralt showed hesitant kindness, answering his questions about the fort and the surrounding area. Vesemir gave him various tasks to keep him busy, which he did without question. It also kept his mind occupied, he didn’t think much about what he would do come spring, or wonder how Keldar fared, or about everything the griffin’s had lost. 

On the fourth day, he was asked to do a midday patrol in the woods. He agreed, despite dreading going out on a somewhat boring task. As midday approached, he went to the stables to saddle his horse. He saw Geralt doing the same with his chestnut mare. 

"Vesemir wanted me to join you," Geralt said. "Just so I can show you the usual route." 

Zafir nodded, now even more hesitant. "Let's get going, then." There was silence between them as they went about saddling their horses and adjusting the bridle. The silence followed them through the main gate and into the snow covered woods. They traveled along the main trail a short distance, then Geralt stopped and led his horse onto a trodden side path. Zafir followed wordlessly. 

"Vesemir never really told us much about the other schools, other than they existed," Geralt spoke. "What was it like?" 

"Like all of the others, I'd only assume," Zafir answered, the question catching him off guard. "Boys as young as four were subjected to mutations, low survival rate. Then rigorous training for those who did. However, we exercised more than just our sword and bestiary." 

"What more could there be?" 

"Well, for instance, the different ways the mutations would affect different boys who survived. Did you know that there are a few different combinations of alchemical material that can be mixed to generate different results?" 

"Never gave it much thought," Geralt hummed. 

"Heritage also plays a role, too. Non humans are unable to take on the effects, half breeds can survive but the chances are severely lowered." 

Geralt glanced at Zafir, narrowing his gaze. "I suspected you were not fully human." 

"You'd be correct. My father was an elf, and I was either very unlucky to be subjected to the trials, or very lucky to have survived. But… These things are all theoretical, and only a small taste of the knowledge that Kaer Seren held in its library. Thousands and thousands of books, all containing the secrets of the Order and more," Zafir frowned. "And all swallowed by an avalanche in the matter of mere moments. I only hope our theory about the mages is wrong.”

“Well, theory or not it certainly put Vesemir on edge. But I seriously doubt there is anything in our library worth destroying Kaer Morhen over." 

"Maybe." Zafir murmured. 

~*~

Another storm rolled in a week later, trapping the witchers inside Kaer Moren. While most of them gathered around the fireplace and drank through the day and night, Zafir occupied the candle-lit laboratory. He spent the first few hours experimenting with more potent ingredient combinations, writing the results in his journal. As he was bottling some of his new concoctions, another witcher strolled in. He was the youngest of the group, who Zafir had few indecent exchanges with. Lambert held a crate of bottles of alcohost, that he nearly dropped on the table. One of the potions wobbled, and would have toppled over if not for Zafir’s reflexes. The griffin glared at Lambert. “What do you want?” He snapped, patience already wearing thin. 

Lambert leaned on the crate, looking at Zafir’s work. “Dunno. Vesemir told me to hall this crate down here. And to make sure you weren’t disrupting his moldy books,” Lambert nodded to a series of bookshelves that were covered in a blanket of dust. 

“I have little interest in the basic knowledge every witcher should know,” Zafir muttered, firmly corking his potions before Lambert could cause real harm. 

“I don’t even remember half the shit Vesemir taught us,” Lambert raised a brow. “Sitting through his lectures was worse than watching paint dry.” 

“That is to be expected of a man with your character,” He bent under the table, digging through one of his saddlebags for a wooden box. 

“Asshole,” Lambert walked around the table, picking up one of Zafir’s potions and swirling the pitch black liquid inside. It sparkled like oil against the dim light. Despite nearly spilling it just moments before, he handled the bottle with the same care he would a freshly sharpened blade. “Black blood, but you did something to it?” 

Zafir watched Lambert closely. “There is a thistle that grows in Koviss with toxic thorns that have a minor paralytic effect. When properly portioned with the other ingredients of black blood, those effects can be enhanced. I hope it has the potential to paralyze a vampire or similar fiend when they bite.” 

“Interesting, although it just sounds like you had a deadly encounter with a vampire. Not that you would have the scars to prove it,” Lambert gently set the bottle down. “A witcher without scars. You’re even more of a freak than the rest of us.” 

Zafir opened the box, where he had about three potions of various colors remaining. He opened a secondary compartment, where he stored his newly mixed potions. “Did you just accept Vesemir’s task so you could bother me?” 

“Perhaps. If you hadn’t noticed, it's a bit boring and miserable upstairs. And when Geralt gets back from watch I don’t want to be sent out there. The snow is sideways, Zafir.” 

“Ah, so you’re hiding,” The corners of Zafir’s lips twitched. “I think I should go thank Vesemir for bringing down the crate of alcohost, and that you were very excited for Geralt to return from watch.” 

Lambert’s cocky smile flattened. “Was that your attempt at humor?”

Zafir returned his gaze to his box, putting it back together and closing it. “I don’t really want to go out there either, in truth.” 

Lambert wandered over to some more crates on the far side of the room, moving them aside. “So you’re hiding too,” There was another crate behind the others, with a thick bear hide over top. “Vesemir is so shit at hiding his good stuff,” He reached down, pulling out an intricate bottle. “Would be a shame if a couple of idiots like us got into it.” 

Zafir frowned, then sighed. "I suppose you aren't going to just let me walk out, are you?" 

"Drinking alone sucks," Lambert popped the cork. 

"I know." 

~*~

Voices muttered incoherent sentences around Zafir. Swimming through the inky blackness, he felt lost and unsure. One voice called to him above all of them, one he believed to be Old Keldar's. The other voices turned to screams. The walls crumbled, he was trapped and unable to move under the rubble. He would die here--alone, cold, and no afterlife to look forward to. Just as his senses were fading, Old Keldar yelled for him again, but this time right against his ear. 

Zafir jerked awake, his heart pounding in his chest. He was in the hard, stone floor of Kaer Morhen's laboratory, with something heavy on his legs. He blinked the blurriness from his vision, and saw Vesemir standing over him with his arms crossed. Zafir glanced down to see Lambert laying on his back over his legs, who was also slogging through his first moments awake after a long night of drinking. 

"I don't know who I'm more disappointed in," Vesemir grumbled. "Lambert, for stealing from my stash. You, griffin, for giving in to his shenanigans. Or myself, for thinking better of both of you. Now get up, and start shoveling snow." 

The old witcher left, still muttering under his breath. Zafir sighed, painstakingly moving his sleeping legs out from under Lambert. The younger witcher groaned, now on his side with his back to Zafir. "Worth it," He burped. 

Zafir shook his head. "You won't be saying that when fighting a hangover and working." 

Lambert groaned. 

~*~

Despite the cold, the sun being out made it much more bearable for the trade off of the blinding reflections in the snow. Lambert looked more miserable with each passing minute, while Zafir attempted to tough out his own hangover. They worked together for about an hour in silence. Upon realizing they made little progress, Lambert dropped his shovel in the snow pile where it stood upright, and opted for a break. “Fuck this,” He grumbled. 

There was movement from behind them, and Zafir glanced over to see Eskel coming from the main fort with two mugs. Steam swirled off the top of them. Zafir set his shovel against a wooden fortification, and walked over as Eskel handed Lambert one of the mugs. He gave the other to Zafir. "Coffee," He explained. 

"Thank you," Zafir murmured, waiting for the hot beverage to cool off. Meanwhile, Lambert showed less restraint, taking a drink that surely burnt his tongue. Eskel shook his head at the young wolf. 

"Vesemir's pissed, still," Eskel smirked. 

"He can go plough himself," Lambert grumbled. "He should share his good shit more often." 

Eskel looked pointedly at Zafir. "I didn't take you for the drinking type." 

The griffin shrugged, looking into his mug. "Spur of the moment.” 

“He’s a light weight,” Lambert snickered. “And a sappy one, at that. Before he passed out, he went on and on about how grateful he was to Vesemir for taking him in, then almost cried for drinking the old man’s stash.” 

In reality, Zafir had little memory of what transpired after the first few drinks. It sounded like him, but only Lambert could confirm this detail. “You have no evidence of this.” 

Eskel chuckled. “I don’t know, I could see it. I do know that after a certain point, Lambert’s drunken yowling woke us up. Do you know how loud you have to be shouting for us to hear you through stone, Lam? Eventually, the old man got sick of it. Not sure what he did to get you to stop or what it was you were screaming about in the first place.” Zafir drank his coffee to hide his amused smile. Lambert scooped up a handful of snow, and in a flash the clump had left his hand and was splattered across Eskel’s face, the wolf recoiling from the blow. “What was that for?!” Eskel cried, already arming himself. 

The griffin stepped out of the crossfire as the two engaged in a deadly snowfight, ending with Eskel using aard to throw his brother into the snow bank. Lambert growled. “Foul play, Eskel!” The man in question grinned menacingly. 

“Eskel!” Vesemir’s voice boomed across the courtyard. “Get back in here, and you two! Get back to work!” 

Zafir hummed, setting his empty mug on the stone steps, and going back to his shovel. Lambert dug himself out, digging snow out of the folds and crevices of his armor. Eskel retreated back inside. As Zafir continued to dig a path, he was jostled by the impact of a snowball hitting his shoulder. He turned to see Lambert’s sinister grin. “Prick, you were supposed to help,” The wolf said. 

“It was a fair fight, I wasn’t going to tip the balance,” Zafir mused. Lambert rolled his eyes, and got back to work.

~*~

Zafir found the company of wolves comforting; when the snow ebbed away under the sun’s rays and new buds of weed sprouted from the thawing ground, he found it difficult to want to leave. A few of the others already set on the path again. Zafir planned to take his leave, too, in the coming days. He was packing his saddlebags with freshened clothing, counting his potions he spent weeks preparing, and taking stock of his ingredients. All that remained was to make himself some trail rations and fill his canteens with water. He heard Vesemir approaching, and tilted his head to look up at the old man from where he sat. 

“Leaving so soon?” He asked with his arms crossed. 

Zafir hummed. “Yes. I wanted to thank you. I am grateful you took me in. If I see Old Keldar while on the path, I will send him your regards.” 

Vesemir nodded, then sat next to Zafir. “You are welcome to come back next winter.”

“I will remember that.”

The old wolf gave the griffin a crooked smile and a pat on the shoulder, then left. Later that afternoon, as Zafir rode along the same trail that brought him to Kaer Morhen, he felt a renewed vigor. To accomplish what, he was not certain. 

[farmergilesofham]

My Second Destiny OC Story (Part 2 of the first)

---

Having dealt with the wanderers' Hive-related problem, I found myself showered by invitations to accompany the group in their journey towards the Last City, of which they too had heard tell. Their accounts differed somewhat from the stories Loxley had regaled me with, but remained much the same in the important respects: it was a safe haven, it was a place of rest, it was a place where they could raise their children without fear. The Last City, in my travels with these people and others, took on mythical form - it was with a religious fervor that the young and old alike spoke of it, of its flying buttresses, of its valiant defenders, of a city bathed in the eternal reverent Light of the Traveler.

All told, I was their protector for ninety-seven years. We crossed an ocean together.

Before my arrival, the party (whom the children tried to name all manner of creative things, to little avail) had subsisted mainly by scavenging for food, water, and supplies. Their defensive capabilities were nonexistent, and their pursuit by a single contingent of Hive had left everyone ragged and on the near edge of despair. I soon set about rectifying their situation.

The surrounding landscape still seemed shockingly devoid of life, despite being so close to fairly dense woodland, yet it was not awfully long before careful snares found a dozen oversized hares, and scrummaging in the undergrowth produced some of the most excellent mushrooms I have ever had the genuine pleasure to set eyes upon. Travel was essential, however, so I set about having the strongest of the adults fell a few thin beeches, which were swiftly lashed together into the base of a hand-cart. However, with the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, I despaired for the lack of some solid wooden wheels, until I was shown the most excellent invention made popular at some point after my death - wheels crafted from solid metal! Quite the invention indeed.

Fitted with a proper set of wheels, repurposed from some terribly rusted machine, the cart housed most of the group's possessions, and seated the children when travelling across difficult terrain. We set out that same evening, the group filled with a sudden confidence that my arrival meant they could finally entertain their dream of reaching the Last City, alive.

The stars are different now than I remember them, if only slightly. There are somewhat fewer of them.

Our first meal, taken around midnight as we reached a more defensible location - a wooded hollow, in the midst of three rotund boulders - was apparently the best they had had in months. It was the first thing I had eaten in centuries, but to mention such a thing would have been rude, I figured. The spit-roasted hares were delicious, as were the mushrooms we fried on a large, flat rock. I found some small root vegetables quite similar to potatoes growing just at the foot of one boulder, and a treatment on the rock found they were, indeed, some variation of potato hitherto unknown to me. I have made note of these and other new plants in my personal journal, which for now I shall be keeping to myself. I can't have you stealing my best recipes, can I?

I watched over them, sleeping huddled together around the long fire, as the gentle light of the stars slipped away in lieu of a warm, bright sunrise. We set off shortly thereafter, and that is when I learned all their names.

The eldest members of the party, each at least sixty when I joined them, if not older, were Darma, Mago, and Kara. Darma was a surprisingly spry, chestnut-brown woman, with all the telltale signs of a long and active life resplendent on her ever-smiling face. Mago, a crotchety old fellow ever possessed of more bark than bite, as he snuck little sugardrops to the children while their parents weren't looking, only to complain over some ache of his or another when eyes turned back to him. He, too, had skin dark by nature, and darkened still by so much time in the sun, in contrast with the shock of white hair miraculously clinging on to his aged scalp. Kara was... she was kind. She was easily the most able of the elders, and used that ability wisely indeed. In the end, she outlived even some of the younger generation, and we buried her under the shade of an aged oak in sight of the sea. She always said that if nothing else, she wanted to see the ocean at least once before she died.

I sat with her, in the light of the setting sun, and held her hand as she passed with the ending of the day.

The other original members of the party were Aulia, Alina, Siobhan, Kronan, Salieri, Perrhe, and Himilco among the adults, along with the children: Stora, Sinon, Parrha, Arrhon, Siti, Velasqua, and Kastor. Most folk were unrelated, stragglers picked up along the road or secreted away from unfavourable situations. Perrhe, Parrha and Arrhon were the only ones there related by blood, and they flourished when everyone worked together. It was after learning everyone's names that I taught the children how to make themselves a sling, with which they might catch themselves a bird for dinner, or knock down anything stuck higher than they could reach it. For the rest, as we made camp the following evening, I fashioned in short order a set of staves, with slots for lashing on simple metal points.

Though the stars are a little different, I can still navigate by their position, and indeed I used this to our advantage... until Lox chimed in, helpfully pointing out that in fact he had had a compass embedded somewhere in that biscuit tin of a body this entire time. Alas, my chances of seeming the all-knowing leader were dashed, and Lox was unbearable for the rest of the week. Do not believe anything he tells you about my being weepy and inconsolable, it is nonsense.

At a certain point, a hazy, jagged mass appeared on the horizon. We spent much of the day walking along well-beaten earth towards it, each mile passed emphasising the enormity of what we then thought was a low mountain, encrusted with outcrops of jagged stone.

That is all, for now. Of my first meeting with a Warlord, and the events which transpired thereafter, I may yet relay at a later date.

[natasharswifey]

Take me home. (1)

Summary: Yelena Belova had been a Widow ever since she could remember, and Katya was just another mission. Until she wasn’t.

Or.

What if it was Yelena who left someone behind?

____☆____

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a oneshot but they're just too silly.

Tags: Swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, cold Yelena

(Complete)

Link to fic on Ao3

Yelena skulks in the shadows of gloomy alleyways while waiting for her target to arrive walking her usual route.

For an ex Red Room spy she was far too hasty to fall into a routine. Well she wasn’t going to be an ‘ex’ Red Room spy for much longer.

Yelena had been sent out with orders to capture this ‘Rio Torrez’ and bring her back to where she belonged.

This girl had truly believed she would be able to live an ordinary life after escaping, finding roomates to settle down with and attending the local collage while taking hits on the side to make money.

To be fair she had gotten considerably far away, probably the furthest Yelena had ever seen a Widow get. But now it was time for her to return, willingly or unwillingly.

____☆____

After what feels like hours off schedule the girl starts walking down the street, turning into the alleyway which was a shortcut to her home.

“Awfully late to be walking out by yourself, hm?” Yelena steps out of the shadows and can immediately notice the girl’s shift in demeanour.

“Not interested.” She replies blunty, almost shoving past Yelena as she continues her journey.

“That’s no way to treat one of your superiours, Katya.” The use of her mother tongue has the girl’s attention and she turns back around, trying to mask her nerves.

“I go by Rio now.”

“It doesn’t matter, Rio, Katya, Agent 00687. I’m here to bring you back.”

“I’d rather die than go back there.” Katya’s tone is even and serious.

It’s not a very uncommon response for those Yelena captures, so it doesn’t have the desired effect.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with already."

Yelena produces a syringe with a cloudy liquide inside and rapidly approaches Katya, she retaliates by flicking out a sizeable knife.

Yelena can easily get the upper hand on the younger girl, she’s an experienced fighter but Yelena is older and faster.

She throws Katya against the wall, instantly picking up on when she cradles her right arm.

Yelena decides to take advantage of the girl’s presumed injury and lands a firm kick on it, which would most likely leave a lasting effect on an arm that wasn’t even previously affected.

It ends with Yelena pinning the girl down on the unforgiving and unsanitary street. Katya squirms and attempts to roll Yelena off of her, but it’s all in vain.

“I thought this would be a little more difficult, I must admit.” Yelena remarks, finally managing to get the girl still enough to inject her with the sedative safely.

“You’re just lucky I took a fall last week.”

”Excuses, excuses.” Yelena chides before sliding the needle into Katya’s neck, not getting back off of her until she completely stops moving.

____☆____

Katya stumbles in and out of consicousness for the next few hours, able to grasp four things:

She’s in a van, her hands and feet are bound very tightly, and she has no idea where she currently is or how long she’s been out.

An annoyingly familiar voice calls out to her from behind the caged front seat.

“You awake back there?”

Katya groans in response, trying every tactic to wake herself back up but the sedative is too strong for her to fend off more than a few seconds.

Eventually the back doors of the van open up, although Katya can’t even be sure that it’s the same one from before.

“We’ve arrived, sit up I need to untie you.”

“What? No, you can’t bring me back here!” The young girl’s voice lacks the confidence it did before, stripped down to the desperate plea of a traumatised teenager, never once met by sympathy.

“I’m just following orders. But you know that this is where you belong. Sit up.” Yelena’s voice is no longer playful, detaching herself to avoid the raw emotions of the situation as she had many times before.

Katya slowly pulls herself up to a sitting position, trying to ignore the nausea that came with it, and Yelena easily cuts through the rope she was bound with.

“Alright let’s go. You already aren’t on good terms with the general, best not to keep him waiting any longer.”

Katya’s heart feels as though it stops the moment she utters his name.

The General could decide who lived or died with a simple wave of his arm, he controlled everything, even Katya’s superiors who displayed a flicker of fear everytime he entered to observe training.

Yelena looses her patience and drags the younger girl out of the van herself, bringing her to the extration point.

Katya desperately scans the surroundings for any kind of cover or even weapon and her eyes land on a nearby forest.

She waits until Yelena is distracted taking out her phone and sends a kick directly to her liver, causing her to double over in pain and giving her enough time to make it to the treeline.

[nectaric]

@madefate asked: “ of course i came for you… it would take far much more than that to stop me. ” / hestia @ hades!

"i- i know." hades tried to sound convincing, not for her sake but his own. despite how many times she had been there, how many difficult times she had seen him through, hades still found a part of him doubting that hestia wanted to. he had been enough of a burden his entire life, he did not need to drag her here over and over again. making the journey to the underworld was long and cumbersome, and here he was having her make house calls because he could not get a grip. he was not worth the time--

there it was. the reason he had called her there in the first place. the palace was awfully quiet, too quiet. all that was left was hades and his own thoughts and the longer he sat with them, the more dangerous they became.

his call had been frantic. she had likely assumed the worst.

hades let hestia into his house, brushing his hair back with shaking fingers, tying it back as he went. "i know the distance to the underworld doesn't bother you, but its still... well, its-"

hades sighed. "do you want some tea? i can make some."

he hurried down the hall towards the kitchen, and felt his shade servants shrink away from him. they could tell he was agitated, afraid to face him, and the thought made hades' stomach lurch.

"i thought some company would be nice." he admitted, pushing open the door to his lavish kitchen. "necessary, maybe. i do not feel so well." admitting that was hard enough, but hades knew it was rude to call her all the way here for nothing.

"thank you." he said earnestly, begging her to understand. he was afraid of himself.

[darklinsblog]

Humankind’s finest Part 2 | Sandman imagine

Part 1 | Part 3

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Human! Disabled Fem Reader

Summary: Having admitting his feelings for the human girl, Morpheus is now found with the difficult reality of telling her the truth of his identity.

 Morpheus had never felt this uneasiness before in his life, he knew that if he wanted his relationship with Y/N to remain, he had to tell her all the truth about him being one of the Endless, King of the Dreams, he had to present himself as the myth in the flesh. But he was undoubtedly terrified.

Because there was a good chance she could walk away from him, after all acknowledging beings with tremendous power like his could be a really hard pill to swallow, and no matter in how many pieces his heart could shattered at his lady’s possible rejection, he would never be able to blame her for leaving. Being held captive had changed him to his very core, he longed to be loved, to care and be cared for; and even with all that fear clouding his mind he was brave enough to ask her to meet up at her apartment.

He was now at her door, doubting if he should knock or not, part of him wanted to walk away, leave her before she even got the chance to break his heart.

“Just fucking knock” his bird groaned, utterly annoyed by his master’s behavior he decided to fly to the bell and ring once and for all. A few moments passed before the girl appeared on the door, with her wheelchair and her signature lovely smile that she always gave him.

“Are you not saying hello?” She joked around, her humor easing his nerves just a bit, so he finally leaned towards her to kiss her cheek while she took advantage of his gesture to softly hug him, taking in the scent of his cologne that she loved so much before she let him in.

They reached the living room before she asked what was going on.

“You look a lot more pale than usual” she commented, not in a playful manner like she had before, her tone let out a hint of sincere concern for the man, which made him sigh and soften his gaze as he held her hand. He asked nervously for her to listen intently to what he had to say before she said anything, she grew visibly anxious as she shifted uncomfortably on her spot.

Suddenly, all the words started coming out, and they couldn’t be stopped, he revealed his identity, his journey, he went on and explained about his realm, The Dreaming. How he was held captive by Roderick Burgess and his family for over a century by mistake, and finally he explained how he ended up coming across her shop. Throughout all of this, she listened intently, remaining awfully quiet as she took on all that new information.

When Morpheus finished pouring his heart out to the young woman she let her whole weight fall back onto her wheelchair, staring into the Endless’ eyes, seeing him in a whole different light.

“You’re telling me you could literally have any Goddess in the world, quite literally and you chose me?” She frowned, Dream could tell she was conflicted, for the first time since he had known her he could sense fear and nervousness in her features.

“I-I’m human! Morpheus there’s nothing special about me, my whole life for you would be like five minutes, I will age and die and- why would you want to live through that pain?” She found herself at the verge of tears and The Sandman ran up to her, kneeling before her while cupping her face in his cold hands.

“Don’t ever say that again” he said looking into her eyes, seeing how the tears rolled down her cheeks “You are the most fascinating being I have ever laid my eyes on. Don’t ever think you are less worthy of love than any other, I’ve seen with my own eyes how people mistreated you and if I could punish them for hurting you, I would.”

“I don’t want to cause you anymore pain…” she whispered, making the Lord of Dreams smile widely as he rested his forehead against hers softly.

He was so scared of her leaving because of who he was, but here she was, caring for him, she didn’t want to walk away because she did not love him, but rather, she loved him so that she was willing to let him go to avoid him the suffering for her death. That was a true act of courage and love.

“My love… You cause me nothing but the greatest joy. I could give you immortality so we spent the rest of eternity together if that’s what you wish. But even if you could only be mortal, I would rather thirty, forty or fifty years by your side than to never experience the uniqueness of your love”

He was being truthful, the love he had for Y/N was unlike any other…

Nada, Callipso, while he did fall for them, Y/N was different, if anyone had told him he would fall in love with a mortal in such a mad way, he would’ve walked away fuming and yet here he was. Kneeling before the woman he loved so, offering her the gift of immortality, completely at her mercy as he touched his face delicately.

“Eternity seems like an awful lot of time” she said.

“Come to The Dreaming with me, I’ll show you everything and you can later decide what you want” the girl smiled, all this seemed like a fairytale, in which she was the pretty princess, which made Morpheus the charming prince, an idea she wasn’t mad about.

“How do I do that?” She asked curiously.

“Just close your eyes and dream tonight, I will find you” he promised.

Coming back to The Dreaming felt different this time, Lucienne was there looking at the King with a slightly puzzled expression.

“Are you alright, my Lord?” She asked.

“Never been better Lucienne. We will have a visitor in the Kingdom” the librarian looked surprised.

“May I ask who this visitor is?”

“Y/N” Lucienne smiled “I trust you will take care of everything”

“Of course, my Lord” she affirmed simply, before excusing herself, knowing there were quite a few things to take care of before Y/N came to the Kingdom that night.

Dream was inspecting his attire for that night, his heart was pounding with excitement, at the simple thought of truly showing who he was, his kingdom, his people to the one he loved.

“Sandman”

He heard her call out for him, and he was quick to run and look for her through the lands of The Dreaming. Until he finally met her again, she was sitting in her wheelchair with a long white dress, at the sight of her beauty he seemed out of breath, and he quickly went in and held her in his arms. He gently picked her up from her usual seating spot, nuzzling her head and smiling into her hair, taking in the distinctive scent. Feeling oddly at peace in her arms.

“Are you ready to meet the Kingdom?” He asked once he was physically able to pull away.

“I’ve never looked forward to anything more in my life” she said, he carefully helped her to grab his arm so they could walk steadily towards the castle.

“Won’t I be needing my wheelchair?”

“My love, this is the Dreaming. If you want it you can just simply think of it and it will appear before you”

“Right, I forget everything is possible here” she giggled. Walking into the large castle was a whole experience Y/N saw any kind of mythical creatures wandering around the castle, greeting at their ruler. She was mesmerized at how respected and loved he was by those around him. Soon they entered the library being greeted by Lucienne, Mervyn and Morpheus’ raven Matthew. The woman was taken back in surprise at the sight of the man whose pumpkin head was floating.

“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to our visitor Y/N. Y/N these are Lucienne, Mervyn and of course Matthew, whom you’ve met” As the Lord of Dreams introduced his servants, the girl shook their hands, giving them a warm smile, every single one of them seemed delighted to finally meet her in The Dreaming realm.

“It’s nice to see you here, Morpheus won’t ever shut up about you. It’s always Y/N this, Y/N that” Matthew went on, Mervyn nudged the bird to prevent him from talking further.

“You could talk? You would’ve saved me a lot of time trying to puzzle him out” she said playfully, making Morpheus’ cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

They spent more time in the library, as Y/N insisted to explore the library further, it was a lovely picture to see Y/N inspect the thousands of books, helping Lucienne stacking the volumes in their place, they were talking cheerfully until it was finally time to head out, as Morpheus had other plans for Y/N.

Dream had decided to take her to Fiddler’s Green. If there was a perfect place to take care to, Fiddler’s Green was just that and he remembered how the sentient always ensured his ruler would fall in love again. They laid on a broad tree, Morpheus had his arm around Y/N’s waist while placing butterfly kisses around her face, the girl giggled while staring into the sunset. It all felt like a romance movie, the one big love story that was inspiring.

“Can I really stay here?” She asked quietly

“If that’s what you wish, yes” he explained “But I do want to warn you, staying by my side might not be the safest choice. While you would be able to escape Death you can still be imprisoned or tortured, some of my siblings may see you as a tool to weaken me” he sighed, it was just fair for her to put all the cards on the table before she made a choice, but that didn’t make it any less easier.

“Hey” she said placing a hand on his shoulder. He dared to look at her through the fear because against all odds he was excited to give his all to her till the end of time and beyond.

But she had to choose him first.

“As long as we have eternity, I will always come back to you. You hear me?” The King let out a deep breathe he failed to realize he was holding back.

She had actually chose him, even when she had a handful of reasons not to. Selfish as it may be, he allowed himself to be happy, and for the first time in millions of years (literally), he gave himself permission to imagine a happy life for himself.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The upcoming visit of a particular Noble has Merlin on edge;

Gwen has to explain why to an incredulous, soon to be horrified, Arthur.

TW: Physical abuse.

Arthur doesn’t question it when Merlin drops an empty tray moments after he was told of Lord Dunstan’s upcoming visit, he simply rolls his eyes and mutters something about incompetence.

Merlin wordlessly cleans up the mess as Arthur goes on to tell him to make sure the Steward was aware, and to have a servant ready for him.

Merlin’s... subdued, behaviour in the following weeks however, does invite question, but Arthur quickly drops it when Merlin snaps at him. It’s rare that Merlin gets angry (or openly angry), so The King shrugs his shoulders, and stops pushing it.

If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that all the servants seemed a little muted, not even Gwen was holding the long conversations with him that she usually does. But Arthur was a King, preparing for the visit of a long-standing family friend he hasn’t seen since Uther died.

He had more important things to worry about than the conspiratorial whispering between Merlin, the Steward, and George. So he left it. He figured Merlin was just finally getting in trouble for being a shit servant, and deserved whatever he got.

~

When the morning of Lord Dunstan’s arrival finally came, Merlin was unusually quiet as he dressed and readied Arthur; but Arthur was so preoccupied by complaining at the small portion of his breakfast, he didn’t notice (or at least didn’t comment on) Merlin’s lack of sarcasm or witty insults.

Just as Arthur finished eating, a knock resounded from the chamber entrance. Arthur frowned in confusion, he wasn’t expecting news of Lord Dunstan’s arrival for another hour or so, but Merlin seemed pleased as he opened the door.

A young servant boy, who Arthur vaguely recognised as being called Tristan, walked in. He seemed nervous, but smiled when Merlin patted  him on the shoulder, whispering encouragement that Arthur couldn’t quite hear.

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Merlin when he turned back, but before the King could question him, Merlin spoke:

“This is Tristan, My Lord. He’ll be serving you during the day whilst Lord Dunstan is here. Be nice to him.”

Arthur frowned, sternly saying:

“Well, where will you be? I don’t recall giving you any time off, Merlin.”

Tristan gulped, but Merlin ruffles his hair as he rolls his eyes, before heading towards the door, replying over his shoulder:

“It’s my turn to serve the visiting noble and there’s a few things to sort out before he arrives. The servants have a rota.”

He shuts the door behind him briefly, before opening it and sticking his head back through, giving Arthur a pointed look before repeating:

“Be nice to him.”

The door quickly shuts again, and Arthur sputters indignantly. Tristan cleared his throat slightly before shyly asking:

“Is there anything you require to be done today, My Lord?”

Arthur’s attention is quickly drawn back to the boy, around fourteen summers old, and he fixes him with a confused stare before his brain seems to catch up, and he responds:

“Uh... yes, there’s a... wait, do you.. do you know how to read and write?”

Arthur doesn’t really think about it often, he doesn’t need to, but he was aware that most commoners, even servants working in the castle, didn’t know how to read.

The nerves seem to drain from Tristan’s face as he gives the King a wide smile:

“Yes, Sire. Merlin started teaching me when I first started working here last summer. I’m pretty good at it now, as long as it isn’t too complicated.”

Arthur is taken aback at that. Of course, teaching peasant children to read and write sounds like exactly something Merlin would do, so he’s not sure why he’s surprised.

Arthur nods, returning the boy’s smile with an unsure one of his own:

“Right. There’s a list of chores on the desk. Try to get as many of them done as you can but... uh... ask the Steward or Merlin if you need any help, or if you can’t do something.”

Arthur had no real concept of what commoner boys of Tristan’s age were capable of. When Arthur was fourteen, he could recite the names of every Camelot Noble, and decapitate a training dummy without breaking a sweat, but he knows that’s not... normal... for other children.

Tristan nods enthusiastically, and goes to the desk, picking up the list and reading it with furrowed brows and a bitten lip. Arthur sees the deep concentration on his face and the slow pace of his eyes moving over the page, and makes a mental note to allow Merlin an extra few hours a week, to give more official lessons to the younger servants.

Arthur clears his throat, standing from his place at the table and gesturing at the empty tray in front of him:

“Take this down to the kitchens, then get started on the list. I’ll be working in here until Lord Dunstan arrives, make sure to come and inform me as soon as he approaches the castle, I wish to meet him in the courtyard.”

Tristan’s eyes go wide, and his face loses a bit of colour, but he gives Arthur a smile that’s only slightly shaky as he bows, and slips the list into his pocket:

“Yes, of course My Lord.”

The boy’s miniscule change in disposition doesn’t strike Arthur as odd until the door shuts quietly behind him, leaving The King alone in his chambers.

He hums thoughtfully to himself, everyone seemed to be acting strangely this morning. Though perhaps Merlin, and a boy who was spending a lot of time with Merlin, acting strangely shouldn’t be... surprising, to Arthur.

He shrugs his shoulders slightly and sits at his desk, resigning himself to at least an hour’s worth of boring paperwork. 

~

When Tristan came back around a candle mark later to inform The King that Lord Dunstan’s carriage was approaching the castle gates, he seemed even more nervous and tense than earlier.

Arthur noticed, but payed no mind. He figured the boy was just a little overwhelmed with his duties, and made a mental note to ask Merlin to check in on him, the next time he saw the gangly manservant.

He had no time to do so however: the next time Merlin was in Arthur’s presence, he was unloading Dunstan’s baggage as Arthur greeted the Lord.

The two men clasped arms, wide smiles on their faces as Arthur said:

“Welcome back to Camelot, Lord Dunstan. I hope your journey wasn’t too difficult?”

The man’s smile grew as he shook his head:

“No, not difficult at all, we made good time. It’s an honour to be back, My Lord.”

Arthur nodded in satisfaction, and resisted the urge to frown when he noticed how tense Tristan and Merlin seemed, instead keeping the smile on his face:

“Well, lunch will be served in a candle mark or so. You’ll be seen to by my personal manservant for the duration of your stay-”

Arthur gestures loosely at Merlin, who doesn’t react at all as he quietly informs George and one other servant to take Dunstan’s belongings up to the chambers he would be staying in. As the two of them ascend the castle steps, bags in hand, Merlin moves to stand behind the Lord, giving George a knowing look before focusing his gaze on the floor, jaw tense and face blank.

Arthur doesn’t manage to avoid frowning at Merlin’s odd behaviour this time, but covers it quickly before continuing:

“-let him get you settled and then you can join me for a meal in the dining hall. If you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ask him.”

Dunstan looks to a still non-reactionary Merlin, and Arthur takes advantage of his distraction to glance at Tristan, whom he had noticed take a subtle gasp at Arthur’s words. He frowns slightly at the boy’s apprehensive face and strained posture, but looks back as Lord Dunstan drops a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

Arthur can see the bob of Merlin’s throat as he swallows and winces slightly, but stays otherwise still. The King doesn’t have time to think about it before Dunstan joyously exclaims:

“Yes, I remember him from last time. I will take full advantage of your hospitality, My Lord.”

Arthur returns his smile, and gestures to the castle entrance, Merlin’s odd demeanour immediately forgotten. Dunstan removes the hand from Merlin’s shoulder, and the two of them follow Arthur through the large doors. 

They separate in the corridor, Merlin stiffly leading the Lord to the guest chambers, and Arthur and Tristan heading back up to The King’s chambers.

Both of them enter the room, Tristan standing still and tense, expression drawn and concerned as he makes a point of staring at the floor submissively.

Arthur frowns in confusion, trying not to sound accusing as he asks:

“How are you getting on with the list?”

Tristan replies in an even voice, obviously making an effort to sound blank as he keeps his gaze on the floor:

“I’ve crossed off the first three tasks. Is there anything specific you require now, or would you like me to continue with the chores, My Lord?”

Arthur’s eyes widen and he smiles:

“Three? In one hour? That’s brilliant. No I don’t need anything, keep going with the list-”

Tristan bows, still not making eye contact, and wordlessly goes to leave, but Arthur calls him back:

“Wait! What’s gotten you so tense all of a sudden? Speak freely, you won’t be punished or anything, is there a problem somewhere?”

Tristan tenses even further, and turns around with wide eyes. He shakes his head roughly:

“No Sire, no problem.”

Arthur frowns and furrows his eyebrows, but before he can reply, a frantic knocking comes from the door. Before Arthur can ask who it is, the door bursts in harshly and Gwen rushes in, looking panicked:

“Merlin?!-”

Her eyes land on an awfully confused Arthur and she bows very briefly before hurriedly saying:

“-I apologise for the intrusion, My Lord, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mer-”

Her frenetic gaze lands on Tristan, and she lets out a breath before rushing over to him. She puts one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek. She tilts his head carefully, as if looking for something on his face as she says:

“-Oh, Tristan thank the Gods. Matron just told me that you had been assigned to Lord Dunstan. You haven’t been hurt have you?”

Tristan smiles nervously and takes Gwen’s hand from his face as he shakes his head softly.

Arthur looks on in unconcealed bewilderment as the boy quietly replies:

“No. Merlin swapped with me. He’s with the Lord now, and I’m serving His Majesty. I told him I could handle it, but he and George insisted.”

Gwen’s jaw tensed slightly as she shook her head:

“Hmm. You’re not even of age yet Tristan, we won’t let you-”

She looks up nervously at Arthur, seeming to only just remember that The King was in the room with them. She gulps slightly, before plastering a smile on her face and looking back down to the boy:

“-why don’t you run along and finish your chores. I can deal with anything His Majesty needs right now. And stay out of our guest’s way.”

Tristan tilts his head in question, but at Gwen’s slight nod he turns and bows to Arthur, before leaving the room. Gwen watches him go with a concerned frown on her face, but her attention is quickly caught by Arthur again as he suddenly exclaims:

“Right, are you going to tell me what that was about? Why did you think he had been hurt? And Merlin told me it was his turn to serve the visiting noble?”

Gwen looks back to him nervously:

“It’s nothing, My Lord. Do you require anything?”

Arthur scoffs disbelievingly, looking annoyed as he retorts:

“Yes. I require that you answer my questions.”

Gwen frowns again, looking desperately worried as she replies:

“Really, Sire, it’s not anything you should have to concern yourself-”

Arthur holds a hand up, his face morphing from annoyed to worried as he interrupts her:

“Colour me concerned. Speak freely, Guinevere. What’s going on? You, Merlin, and Tristan have been acting noticeably odd all day, and it isn’t even noon yet.”

Gwen gulps, before seeming to sag slightly in resignation. She lets out a breath and looks to the floor as she quietly replies:

“The servants look out for one another, Sire. George is the best servant, gets things done the quickest, but Merlin can... Merlin is the best at taking hits, better than all of us. So whenever a noble is particularly... demanding, they tend to work together, to keep the younger or more inexperienced servants out of harm’s way.”

Arthur’s expression morphs once again, this time to one of puzzlement, and Gwen looks up at him apprehensively as he replies:

“What do you mean, “taking hits”, and since when has Merlin worked with George?”

Gwen tilts her head, before slowly replying:

“I... I don’t really know what to say, My Lord. Whenever a noble is aggressive, George will do his best to make sure everything’s perfect, and Merlin will stop the noble taking an interest in any of the other servants; he’ll take the hits. Lord Dunstan has a- you said I could speak freely, My Lord? I know Lord Dunstan is a friend of yours-”

Arthur nods firmly, muttering an “of course”, starting to realise with numb horror what Gwen might be talking about:

“-well, Lord Dunstan is always rather... violent, with the serving staff, especially the younger ones, so whenever he visits, Merlin takes over serving him, and the rest of us try to keep out of his way, and patch Merlin up at the end of the day.”

Arthur looks shocked, and Gwen frowns as he collapses back into one of the chairs at the table. She slowly walks over, sitting opposite him. When Arthur stays silent, seemingly staring into the distance, Gwen clears her throat and speaks up quietly:

“Surely you knew, My Lord? That we get hit?”

Arthur looks at her in shock, shaking his head incredulously before replying:

“No! No, I didn’t know. Why has no one said anything?”

Gwen tenses her jaw, suddenly looking like she’s trying to control her anger, before she replies harshly, but still quietly:

“What would you have us say, Sire? We’re just servants. Nobles can do whatever they want to us without punishment. And even if abuse of the staff was illegal, who would believe the word of a servant over that of a Noble? Like I said My Lord, we look out for each other. None of us like it, but Merlin is the best at working through injury, so he always takes the violent ones whilst the rest of us do his other duties for him.”

Arthur slumps back in his seat, thinking for a moment whilst Gwen stares at him with an odd mix of anger and pity.

He speaks up again after a few minutes, barely audible:

“Merlin takes the violent ones...”

Gwen nods sympathetically, before replying in a quietly disbelieving tone:

“Yes. Do you actually believe Merlin every time he says he fell down the stairs, or ran into a door, or something else equally stupid and clumsy??-”

Arthur nods wordlessly and Gwen sighs:

“-He disappears for hours at a time, and comes back with all those bruises and injuries because he takes over someone else’s... difficult assignment. We used to try and take turns, and still do very occasionally, when Merlin can’t, but he usually insists. He can take beatings that no one else can; he can somehow work with a fractured jaw and a concussion and all manner of other injuries, children who are barely fourteen summers old can’t.-”

Gwen sighs once again, and Arthur looks up at her in shock as she stares at the table and sniffles slightly, tears filling her eyes as she quietly continues:

“-He’s always been stupidly proud of his ability to work after being thoroughly smacked around, AND hide it from you, but it worries me. One day he’s going to take a hit he can’t get up from.”

Arthur gains his ability to speak again, muttering in a horrified tone:

“Gods. I had no idea. I mean I knew a few of the Lords were a little handsy occasionally, but I put a stop to it when I see it. I didn’t think it was this... widespread.”

Gwen tilts her head, catching Arthur’s eyes. They meet each other’s gaze as Arthur quietly asks:

“Does anyone else know?”

Gwen gives him a weak smile and gulps before she replies, equally quietly:

“Gaius knows. After the first time we had to carry Merlin back to him to get patched up, we started warning him when anyone particularly... violent, was around, so he could prepare.-”

Arthur flinches and looks away slightly at that, the image of other servants having to carry a beaten and bloody Merlin back to Gaius replaying over and over in his head.

Gwen takes his hand sympathetically as she continues:

“-A few of the Roundtable Knights look out for us. We try to keep Gwaine and Elyan away from it because they just get angry and accusing and of course the servants face the repercussions for that later. Leon, Percival, and Lancelot are pretty good at distracting them, so we can escape, but it doesn’t work long-term. Sometimes the Nobles are less willing to be violent in front of others, so some of the guards hang around wherever possible, to keep an eye on us, but they can’t do that all of the time. They do what they can, when they can.”

Arthur nods mutely and Gwen stares at him as he gathers his thoughts. He straightens his back and takes in a deep breath before looking Gwen in the eyes, and firmly asking:

“How bad is Dunstan? Compared to others?”

Gwen winces, glancing away briefly before looking back to Arthur’s determined face:

“He’s... one of the worse ones. Last time he was here, he gave the first servant a broken nose and a concussion, and when Merlin took over, he bruised four ribs, fractured his wrist and collarbone, and ended up with permanent scars all up one of his arms.”

Arthur let out a breath and cursed:

“How did I not notice that? Or did I just take some stupid excuse at face value, again?”

Gwen pursed her lips, replying softly:

“Everything was bandaged up under clothing, and there were no visible bruises. Merlin is... skilled, at hiding his pain. You couldn’t have known.”

Arthur stands suddenly and begins pacing. He huffs before turning back to Gwen, ranting slightly:

“This is unacceptable. This is ridiculous. I want a list. Of all the violent ones, all the even mildly aggressive ones. Nobles, Knights, hell, even royalty, I don’t care. I want to know the names of everyone who thinks it’s acceptable to beat my staff.”

Gwen smiles sadly, and joins him in standing, but shakes her head slightly:

“It’s not that simple, that would be a very long list, Sire. I can think of maybe ten nobles who have never laid a hand on any of us, and one of them is Leon.”

Arthur goes pale and deflates, tears coming to his eyes as he whispers:

“Would... would I be on that list? I’ve thrown things at Merlin before but I didn’t... I never wanted to to hurt him, I never meant to be violent.”

Gwen steps forward and puts her hands on Arthur’s shoulders, giving him a soft smile as she says:

“Arthur, you throw pillows at Merlin when he calls you fat. You definitely wouldn’t be on the list. Merlin put Tristan with you because he knew that was the safest place for him to be whilst Dunstan was here.”

Arthur relaxes and nods slightly at her words, but still looks troubled. He looks up at her after a few moments:

“How long until lunch? Merlin will be with Dunstan until then.”

Gwen grimaces:

“Another half a candle-mark, Sire.”

Arthur huffs again, but begins walking towards the door purposefully, Gwen trailing after him worriedly:

“We’re going to pay him a surprise visit. I can hardly make an announcement, or accuse him with no proof, but if I catch him in the act...”

They both hurry down the corridor, Gwen rushing to catch up after the shut the door behind her. She can tell that Arthur feels guilty, but he was right in his assessment: the only way he could do anything about it is if he walked in on his manservant (and best friend and possibly love of his life) being beaten. And that’s not exactly something one wants to see.

They finally reach the hall that Lord Dunstan’s chambers were in, to see George approaching from the other end of the corridor. The servant’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of them, but he covers it quickly, moving to stand in front of Dunstan’s door, water pitcher clutched tightly in his hands. He bows at the King, and glances nervously at Gwen before saying:

“Is there anything I can help you with, My Lord?”

Arthur sees the way he’s stood in front of the door defensively, and whilst it frustrates him slightly that his servants think him incapable of protecting them, he understands. Apparently, this had been happening forever, and they all thought he knew and just didn’t care.

Gwen speaks up, quietly so they can’t be heard through the door, before The King can reply:

“It’s alright George, he’s here to help. How was Merlin last time you saw him?”

George goes a little pale, wincing slightly as he looks to Gwen at Arthur’s side:

“He was... alright. A few bruises, but nothing serious.-”

He tacks on a quick “-My Lord.” as he looks back to Arthur.

Arthur’s face goes red and he looks furious, Gwen has to tug his sleeve to stop him from shouting as he angrily whispers:

“A few bruises?? He’s only been here for half a candle mark!”

George gulps, and looks to Gwen for support. She pulls Arthur around to look at him, and the barely concealed devastation in her expression drains the anger from Arthur’s face:

“I told you, Dunstan is one of the worse-”

She gets interrupted by a muffled thump coming from the room behind George, and Arthur’s gaze whips to the door. George flinches slightly at the noise, biting his lip as he looks to the floor, as if trying to block the sound out. Gwen clamps a hand over he mouth, tears filling her eyes as they vaguely hear someone yelling in anger.

Arthur hesitates for only a moment in his shock, before pushing behind George and ripping the door open.

He stalks quickly into the room, Gwen and George on his heels as his gaze is immediately drawn to Dunstan drawing his fist back for the second blow.

Arthur is completely taken aback by the sight in front of him. Merlin was straightening up, recovering from the first hit, turning to look Lord Dunstan in the eyes with a blank expression. The Lord hadn’t noticed the other three enter the room, and Arthur has no time to yell before Merlin’s face is struck once again.

His head rocks to the side violently, and Arthur can see the spray of blood coming for the cut that Dunstan’s ring had left. Merlin takes a stumbled step back, but only looks to the side for a moment before taking a deep breath and, like before, returning to his original position with a blank look on his face.

Merlin notices Arthur, Gwen, and George over Dunstan’s shoulder, and his eyes go wide, but before he can say anything, or Gods forbid be hit again, Arthur speaks up.

His voice is low, and angry, but he just about manages to keep himself from attacking the Lord whilst his back is turned:

“What is the meaning of this?”

The Lord turns quickly, shaking his hand slightly to rid his knuckles of pain. Arthur has to resist the urge to launch himself at the man when he gives him a wide smile, as if he hadn’t a care in the world:

“Ah, King Arthur! I wasn’t expecting to see you until lunch. What can I help you with?”

Arthur’s jaw tenses as he glances quickly at Merlin’s bleeding cheek, before looking to Gwen and nodding in Merlin’s direction. Gwen takes the prompt with no hesitancy, moving quickly around the Lord to stand at Merlin’s side.

She tries to reach up to check his face, but Merlin gives her a short, reassuring smile before waving her off and fixing Arthur with a questioning stare.

Arthur ignores him, knowing that if he looks at him any longer he’ll fly in to a rage; choosing instead to direct a harsh gaze at Dunstan, who still has an innocent grin on his face:

“You can help, by explaining why on Gods Earth you thought it appropriate to lay hands upon a member of my staff.”

Dunstan looks a little confused, but doesn’t drop the smile entirely. He glances back at Merlin absent-mindedly before looking to The King once more:

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with-”

Arthur’s hands clench at his choice of words:

“-there was simply a mix up that required punishment.”

Arthur bristled, and took a menacing step towards the Lord, who at least had the decency to look a little self-conscious at the movement:

“No mistake that isn’t worth concerning myself with, warrants the physical beating of my employees. If you have any problems with the service, you are to bring it up to the Steward, or me directly. You are NOT to take it upon yourself to dole out punishment, am I understood?”

Arthur resists the urge to look at Merlin when he takes in a shocked breath, keeping his vicious gaze focused on Dunstan. The man sputters slightly, going red in the face as he rather indignantly retorts:

“Well, you’ve never had a problem with it before, Sire.”

Arthur takes a fortifying breath clenching his hands tighter as he grinds out:

“So you admit to physically abusing my staff?-”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns to Gwen:

“-Take Merlin to see the Court Physician,-”

He then looks to George behind him:

“-Inform the Kitchen, the Housekeeper, and the Steward, that Lord Dunstan will not being staying with us after all.”

Gwen takes Merlin by the arm, dragging him to the entrance despite his protests. George gives Arthur a brief bow, before rushing out the door behind them, leaving the furious King alone with the red-faced Lord.

Arthur turns back to look at him once again:

“I was, until recently, unaware of this ongoing problem. The people who work in this castle are under my protection, and they are not to be harmed under any circumstances. Until you can refrain from beating my staff, you are no longer welcome in my Kingdom. I want you out of the city by noon. I will be sending guards to help you find your way out.”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before he strides quickly out of the castle and down to the training grounds. He gestures Leon and Percival over, and the confused knights rush to his side, Leon asking what’s wrong.

Arthur tenses his jaw slightly before quietly saying:

“Have Elyan take over training. I want you and Percival to go and supervise Lord Dunstan pack his things, and make sure he makes it out of the city before noon. I want him gone.”

Leon widens his eyes slightly, but covers it quickly. Percival is not so quick, looking concerned as he asks.

“Is Merlin alright??”

Arthur sighs, a little upset that his most loyal knights were aware of the situation and he wasn’t, but he covers it well, looking to the floor briefly:

“It could’ve been a lot worse. Gwen took him to Gaius, I’m going there now.”

The two knights nod at his response, before rushing back to the other knights. Arthur doesn’t bother to hang around as Leon talks to Elyan, choosing instead to head straight in the direction of the Physician’s Chambers.

Servants, guards, and Nobles alike jump out of his way in the corridor. Whether news has spread of Lord Dunstan’s essential banishment, or the angry look on his face scared them, Arthur didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, he payed it no attention, focussing only on the quickest route to Gaius’s chambers.

He meets George at the door, and the normally uptight servant gives him only a shallow bow before shakily saying:

“The kitchen and heads of staff have been informed, My Lord-”

He glances nervously to the door, before looking back to The King and continuing:

“-Is there anything else you require?”

Arthur immediately picks up on George’s desire to see if Merlin was alright, and shakes his head:

“Come in and help Gaius with anything he requires. After, I’d like you to find Tristan and see if he’s alright, he seemed a little shaken earlier.”

George nods very slightly, grateful, understanding that The King had just given him an excuse to check on Merlin before he had to continue with other jobs.

Arthur gives him a strained smile before entering the chambers without knocking, George hot on his heels. The servant shuts the door behind them, and they see Merlin sat on the table looking put out, whilst Gwen insists on holding his hand and Gaius bustles around.

The three of them look over when the door is opened, Gaius giving them barely a glance before going back to flitting about, Gwen giving them a small smile before looking back to Merlin, and Merlin nodding briefly at George before settling yet another questioning gaze on The King.

George stays in place by the door, his concern well-hidden as he stares at Merlin. Arthur takes a few more steps towards his confused manservant, clearing his throat before saying:

“Lord Dunstan will be gone by noon. I told him not to come back until he could refrain from hitting my staff.”

Gwen gives him a grateful smile, and Arthur hears George let out a relieved breath from behind him, but Merlin just tilts his head in confusion:

“I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss. I’ve definitely had worse, he doesn’t even hit that hard.”

Gwen groans and gently smacks him on the arm, muttering:

“That’s not the point, Merlin.”

George huffs quietly, before saying, louder than Gwen:

“Guinevere is right Merlin. Gaius, do you require any assistance?”

At Gaius’s casual wave of denial, George turns to Arthur, giving him his normal deep bow before glancing at Merlin once more as he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Arthur was taken aback at Merlin’s casual reply, and when Gwen notices the pained shock on his face, she pats Merlin’s hand softly before whispering:

“It’s not ok, Merlin. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Merlin gives her an incredulous look, but before he can retort, she’s gone from the room. That woman can move quickly when she wants to, but Arthur hardly notices as he continues to stare at the cut on Merlin’s cheek.

Gaius finally finds what he’s looking for and rushes over to Merlin, tilting his head so he can look at the cut properly, and cleaning it with a strong smelling alcohol as the younger man winces.

Gaius speaks slowly as he works, and Arthur moves closer, to stand next to him:

“Hmm. You’re lucky you didn’t fracture your cheekbone. There’s no concussion either, just make sure to keep this clean, my boy.”

Merlin goes to nod, but stops with a smile and roll of the eyes as Gaius huffs at the movement.

Arthur waits patiently, but gives Gaius a pointed look when he finishes. The aging physician gives him the patented eyebrow raise, before leaving the room without a word. Merlin ignores Arthur, watching Gaius walk out with a frown on his face and a muttered:

“Where’s he going?”

Arthur shakes his head, putting a forceful hand on Merlin’s shoulder when he goes to stand up. The manservant flinches away and Arthur retracts his hand quickly, as if he’d been burned.

Gods. That had happened in front of Arthur. He’d seen it, and shrugged it off, like Merlin’s pain was nothing. No wonder none of his staff came to him.

Merlin gets the idea nonetheless, and stays seated, furrowing his eyebrows:

“Why’d you make Dunstan leave? It’s only me he’s hit, people have done way worse.”

Arthur takes in a harsh breath, planting his feet to stop himself from pacing as he shakes his head:

“I didn’t know, Merlin. Gods, if I’d known that my staff were getting beaten I would’ve done something earlier.-”

He looks up, and Merlin is slightly taken aback by the desperation in his eyes:

“-I swear, I had no idea.”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, talking slowly, as if to a child:

“But you... accepted all my excuses? I thought that was our way of acknowledging that it was happening and that we couldn’t do anything about it?”

Arthur exhales forcefully, but fails to stop himself from pacing this time. Merlin’s eyes follow him up and down the room as he speaks quickly:

“No! I really just thought you were that clumsy! Gods above Merlin, why didn’t you just tell me? The staff are under my protection, you should NOT have to volunteer to take violent masters just to protect the younger ones. No one should! There should be no violent masters in the first place!”

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes as he replies:

“I’ve had worse, Arthur. And besides, this has always happened, it’s the way of things. The rich and noble get to do whatever they want to the... not-so rich and noble.”

Arthur turns to him in shock, upset that Merlin seems to have no problem with regularly being beaten for no reason:

“Merlin! That shouldn’t be the way of things.-”

Arthur takes a step towards him, and puts a hand on his (uninjured) shoulder. Merlin’s eyes soften at the touch, and The King takes a deep breath before continuing:

“-And it stops now. If anyone, and I mean anyone, is violent or needlessly aggressive with the staff, I want to be informed immediately, no matter what. Even if you have to walk out on your duties or interrupt a meeting, I don’t care.”

Merlin shakes his head, laughing slightly, much to Arthur’s confusion:

“I don’t see what the big deal is?! No one but me gets hurt anyway, and it’s not like telling you will make them stop. I’m perfectly capable of filling in for the others, I have a high pain tolerance-”

He nudges the cut on his cheek slightly with a finger:

“-I can’t even feel it, see?”

Arthur growls slightly, slapping away Merlin’s hand before roughly saying:

“It is a big deal Merlin. You shouldn’t have to fill in for the others, because they shouldn’t need protecting from their own masters in the first place!-”

The anger drains out of Arthur suddenly and he sags, before looking up to Merlin with unconcealed sorrow on his face, and continuing in a shaky voice:

“-Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should have to. I’m not questioning your strength or stupid pain tolerance here Merlin, I’m trying to help. Frankly, I don’t want to trust the safety and well-being of my subjects to men who beat them just because they can anyway. Will you please just accept that I don’t like seeing you, or any of my other staff, in pain, and do what I ask for once?”

Merlin tilts his head, as if still struggling with the idea that this shouldn’t be happening, but at Arthur’s pleading eyes, he sighs and nods, before speaking quietly:

“Alright, fine. But if you put me in the stocks for accusing one of your Nobles of being an arsehole in front of the council, then I’m going to be pissed-”

Arthur shakes his head roughly, responding with conviction:

“I wouldn’t.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow in amusement, before shrugging his shoulders slightly. His eyes harden, and he takes a deep breath before saying, in a voice that invites no argument:

“But I won’t ever stop protecting the others. I’ll always volunteer to serve the aggressive ones, and if you try to stop me, I’ll do that thing you hate where I completely disobey your orders.”

Arthur lets out a gentle laugh, shaking his head slightly:

“I wouldn’t expect you to anyway.-”

The King looks back up at his manservant, an assessing look in his eye as he says:

“-It seems that you’re quite... paternal, when it comes to the younger servants; protecting them from violence to your own detriment,-”

He raises his eyebrow slightly as he continues:

“-teaching them to read and write?”

Merlin blushes slightly and looks down, mumbling:

“I was lucky in Ealdor, my mum taught me the basics; I wasn’t very good, but Gaius helped me when I got to Camelot.-”

He shrugs slightly before continuing, still refusing to look up at the man in front of him:

“-I just think everyone deserves a chance, so I teach them when I’ve got time.-”

He does look up now, smirking slightly as he says:

“-a good thing I learnt as well, otherwise who would proof read and improve your God awful speeches?”

Arthur looks indignant and offended for all of two seconds before he laughs and nods his head reluctantly:

“You have a point. You know, if you want some time in the week to give properly structured lessons, I could figure something out. I’m sure we can find an empty room in the castle for you to use, and the crown will pay for anything you need.”

Merlin brightens noticeably, a wide smile on his face as he rushes to say:

“Really?! That would be great, I know they really want to learn but it’s difficult when I only have an hour here and there, especially when they all have jobs to do as well.”

Arthur laughs gently as he nods his head, deciding that it’s a little ridiculous, how desperate he is to keep that smile on Merlin’s face for as long as possible:

“Of course. We can discuss it with the Steward, but how about... a morning one day, and an afternoon another day? You can split the group into two, that means the castle isn’t missing too many staff at once.”

Merlin nods, not dropping the enthusiastic smile once, and Arthur chuckles fondly.

Yes, Arthur thinks, yes, that smile, for as long as possible.

~

THE END!

Maybe it’s a tad anti-climactic, but some fluff is just like that I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Same as always, if you wanna write it out properly, go for it! Credit and tag me ✌

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular:)

[animeomegas]

Number nine for saiki kusuke please.

9 Territorial + Kuusuke Saiki 

Yours and Kuusuke’s relationship had one major point of contention: He wouldn’t let you meet his family.

In fact, despite talking about them to you fairly frequently, he admitted that they didn’t even know you existed.

And Kuusuke didn’t appear to be in any rush to tell them.

Well, until you got upset and decided to withhold affection from him.

There is nothing that riles Kuusuke up like being ignored, he’s also very clingy and he likes physical affection. So, let’s just say he isn’t very happy with this turn of events.

He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him, but eventually he caves and books two tickets back home from university to Japan.

He’s moody the whole journey, but he won’t tell you why.

He eventually perks up when you get to his parents’ house, but more in a fake way than anything else.

“Mother, it’s good to see you again,” Kuusuke said coolly, breezing into the house with no warning and leaving you to awkwardly follow behind him.

“Kuusuke!!” His mother squealed, running over to him. “You came all this way to visit us?” She teared up, gripping him by the shoulders.

She caught a glimpse of you over his shoulder and tilted her head.

“Oh? And who’s this?”

You took that as an invitation to introduce yourself seeing as Kuusuke clearly wasn’t going to do it.

“I’m courting your son, ma’am,” you said, trying your hardest to avoid letting your nerves slip through. She seemed awfully nice, but if she didn’t like you, it could be the end of your relationship with Kuusuke or the end of Kuusuke’s relationship with his family.

His mother simply blinked at you. An unpleasant feeling settled in your stomach at her lack of response. Did she not approve?

But then she promptly burst into tears.

Before you even had time to be surprised, she ran forward and grabbed you by the hands.

“Thank you so much for loving my son,” she wept. “I know he can be difficult, but it means so much for me that you look after him when I can’t.”

“Please, don’t cry,” you panicked, waving your hands back and forth. “I’m the lucky one to get to love someone as amazing as your son.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because the tears only got heavier. You had never seen an alpha parent react to their omega child bringing home a strange alpha like this. The stereotype was quite the opposite after all, you had expected an interrogation at the very least.

Kuusuke simply sighed and led his mother to the sofa and went to fetch her a tissue. This was not how you thought meeting his family would go, but this seemed to be a tentative good sign. She was crying from happiness, not mortal offence, so things could have definitely gone worse.

“Who are you?”

You jumped about half a foot in the air at the sudden voice from behind you. Turning around you were met with a pink-haired teenage boy clutching a school bag. You laughed in relief, holding your chest as you calmed down.

“Sorry, you frightened me,” you laughed. “You must be Kusuo, Kuusuke has told me a lot about you. I’m Kuusuke’s intended mate, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Kusuo’s eyebrows shot up at your claim. Was it really that unbelievable that Kuusuke would be in a serious relationship? It took him a moment to collect himself, but then Kusuo simply bowed at you and went to move past you.

“Wait,” you called out, halting him in his tracks. You desperately wanted to get to know his family and his mother still appeared to be incoherent, so Kusuo was your only chance. You racked your brains to think of something he would like. What did teenagers like?

“Do you enjoy video games?”

Kusuo blinks at you but clearly decides to indulge you with a single nod.

“That’s great!” you brightened, glad to have an in. “Have you played any good ones recently? There have been some major releases this month.”

Before Kusuo had a chance to respond, Kuusuke was suddenly back behind you, a hand clamped around your waist and his lips pressed into a thin line. You couldn’t smell him past the insane number of blockers he used, but you’d wager a guess that he would smell rather aggressive right now.

“Now, now, dearest, Kusuo probably has some homework to do upstairs, he’s still in high school after all,” Kuusuke spoke with a strange tinge to his words that you couldn’t place.

Kusuo clearly didn’t take offence, merely rolling his eyes and bowing to you once more before making his way upstairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Kuusuke started pressing kisses against your neck and face, using the grip he had around your waist to pull you tightly against him. You accepted a few of the kisses before you pushed him away, slilghtly frustrated at how he was treating you in front of his family.

“Am I not allowed to talk to your brother?” you questioned, crossing your arms. “Are you worried I’ll embarrass you or something? That’s low, Kuusuke, even for you.”

“What?” Kuusuke replied, appearing genuinely baffled by your reaction. “No, it’s just that… Kusuo is complicated.”

You searched his face for any hint of a lie and found none, but it didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t being entirely truthful with you. Unless he was… Your jaw dropped as you figured out his problem.

“You’re jealous of your brother, aren’t you?”

Kuusuke sputtered, denying the claim immediately.

“You are!” you laughed, a little hysterical. “Do you really think that I am suddenly going to fall in love with your teenage brother? Seriously, Kuu?”

Kuusuke had the decency to flush, but still denied the accusation.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he grumbled, looping his arms back around your waist.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you laughed. “I’m in love with you, Kuusuke, for as long as you’ll have me, and you should never forget that.”

You could feel his chest puff up with pride against you and hid your smile against his shoulder. Kuusuke really did thrive on genuine praise.

[nnightskiess]

𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

₊° - 𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

₊° - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: y/n isn't too keen on letting zoya go on her journey through the fold and arrives at the encampment late at night to ease her worries.

please do not copy, republish, translate or reproduce this imagine on wattpad or on other platforms. respect the author's work <3

when word got round in the little palace that a spot for a grisha healer in the second army opened up for the supply run through the fold, y/n wasted no time and offered to go. they had applauded her for her willingness and bravery, but all y/n could think about was seeing that one gorgeous sqauller again, who quite literally blew her away the moment they first met.

zoya nazyalensky's striking blue eyes had captivated y/n the moment they locked with hers and hadn't it been for the squaller looking away, y/n was sure she'd still be lost in them. y/n deemed zoya to be one of the prettiest girls in os olta and the little palace combined, but her beauty was not the only thing about her that had made y/n unable to get the girl out of her head.

zoya was a squaller, a grisha able to manipulate the wind and air, but zoya also possessed a big fire in her belly, one that was almost always quite present. it helped her to the top, but was also one of the qualities that had a tendency to make her intimidating or feared. y/n however, looked right through it and never stepped back whenever zoya would raise her voice or squint her eyes just long enough for other grisha to leave her alone. and exactly that had caught zoya's attention.

training was going terrible, the new squallers seemed to lack the confidence and passion that was needed for combat training. botkin had been so frustrated that he let some of the older grisha take the task and train them. y/n had watched from the sides as zoya visibly grew more annoyed at the youngsters and bit her lip when that same frustration finally caught up with her,

"enough! come back when you're worthy of wearing that kefta or don't show your face again!" she sent a large gush of air their way, making everyone's kefta's blow up in the wind before she turned around, letting out a quick breath through her nose.

y/n approached, a tiny smirk on her face. she'd waited to the sides to see how long it would take to crack the girl's patience. zoya wasn't a quitter, but her tough love seemed to worsen the children's performances even more.

zoya felt a presence behind her and turned around with a sneer as she sent another wave of wind behind her.

"i said-"

y/n was sent against the wall before she landed on the earth with a thud.

zoya tried to hide her initial surprise and gave the girl a once over, tilted her chin and crossed her arms, "what do you want?" she wasn't in the mood to apologize and kept her arms crossed, not even bothering to help the girl up.

y/n dusted her kefta off and tried to delay her reply, which she knew was frustrating zoya even more. y/n finally looked up, a cheeky smile on her face as she spoke,

"you could be sent away for that... we aren't allowed to use our powers here, did you forget?"

"look around- do you see anyone here?"

zoya was right- most boys and girls had silently left the training facility after zoya's outburst and botkin was probably downing a glass of kvas to drink away his frustrations of the day.

"because you scared them all away."

zoya put her nose up in disdain and turned back around- she didn't have time for this cocky know-it-all girl. she rolled her eyes as y/n followed her around the courtyard, getting slightly annoyed,

"i'm not sure if you have it in you, but maybe next time try and ease up on the tough love? be kind for a chance?"

"it's not what works best. do you think they'll be coddled when they're part of the second army? you healers are too sensitive. you should consider changing that or this world is going to eat you up."

"too sensitive?" y/n tried to hide the hurt in her voice and shook it off, "you don't know the injuries i've had to heal, the pain and gore i've seen. you should consider changing your mind on healers. without us, we'd be off way worse."

zoya had been annoyed at y/n's challenging rebuttal at first, but would later realise it wasn't out of lack of respect that y/n didn't seem to falter under her hard glares, it was because of the intrigue and adoration she held for her. if she backed down like all the others, she would never get a chance to break down zoya's walls.

eyerolls out of annoyance faded into playful eyerolls and zoya quickly realised that y/n would be one of those people her superiors had told her about all those years ago when she was first brought to the little palace. in order to not succumb to the stress of being a grisha, let alone one in the second army, one needs companions. companions you trust to have your back, companions to share your worries with and companions to help you see the light in difficult situations, even in the dark of the fold. and a loyal companion y/n became.

zoya was less hostile to the healer than she was to anyone else and people soon caught on. to not lose her air of intimidation, she tried to keep her soft smiles to a minimum and playfully pestered y/n whenever she could- even though no one but the two knew it was playful- only to get a joking sneer back in return, which never failed to crack the tiniest grin on the squaller's face.

"why do you look ready to leave?" y/n suddenly appeared in the doorway of zoya's suite. "planning to run away?" she joked but her worries grew as zoya didn't reply.

zoya didn't look up and instead continued to prepare her bag. y/n noticed that she was wearing the good luck charm she'd given the girl to wear whenever she had to go on a difficult or risky mission. a silent promise to both, if you will, to make sure whatever would happen would turn out alright. y/n's smile faltered,

"where are they sending you off to?"

"kribirsk, i'm going to help sail the skiff for a supply run to ketterdam."

"you're going through the fold?!" y/n took haste steps into the room and stopped right behind zoya, "why haven't i heard about this?! when are you supposed to cross it?!"

zoya let out a sigh and looked up, her hands placed on her hips, "stop it. i'll be fine," she went back to folding her clothes, "you know it's not my first time."

"no, but every time might as well be your last!"

y/n pulled at zoya's arm to make her stop, the squaller immediately glared at her. she hated when y/n became worried, it always intensified the worries she was already feeling herself, even if she would never tell anyone.

"i'll be fine, i promise."

"what happens there isn't really up to you... besides, i just don't like sitting here and waiting in agony for a word from you telling me you survived."

zoya finally gave in, she couldn't hold up her front any longer as she looked into y/n's worried eyes. she let out a deep sigh and rubbed her forehead before her hands dropped to her neck. she grabbed the talisman and held it up, "this'll protect me."

"zoya, it's not some-"

"no. it will. you said it would. i trust you. now, will you trust me? i'll be back before you know it." zoya softly stroked y/n's cheek with the back of her finger, something she did when the girl needed reassurance and comfort. "i'll come back, y/n."

the two women stared at each other for a long time, exchanging silent promises. but y/n's sudden movement caught zoya off guard, and before she could realise the girl had softly planted her lips against her own, y/n had already retreated.

"write to me."

zoya nodded absentmindedly, her head still stuck in the moment before.

"-and you better come back in one piece, nazyalensky."

zoya nodded again, this time less distracted, and she pulled y/n back when the girl made a move to walk out before planting a soft kiss on the girl's cheek.

"i will. or else you'll just have to patch me up again."

but zoya's nerves proved to be more difficult to contain now that y/n wasn't around, even if the girl had a tendency to sometimes make them worse with her worries. she knew she had promised to write, but what was she going to write down? how scared she really was? what would that do to calm y/n's nerves- both their nerves? not to mention that the confident squaller had felt insecure ever since their tiny kiss. was she supposed to write a different letter? was y/n expecting her to? or were they still just friends? or would it only upset y/n if she wrote to her like friends would?

so, zoya thought it was best to just not write at all, to spare both their feelings. but y/n, who had been waiting for a letter in the little palace, had gone mad after a few days. she hadn't received a letter noting zoya's arrival, neither had zoya written her one to tell her when the journey to west-ravka would take place. she felt awfully left in the dark, even if she knew the second army had arrived at the encampment through a general at the palace, she needed to hear it from zoya. or had she scared the squaller off? was the girl regretting their moment? had she lost zoya completely now, even as a friend? she needed to know.

the only worries she felt when the horses pulled the carriage over the roads to the encampment, were the worries about zoya, not about the voyage she was going to have to take through the darkness. after all, she'd have zoya by her side, who would undoubtedly try to protect her if needed, who could calm her down with just a look her way, just like how y/n would be there to heal and support if the situation asked for it.

y/n was assigned a tent with the other corporalki, but could care less about settling in for a good night's sleep. she needed to find zoya's tent first. she needed to see her at least once before setting foot on the ship the next morning.

the torches lit up the campsite and created eerie shadows on the surrounding tents, sometimes even forming into a shadow that looked way too similar to the volcra whose screams and cries filled the air now and then. y/n shook it off and walked along.

she finally heard zoya's familiar soft voice behind a tent's fabric to her left and a guy clad in the clothes of a tracker walked out a few seconds later. it slightly confused y/n, but she walked to the entrance of the now pitch black tent nonetheless.

"zoya?" she whispered out softly, still a bit unsure if she'd actually been right about hearing the girl's voice. what if this was someone else's tent?

"anyone here?" she called again, her eyes now slightly adjusting to the lack of light. a shadow moved to her left before she fell to her knees as all the air in her lungs disappeared. someone had her in a headlock.

"zoya! it's me! it's me, y/n!" she coughed and heaved, clawing at her throat for air. she heard the squaller gasp as fresh air filled her lungs once again. a candle was lit a second after, which barely illuminated the tent, but enough for zoya to see her friend on the floor.

"what are you doing here?!" she hissed, her panic replaced by anger almost instantly, anger that stemmed out of worry for the girl. y/n being there could only mean one thing...

"i had to see you." y/n accepted the help of zoya and was put to sit on the girl's bed. "you promised you'd write... why didn't you?"

zoya ignored the question and fired a question of her own the healer's way, "why are you here? i doubt they let you go without a reason."

y/n refused to make eye contact, but zoya refused to give in and forcefully grabbed the girl's chin. y/n expected to see the squaller's eyebrows knitted together in anger or worry, or both, and a sneer on her face, but was instead met with a look she couldn't quite place, one she barely ever saw. if y/n wanted an answer, she would have to answer zoya first.

"they needed a healer."

"on the supply run?"

y/n nodded meekly but kept looking at zoya's features, trying to decipher what she was thinking.

"y/n, you shouldn't have... not after-"

"i know. i know i had to watch my friends get torn apart last time, while i sat there and couldn't help all of them at once, i know- but zoya- if something were to happen to you and i wouldn't be able to at least try and help you out, i would never be able to let it go."

zoya's grasp on y/n's chin loosened until she finally let go and dropped her hands on her lap. but they didn't feel right there so she immediately grabbed onto one of y/n's, giving it a light squeeze.

"you didn't write to me. that usually means you're either worried and don't want to worry me or... well... after, you know... i thought you might've..."

zoya squeezed again, telling the girl she didn't need to talk further, she knew exactly what she meant.

"i know something has shifted between us, but i don't regret it. that wasn't why i didn't write...well, it was." she continued when y/n rose an eyebrow in confusion, "i was afraid you might've regretted it."

"no, i-"

"it doesn't matter, you shouldn't have come." zoya's walls were back up again in a snap of her fingers and she let go and sat up, immediately shielding herself from whatever rejection about to come her way.

"zoya-"

"it's probably best if we both get some rest."

y/n looked to see if zoya was slightly joking but pursed her lips together when she saw the girl's blank face.

"fine." the healer jumped up and stormed out of the tent, throwing the entrance drape shut so harshly that the tiny candle went out, which left zoya by herself in the dark of the night. at least it would let her get used to the dark that was waiting for her on the end of the encampment.

y/n buttoned and unbuttoned her crimson kefta multiple times, a nervous habit of hers, but kept them buttoned when the horn indicated it was time to go. had it been worth it? offering to cross the fold just to talk to zoya? only for her to get the cold shoulder? no. but at least now she was able to protect the girl.

she walked onto the sandskiff along with other grisha and, this time, cartographers, and immediately locked eyes with zoya, who was already stationed at the front. zoya looked regal, standing there, with her chin held high and her hands behind her back, almost as if she owned the sandskiff. to others, she might've looked cocky, but not to y/n.

zoya's eyes inspected everyone who walked onto the ship and thus also landed on y/n's. but, while she'd lightly glared at everyone, her glare softened when she looked at her friend. she dipped her head in acknowledgement. what y/n didn't know, was that while zoya had tried her best to pretend that y/n wouldn't be going on the supply run, seeing her step onto the skiff had broken that fairytale thought and had made her slightly break out an uneasy sweat. y/n's talisman was hidden under her kefta, but zoya could still feel it pressing against her chest. it calmed her down a little, but not enough, certainly not when the ship started moving and y/n was not on the docks staying behind.

screeches and yells of those terrible beasts were the first things to welcome them into the fold before the clear morning sky finally turned black and the air turned cold. the volcra sounded distant though, so as long as they kept quiet and in the dark, there wouldn't be a reason to panic.

zoya glanced y/n's way every now and then. even if there still wasn't trouble in the air, she just needed to reassure herself that the girl was okay. same for y/n- she kept glancing to the front of the skiff to see zoya's eyes illuminate in the blue of the tiny lantern. zoya's eyes never failed to calm her down, but looking into them now brought her even greater comfort. or discomfort...if she thought long enough about what happened last time she crossed the fold.

the wind howled, the wooden skiff creaked and thunder filled the sky. the occasional lightning lit up their surroundings and showed the shipwrecks from previous supply runs, a great reminder to everyone on board that they should count themselves lucky if they survived this crossing.

"marker one...."

"how many more are there?" a cartographer girl dared to ask and y/n closed her eyes, knowing the answer wouldn't satisfy her.

"thirty-seven."

y/n's hands clasped around the sleeves of her kefta as she hugged herself. only twelve more markers and she'd reach the place where it all happened last time.

barely one marker later and the growling and screeching sounds of the approaching volcra made everyone tense up. one volcra made a close appearance, which made everyone either duck or ready their guns. it was eerily silent after that. y/n tried not to look at the frightened faces of everyone else and instead tried to count, but that proved to make her even more nervous after another volcra screeched nearby- they weren't going fast enough.

zoya felt suffocated when the blue lantern, which was meant to be their little safe haven during their crossing, dimmed. however, the real panic set in when it became pitch black and she lost all sight of y/n. the deck suddenly lit up by the orange hue of a lantern one cartographer boy had set alight in panic, which illuminated y/n's pretty face with an orange tint, but zoya was anything but relieved. this wasn't a good thing. at all.

"blow it out! what are you doing?!"

all hell broke loose when the lantern attracted volcra, who were now surrounding the sandskiff, flying over it to wait for the perfect opportunity to catch their prey. if that wasn't bad enough, the lantern had fallen over and a small fire was starting to eat away at the wooden deck, making it even harder for everyone on board to hide. people were being picked up by the creatures and all y/n seemed to be able to do was freeze. last time she'd been running from left to right to try and help aid the people on board, but even when she had prepared herself for this outcome this time, no muscle in her body seemed to want to move. she didn't know what hurt her ears more- the gunshots, the screeching of those terrible monsters or the agonizing yells from the people on deck. one thing stood out through those yells- a pained yelp coming from no other than zoya made her head shoot up to where she thought she'd heard it.

zoya had watched y/n tense up from her side of the ship and was well aware that past memories were probably troubling her mind, making her unable to get to work. all worries or insecurities were thrown out the window once she realised she needed to keep y/n safe. a volcra had dived to pick her up right as she made a move to run to the healer, but a shove from one of the other grisha had saved her life. her shoulder broke the fall and one of her hands met the flames, making her cry out in pain.

this did the trick and burst the healer's bubble. y/n crawled across the deck, trying to stay as low as possible, and gritted her teeth whenever she came too close to the fire and the heat became painful. zoya noticed her approach and tried to move closer too, only to grasp her shoulder in pain.

"ssssh, i'm here, i'm here, let me-" y/n stammered in a panic as she looked at the damage. she gently stroke her fingers over zoya's burns first. zoya threw her head back at the initial pain and incredibly annoying itch that followed, but let out a shaky chuckle out of relief when the pain subdued before eventually fading away.

they weren't out of danger yet and the volcra hovering above them proved exactly why. zoya's eyes widened as she watched it approach over y/n's shoulder and she pulled the girl on top of her in a tight embrace. the movement made her grit her teeth in pain, her shoulder still hurt like hell, but at least the volcra had missed this chance. she saw it circle around, waiting to pounce once more. she reached for the gun beside her when it turned around, ready for another try. but zoya didn't give it one and directed a shot at its chest, which caught the beast off guard and gave the perfect opportunity to one of the escorts on the ship to finish him off with another shot.

"are you alri-"

"go! get inside!" zoya gently pushed the girl off of her again.

"you're hurt, let me-"

"i need to help send this skiff back. go!"

"it'll only be-"

"we don't have time! i can handle a broken shoulder but i will never forgive myself if something happened to you!" zoya yelled back over the chaos and was supported by another squaller who pulled her to the other side of the deck. y/n sat there, baffled. a harsh force of wind made y/n's hair blow up and the ship started to move again. a young man, one of their escorts, ran up to her, pulled her on her feet and guided her inside.

there she sat, waiting, while a mix of screams, screeches, thunder and gunshots made for a horrifying mix of sounds, while she couldn't do a thing, while zoya was bait up there...

a light so bright beamed through the cracks and holes of the wood and even from her cover, y/n had to shield her eyes.

silence. complete, utter silence. no more volcra, no more shouting or gunshots needed. the wind that the squallers created to send them back home was a comforting sound to y/n's ears and it was all she wanted to focus on as she knew they were going back.

the darkness soon turned to light again. the sky had changed back and was filled with puffy clouds as the air grew more pleasant to inhale. they were back, they were safe. but still, y/n kept seated, not wanting to go out and see the damage. not again.

yes, the sandskiff had returned home, which meant that squallers had sent it back, but zoya had been out there for a while even before the light. going out there meant there was a possibility she was going to receive the news that zoya hadn't made it.

"i need a healer here! quick!"

y/n wiped her teary eyes that were still burning from the smoke, pushed the stray hairs out of her face and stood up. she was not going to let people suffer just because she was afraid of facing her fears. she let herself fall onto her knees next to a cartographer girl whose leg still sizzled from a terrible burn. she seemed pretty out of it- her head lulled as a cold sweat coated her face.

"hey, you're going to be alright. i'm y/n, i'm a healer." she tried to reassure her, even if she was unsure if the girl could even hear her at this point, "i'm going to have to touch it, but it's going to get better after that. i promise. try to sit as still as you can so it won't scar." she went to work and saw the girl's eyes flutter open. "see?" the girl nodded and sent a tired smile her way. that was enough of a thank you for y/n and she immediately stood up to try and see where she was needed next.

zoya had climbed her way down as soon as she could and panic filled her when she couldn't find y/n anywhere. this was where she'd seen the boy take her to?! but as she walked back, she saw the girl tending to a wounded man and a sigh of relief left her mouth. she watched y/n stand up,

"can you tend to my shoulder next?"

y/n's head whipped around at the familiar voice, and even if it sounded hoarse and tired, she could still hear a playful undertone.

"thank the saints! you're alright!" y/n went in for a hug but reminded herself of zoya's injured shoulder and squeezed the girl's hand instead.

"who else sent us back?" zoya smiled tiredly and let y/n pull her out off the chaos on the ship to be sat down on the docks. the healer helped her out of her kefta and zoya noticed y/n was trying to suppress a meek smile at the sight of the talisman that clung around zoya's neck.

zoya closed her eyes as y/n's soft hands made contact with her bare shoulder and she only dared to open them again once the pain was replaced by the familiar feeling of a healing itch. she grabbed the healer's hand and intertwined their fingers.

"are you still hurting?"

zoya let out a breathy chuckle and shook her head, "no, i believe i'm fine now. just a bit shaken."

y/n nodded and stared off into the distance, she knew exactly what zoya meant. a soft tug on her hand made her look back at the blue eyed girl.

"i'm sorry."

"zoya nazyalensky saying sorry? that's a first."

"hush you, i'm serious. don't make me regret this." zoya rolled her eyes, glad to have this y/n back. for a second, back in the fold, when she saw y/n so tensed up as she was reliving her trauma, zoya was afraid she might never get her back, if they were to even get out of the fold alive. but here she was, holding the girl's hand and staring into her eyes. she was here. with her.

"it was wrong of me to downplay your worries when i knew where they stemmed from. you've had to go through that, see that happen... and it was only fair of you to fear my departure. i should've written to you and-"

"zoya, it's quite-"

"let me finish." a light squeeze in her hand and a somewhat serious glare from zoya made y/n shut up, "i also shouldn't have treated you like i did last night. but can you try to imagine the worry i felt when i realised you were going to do the crossing? if something happened to you, that would've been because of me. you were on that ship because i was there, because i didn't write back."

"i would've taken the offer even if you had written to me, to be quite honest..."

zoya rolled her eyes, "of course you would've."

"zoya, when will you understand that i'll always try to have your back?

"but why must you put yourself in harm's way to do so?"

"because that's just how it goes!" y/n squeezed zoya's hand this time, trying to get her message across. "we're companions remember?"

zoya smiled softly and put a strand of hair behind y/n's ear before she wiped away the dirt on the girl's temple. her fingers then travelled down the girl's cheek and jaw before resting there, "i think we're more than companions, don't you think?" her striking blue eyes then looked directly into y/n's, immediately captivating the girl like she was some siren trying to lure her into the pools of her eyes.

"are we?" y/n's voice was small.

"have you forgotten about kissing me already? should you need a reminder?"

"no- i haven't, i remember!" her cheeks turned scarlet as zoya tilted her head in a playful manner. oh gods, how stupid could she be. "i mean, i don't. a reminder would be nice?" the meekness of y/n's voice warmed zoya up and she stroked the girl's bottom lip with the pad of her thumb,

"you sure?"

y/n nodded, but that wasn't what would satisfy zoya.

"talk. use your voice."

"yes, i'm sure."

zoya lifted her chin and looked at her in a way only she could, but it wasn't disrespectful at all. she looked at y/n as if she was the only girl in the world, but even if she wasn't, she'd still pick her. she'd pick her as a friend, a companion, or whatever they were going to be next.

[gladerscake]

Since Always - Part II

(Gally x Reader)

Part I

I didn’t wanna keep you guys waiting too long, so here it is! Warning: Unobstructed Fluff Ahead. Proceed at your own risk.

“Hey, Newt!”

The lanky boy turned to the sound of Gally’s voice behind him, arching a brow at his quickly approaching form. “Yeah?”

The builder propped his hands on his hips, a ghost of a sneer curving his mouth; he seemed evidently bothered by something, which didn’t escape Newt’s notice.

“Have you seen Y/N? I need to talk to her.”

“Do you? ‘Bout what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Gally huffed, focusing his pointed stare on the Second-in-Command “A little birdie named Zart told me you two were talking earlier. He heard my name. What’s up?”

Newt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, resorting to a tight-lipped grin. Zart. Of course. The track-hoe was notoriously bad at keeping his mouth shut.

“Oh! It was nothing, really. She was just, uh... telling me about the Med-Hut expansion you’ve been working on.” He attempted to lie, but the brief pause, coupled with the way his brown eyes seemed to look everywhere but at him, was a dead giveaway.

“Well, that’s a load of crap.” Gally scoffed, crossing his buff arms, his expression bouncing between annoyance and concern. “Seriously, what’d she say? Did I do something? Is it bad?”

Newt had to physically restrain himself from laughing. Witnessing how easy it was to get Gally all fidgety and weird at the mere thought of you saying something bad about him, was enough of a confirmation for what Newt already knew.

“No, absolutely not. You can relax, mate, it’s nothing bad.” He couldn’t suppress the secretive smirk that curved his mouth as the words left it “It’s actually quite the opposite.”

Gally’s uniquely-shaped brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at his friend. The opposite? What the hell did that mean? He was relieved to hear that you weren’t upset or mad at him, but whatever Newt was trying to say - it wasn’t making any sense.

“What are you talking about? What’s “the opposite”? Come one, Newt, can’t you just say it?” He gruffed, his broad shoulders tensing with impatience.

Unfortunately, Gally was all out of luck, as Newt had no intention of saying anything else. As much as he wanted to give Gally a hint and maybe hurry along the process of you two getting together, he felt it wasn’t his place. He couldn’t just flat-out tell him that you had feelings for him and betray your trust like that. That’s not what friends do.

“Hey, I’ve already said plenty. Alright? More than enough.” He grabbed his rake, silently excusing himself from further conversation and beginning to walk away, watching the puzzlement only grow on Gally’s face “You can’t be that dense, Gally. I don’t believe it. Just... go talk to her, yeah?”

Gally blinked in further confusion as Newt walked away, shaking his head and trying earnestly to gather his thoughts. What in the actual hell was he on about? He couldn’t think of an answer, but he wanted one, and he wanted one, now.

He couldn’t bear the thought of something not being right between the two of you. Truth was, over the time of you being there, you have grown to be the one person Gally cared about the most in the glade. From the moment he had helped you out of that box, almost a year ago, he’s felt an inexplicable need to be near you. To help you with anything you needed help with, to protect you, to make sure you were comfortable and that you never felt like you didn’t belong there. He wanted you to feel happy, or at least content, because he felt like you deserved nothing less. He wanted you to trust him, to know that you could lean on him, and he was immensely glad that you two were as close as you were, now.

Surely enough, throughout your shared journey of getting closer, it wasn’t long before Gally found himself having... feelings. Feelings he hadn’t ever imagined he could have, feelings he didn’t know he was even capable of. Deep down, he knew what they were, but didn’t know how to admit it. Despite how great you and him got on, he was convinced it was strictly platonic on your part. He couldn’t find it in himself to think you’d be interested in him in any way that was beyond that. With all the shanks to choose from, why would you go for him? No, it was impossible. He’d be better off swallowing his feelings and keeping his mouth shut. At least that way he wouldn’t risk shucking up the friendship you two had. Just the thought of you wanting to distance yourself from him sent a wave of dread throughout his strong body.

Yet... Newt’s confusing words and weird behaviour rang in his mind again, and as he slowly put the pieces together, he began to feel a foreign spark of... hope? Was there a chance that Newt had meant what he thought he had meant? He was struggling to believe it, but shuck, how he wanted it to be true...

Gally tried to ignore the way his heartbeat was starting to accelerate as he turned on his feet in determination, already on his way to find you.

Unaware of the builder searching for you, you were just about to head out of the Deadheads, where you had spent the last half hour mulling over what to do about your feelings for Gally.

Your earlier conversation with Newt had stirred a nagging feeling of hollowness in your heart, making you contemplate your course of action (or lack thereof).

Were you getting tired of having to watch him, longingly, from afar, without doing anything about it? Absolutely you were. Did the mere thought of Gally possibly returning your feelings fill your being with ecstatic jitters? Oh, most definitely. But were you ready to finally try and shoot your shot and risk him turning you down, making you sorely regret it? You didn’t know...

If only he had given you the slightest of hints of how he truly felt about you, it would have been easier. But even though you and Gally were close, you often found it awfully challenging to see what was on his mind. You knew him well enough to figure that if he were to have any feelings he’d rather not address, he would be very skilled at hiding it.

God, why did everything have to be so difficult, couldn’t you just-

“Y/N!”

You yelped, the sudden sound of Gally’s booming voice making you jump, eyes bulging in a brief moment of panic.

Gally delivered you a small apologetic grin, putting his palms up in a calming gesture “It’s okay! Just me. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you...”

You exhaled with relief, trying to calm your racing heart... though, with Gally standing right there in front of you, after you had just spent quite a while thinking about him, made it that much more difficult.

“Shuck... Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You chuckled, nervously, suppressing the antsy feeling within you as he slowly approached.

“I wasn’t! I was just... looking for you.”

He was? You’d had no idea. Were you supposed to meet him for lunch or something? No, you definitely wouldn’t have forgotten about that.

“Really? Why, what’s up?” You blinked, looking up at him expectantly, your slightly widened crystal-clear eyes reminding him of just how adorable he found you sometimes.

Gally’s jaw clenched, involuntarily, as he tried to visualize how he was supposed to ask you this. As much as he didn’t want it to come out so out of the blue, he couldn’t find a way to ease into it that would be any type of smooth or natural. So, with a deep intake of air, he decided to just go ahead and spit it out.

“You and Newt were talking about me earlier.”

Your heart dropped. It wasn’t a question, and you knew it, immediately beginning to feel your fingertips turning cold with impending dread. How did he know? How much did he know? Did Newt tell him something he wasn’t supposed to? You hoped he didn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t know how you were going to forgive him for spilling your deepest secret like that.

Gally’s piercing gaze bore into you with a seriousness that made your pulse quicken in a blink of an eye.

“We, uh... It was nothing, really.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Gally insisted with as much gentleness as he could muster. However, his tensing muscles and furrowed brows gave you a clue of how agitated he felt. “I asked him, because I thought maybe I had done something, but then he said it wasn’t anything bad. Which would have been fine, if he hadn’t been so shuckin’ weird about it.” He huffed, softly, still not taking his gaze off of you as you bit your bottom lip in worriment.

“Weird, how...?” You inquired in a small voice, the fragile sound of it shooting more confusion though Gally.

“Just weird! Hell if I know what he was trying to get across, but... whatever it is, I think we should talk about it, Y/N.”

It became clear to you that there was no dodging it now. Gally already knew you had something on your mind, something concerning him, and he wasn’t about to just let it go.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip harder as you found yourself rendered incapable of moving, Gally’s much taller form towering over you and wanting answers. Was this it? Your chance to tell him how you felt? If so, then the next few minutes were about to be either the best of your life, or the worst.

With Gally’s attention already peaked, the way your expression was suddenly overtaken with fear didn’t get lost on him, neither did the slight tremble of your fingers. Concern encompassed him as he immediately took a big step forward, fighting the powerful urge to cup your face in between his large, rough palms.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why do you look so scared? Come on, Y/N, it’s me! You can tell me, whatever it is.”

Oh, fine! You figured this was bound to happen sooner or later, and now that Gally was so directly asking you, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him. No matter how frightening this was, he didn’t deserve to be lied to, especially not by you, the person he trusted and truly cared about.

Overlooking the way your heart hammered in your chest, you drew in a short breath before muttering the words that had been swallowed and shoved away for months “Ihavefeelingsforyou...”

“What?” Gally frowned, shaking his head as he’d heard none of it. “Y/N, you’re gonna have to speak up.”

“Ihavefeelingsforyou” You repeated, neither louder, nor clearer than before, causing Gally’s frustration to swelter as he all but sneered.

“Y/N, I can’t hear you! Can you please-”

“I have feelings for you!” You almost shouted, the words finally leaving your mouth with no means of taking them back.

Gally froze, his mouth dropping open as he stared at you in stupefied bewilderment. He felt like he’d just got the wind knocked out of him, his breath caught in his throat.

“Y-You... You what?”

Unable to take his fervent stare on you any longer, you squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to just curl into yourself “You heard me, please don’t make me say it again...” You uttered, quietly, your heartbeat already thumping in your ears.

Gally couldn’t believe it. He’d heard you, but there was no way it was real... Newt’s odd behavior earlier made much more sense now, yet, his mind was having an impossible time wrapping around it. You had feelings... for him? You didn’t just see him as a friend or, even worse, a brother? He had been convinced that those were the only two options he’d have to accept and live with, but now, with your pretenseless proclamation, he felt as though an electric current had passed through his system.

“W-What.. You...” He stammered, trying to blink back the shock in his eyes “S-Since when...?”

A short wistful scoff escaped your mouth as you opened your eyes, but still kept them on the ground beneath your feet, unable to meet his astounded gaze.

“Since always, really... Since the first few weeks of me being here, since the day you first invited me to hang out with you at lunch...” You couldn’t help the blush that bloomed upon your cheeks as the warm memories you had of him flashed through your mind “Since you started letting me fall asleep on you at Bonfires, since you built me my very own hut, because you knew sleeping in a hammock was making my back hurt...” A timid but loving smile formed on your slightly quivering lips as Gally took in every word, his own heart threatening to beat out of his chest by that point.

“Y/N... I-I had no idea, I thought-“

“You don’t have to say anything!” You tried to assure him, ignoring the strain in your voice “Really, I understand if you don’t feel the same way... But you asked, and I just couldn’t keep it in anymore, it’s been so long-“ You trailed off, suddenly, as Gally stepped even closer to you before you even had a chance to register it. You voice died in your throat the second you felt his rough, calloused, but warm palms cupping your face. A flash of courage in his eyes, a dazed gasp from you, and then, his head dipped, his lips descending on yours.

Your form went rigid as you endeavored to process what was happening, but the abrupt and new feeling of Gally kissing you wasted no time overtaking each one of your senses, making your heart flip and shrouding you in a thick fog of pure bliss. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back, your lips moving flawlessly and wantingly against his, as your arms reached up to wind themselves around him, your fingers momentarily tracing the back of his neck. Gally grunted into the kiss, his hands smoothly lowering to your waist and pulling your closer, nearly knocking you into his firm chest. He had imagined this moment a surplus of times before, but not one of his fantasies came close to how amazing this truly felt, how warm and soft your lips were, how impossible it was to pull away. He swallowed the content little moan that escaped you, his large hands squeezing your waist tighter as you quivered at the raw magnetism and surging affection that pulled you two into each other.

Despite your heart’s frantic protests, you slowly drew back, breaking away from the sweet taste of his lips, your own practically tingling from the fervent and long-overdue kiss.

Gally leaned his forehead against yours, eyes remaining closed for the moment of you both catching your breath, still holding onto each other.

This was paradise, there was no way that it wasn’t. As if by a miracle, all the worries you’d previously had about Gally rejecting you fluttered away, leaving nothing but consuming joy and yearning for more of him in their wake.

Gally opened his eyes first - you did the same a mere second later, meeting his gleaming bluish-green gaze. He thought you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist as you beamed at him, starry-eyed and enamored.

“I-I take it, this means you feel the same way...?” You whispered, still barely a few inches apart, feeling an imminent thrill rush through your body at the enticing feeling of Gally’s fingers tenderly tracing your spine.

His warm breath washed over your lips as he chuckled, a captivating grin pulling at the corners of his mouth “As if I ever had a chance not to...”

Your smile grew brighter at his breathy statement, all the ardent feelings you had for the tough builder engulfing you and chasing away every thought that wasn’t about him.

Gally still didn’t know what made you choose him, want him, of all people, but whatever it was, he’ll take it, happily. If it meant he could have you in his arms, just like this, every day from now on, he wouldn’t dream of questioning it.

He leaned in once more, kissing the tip of your nose with a gentleness you couldn’t fathom he possessed, his grip on you tightening.

His lips then brushed against yours, and you shivered, your heart leaping at the doting whisper that trailed from him “You’re mine, Y/N...”

Gally kissed you again, softly, meaningfully, his hold on you feeling like the only thing keeping you on the ground “And I’m yours.”

Thank you for reading!

[rivalry-trope-enjoyer]

Kaeya x GN! reader: Fake Dating AU

*Started a new series of the Genshin Impact boys as different romance tropes in one-shot form, starting with Kaeya! The list will go on soon and I plan for Diluc to be next. Disclaimer: May be a little bit OOC since this is my first time writing Kaeya. 

The Kaeya as far as you had known has always been a sweet talker that wooed all the people of Mondstadt with a mysterious and alluring charm. You, too, had fallen victim to his hand. 

Unfortunately, being a traveler with no permanent place to stay in all of Teyvat, it was customary to take someone like Kaeya with you on such adventures. You didn’t hate his company; he always loved to crack jokes even if it came with a flirtatious anecdote at the end. He had even already established sweet nicknames for you and even went as far as playfully calling you “sweetheart” or “dove” from time to time. 

Spending time with him casually already seemed like a nightmare for your poor heart, and commissions and tasks were the exact same story. 

This time around you were sent on an errand to take care of some Fatui agents with Kaeya around Mondstadt, the two most capable, arguably, of sneaking around when it came to the Knights of Favonius. 

Around this time relations with diplomats have soured from the incidents that had happened in Liyue, and a lot of secretive moves are needed to take care of the root of the Fatui in Mondstadt. 

The both of you have decided to embark on your journey, in which Kaeya had the faintest of ideas that he had under his sleeves on how to get through with the Fatui. 

Upon arrival you both decide to approach them, careful with how you act and greeted them politely. 

“What is your business with the Fatui?” they grab a blade under their coats as their masked faces pointed to you both.

Kaeya casually approached them and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your closer causing you to blush instantaneously. 

“I apologize for the intrusion, but my significant other had run a shop in Mondstadt, we sell sunsettias and apples that we farm in springvale and we have gone bankrupt from the unfair trade system of this entire nation!” Kaeya had played his part well, a little too well to make you realize how much he had been acting around you. 

He had shocked you initially with his actions, and you had thought of it to be selfish to hold onto him like this a little longer and to just pretend. 

You slowly embraced him back, which caused Kaeya to flinch initially, but tightened the grip he had on you like a warm embrace. 

“He’s right,” you stated in a sullen tone. “My husband and I, we cannot make an honest living from this, and we had heard around that your code involved economics, so we hope that we can trust you to, even out the scales a bit,” you instantly lowered your head at them with respect and tugged at Kaeya to do the same.

Waiting for a response your heart tensed up ever so slightly, but when you heard a gruff “Fine” coming from the Fatui, your heart soared in excitement. 

“We will avenge your little fruit stand at dawn tomorrow. Mondstadt’s knights will know terror,” she muttered before walking away and signaled for the rest of the Fatui to do the same. 

Kaeya had immediately let go of you and the strong winds of Mondstadt had struck you ice cold. He gave you a flirtatious smile as he held your chin with his index finger and thumb close to your lip.

“You did a great job playing my significant other there, sweetheart,” he continued to call you these playful names that made your heart twinge in confusion and embarrassment.

Realizing his skills when it came to acting, you wondered if the affection that he gave you from time to time as well as this very moment was all a ruse. 

Giving him a sullen face you slowly pulled his hand away from your chin, backing away from him and walking back to the headquarters.

“Hm? What seems to be the matter? Nothing Captain Kaeya can’t fix,” he ran to stand next to you, but you looked away from him, terrified of what he could do next to you. 

“It’s nothing, Kaeya,” you wave him off. “Nothing you can do about it, anyways...,” you mutter the last line to yourself that he had barely heard with his own ears. 

It was difficult for Kaeya to help you in such a depressed state that he had, and thought going about it by giving you space. After what had happened in the past, he preferred for you to have your moments before he’d butt in himself. 

He distracted the thoughts by letting the Knights of Favonius know about the incident and prepare for a raid at dawn. However, when leaving Jean and Lisa had noticed something drastically different about Kaeya’s behavior; a worried look on his face. 

Dismissing it as part of the Fatui’s attack, he had never really felt total fear towards them and knew how easily he could take a couple of their members head on. However, he found himself checking up on you and did not dare step in the bar he loved, knowing that because of his actions he would be the last thing that you would want to see. 

In the mean time you spent a lot of time at the tavern, letting the bard’s music and lively atmosphere drown out your overthinking thoughts, as you waited till the next morning until you had to face the mysterious Kaeya yet again. 

With a sword ready in hand and the other guards at the front of the headquarters, you watched the Fatui approach and soon became no match for the Knights of Favonius, countering the surprise raid with ease.

At first your swordsmanship kept you protected, but upon seeing Kaeya in a distance, you fumbled consistently. Forcing yourself to get back up in battle, he looked back at you, too. Worrying for your safety, a feeling that you would have last expected from him. 

As you took on more of the Fatui agents than you can handle, one had crept up behind you, and aimed a blade towards your throat. 

Fortunately, Kaeya was quick enough to act and knocked down the Fatui with a couple of blows, aiming a sword at their neck. 

“Y/N! Quit slacking off you could have died there,” his normal cunning attitude and mocking remarks seemed to have lessened tenfold.

“What, are you acting about caring about my wellbeing now?” you were fueld with anger as you let it out on the enemy attacking, knocking them out in a similar fashion with swords clashing the blades of the Fatui. 

“Well-” Kaeya parried the shots being thrown at him. “-If you consider me hiding what I’ve felt for so long acting, then I must be the most talented actor in-” he was cut off by quick attacks from the enemy. “-all of Teyvat!”

You were shocked at your statement, and in the heart of battle, yours filled with adrenaline from Kaeya’s words. “Wait-” you continued to battle those in front of you, swiftly putting them out of their misery with quick blows to free room to talk to Kaeya. “-Wait, why now?” you panted out with tire. 

He let out a cocky laugh as he took on more of the agents. “Doesn’t matter when. Doesn’t matter if you thought I was faking it before. What matters is-” he grunted out of pain when he was forcefully hit at his side. “-That I got the message across, right?”

After hours of relentless battle he finally doubled down and the Fatui had retreated, leaving you with minor injuries but Kaeya taking on more than needed. 

Sitting at his side on the battlefield, you grabbed medicine that was strapped to your waist. “Lift up your shirt,” you disregarded what he had said earlier in fear for his wellbeing. 

“Are you sure you don’t need that medicine yourself, Y/N? You’re face is awfully red,” he outstretched a shaky hand to cup your face with a wry smile, his eye shimmering as he stared at you.

Your heart thumped rapidly when combining his previous words of confession and his present actions now. You froze in time to Kaeya’s cold touch and let him be in your company this time around.

“Shut it, Captain Kaeya,” you took out the medicine and poured it over his toned chest, hands shaking from the flustered feeling you had throughout.

“Ouch, who knew that someone without a cryo vision could be so cold to a person with one?” he winced at the stinging medicine covering his wound, and in return you held his hand cupping your face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him. “It’ll only hurt a for a little bit longer before it heals, if it actually hurts at all,” you stubbornly let out. 

He let out another weak laugh. “I wish I was faking it this pain this time around, Y/N, but everything I’ve said on this battlefield is the truth.”

You were silent at this point, working diligently to bandage his wound.

“Holding you had felt like I cradled the world in my arms, even if it was a temporary moment, dear,” his fingers tapped gently on your cheek. “Even if the idea of us being wed was fake, the feeling that significant others would have for each other felt real to me.”

You smiled at his notion, staring into his glimmering eye with the weak smile and face caked in scars and dirt. 

Holding him close to you, you could not help but smile back.

“And you promise that you aren’t faking it this time?” you asked.

He laughed again, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. “I promise what I feel is real, Y/N, and I’d love to show you for whatever days in Teyvat we have left.” 

And in that moment, that fog of mystery unveiled Kaeya’s true nature and colors in front of you in a moment of vulnerability, one you wanted to cherish every moment and label as real. 

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

[wallwriterstuff]

Her Reflection ||Marcus Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: Angst city central, descriptions of grief and depression

Words: 2741

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Summary:

A request for @like-rain-or-confetti

Marcus is resolute in his grief, so much so he has refused Corin’s gift many a time. When you show up, he can’t help but realise that perhaps his centuries of suffering were enough, that the contentment you offer is far more permanent than Corin’s. Maybe,  just maybe...Didyme sent you to him to give him one last chance at the happiness she loved to spread about.

You were a wonderful find.

Aro had been delighted to see you in his thoughts. He had been forced to leave the safety of Volterra for a business trip, the accounts of their business front needing attention every few decades to keep up the ruse of a modern, evolving company with changing leadership and new blood in its crew. The journey to Rome had been uneventful until they found the rogue little newborn tearing holes in a small residential area they had had to pass through. Demetri had quickly found the little fiend and as Aro took his face in his grasp, the images had raced through his mind, the regret he hadn’t taken your offer to help him strongly resonating through his body as it was mercilessly torn apart.

“Oh…Demetri…find this one.” He had murmured. Demetri did, and you had been amongst the guard now for eleven months. It had been a surprise to Marcus when you showed up with his brother as you didn’t seem to fit the Guard’s image – he wasn’t sure you knew how to be intimidating. It was clear you hadn’t come of your own volition, you were far too intelligent to be deceived into thinking Aro’s offer to join was real and clearly saw you actually had no choice at all, but still you came with a gracious smile, like you’d rather be nowhere else. After so many centuries of living and travelling as nomad you had confessed to Marcus a place to settle was nice, and despite so much time on your own you had a warm and welcoming nature that just drew the others to you.

It was all too easy to find your place when your place seemed to be everywhere and anywhere. As bitter and cautious as they were, even the twins seemed to warm to you rapidly after a few discussions. Marcus was mildly intrigued at first, but he didn’t really see enough of you to form any solid opinion on you. He only knew what he had heard, and what he had heard was that you were helpful and kind, quick to soothe pain and anger in others even if it festered in yourself. It sounded so awfully familiar to him that the raw ache in his chest, one that had never really gone away, throbbed so badly he was forced to turn his face to avoid your visage when you entered the room. Still, your voice was sugar sweet, melodic and soothing, it was a balm somehow to that pain. Months later he couldn’t say he was rid of it, he never would be rid of the pain he was sure, but it had dimmed somewhat.

His intrigue had turned to infatuation quickly when he finally let himself cast a glance at you. You were attractive to him, very pleasing to the eye though not in an exaggerated way. What made you beautiful was your personality, and it was what brought so many to your side in their efforts to win themselves a chance at capturing your affections. You turned down one after the next, the bonds you chose to make with the rest of the Guard purely founded on friendship and nothing more. Even when you grew those you coveted most it never came close to anything romantic and he was somewhat glad of that. He didn’t want to be the reason you never knew happiness, but he couldn’t help but wish that perhaps you might find it in him. There were other complications with that of course, because how could you ever give yourself to someone so broken? Was he even capable of love? How did you find happiness in someone devoid of it? He had felt it once before and this was so similar…

You had shown up more and more in the throne room, guarding them as they read. If you ever noticed his stare you didn’t say or make it obvious, but you did catch his eye once or twice and the smile you gave him warmed him inside. It had felt awful the first few times because how could he betray Didyme like that? How was it right, how was it fair, that he might get to feel any semblance of joy after his mate had gone unavenged? Was it even possible to fall in love again? Perhaps the centuries had worn away that original bond, but even that felt like a disservice to Didyme’s love, her kindness. It was enduring in ways that nothing else was. Then it hit him, you reminded him of her. The bond he could form with you was not so different to the one he had shared with her, you were too similar for it not to be.

Didyme’s gift had been happiness, the aura so inviting she had infected everyone around her with it, and while you didn’t share that gift you shared that personality. Marcus understood then, why the colour had returned to the halls as he walked them, why the sunshine seemed warmer on his skin as he passed by windows. It was you. Yet more complications came with that revelation because he was growing ever more restless (in his own lethargic way) and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide it. How did he tell you he had grown to love you for the very same reasons he had loved her? It was like looking at her reflection distorted in a mirror, a different face and different person but the same kind of heart. You had different passions and opinions and a slightly lethal edge to your physical prowess that he found gave him comfort, for it reminded him you were not her and you were able to defend yourself in ways she hadn’t been able to, but it also finally gave him the courage to admit that yes, he did love you, he did love you and he loved you because though you were like her you were not her.

Marcus didn’t want you to think about Didyme though when you spoke to him, he didn’t want you to see yourself as a replacement for a great, epic love. Unbeknownst to him, you had enquired about the sad king the moment you arrived. Marcus’s entire being radiated such grief and pain that it had been impossible not to ask about him, and given your easy to talk to nature (and the fear of what would happen to you if you unknowingly stuck your foot in your mouth) many a guard had happily told you the reasons for his depression.

“Didyme was beautiful.”

“Didyme was always so kind.”

“She made a whole room light up when she walked into it.”

“It was the greatest love story our kind have ever seen.”

Every statement had only made your heart hurt for the man more and more. His pain was so palpable, but his interest was also obvious. For a man so broken by the loss of such a momentous love it was surprising to say the least, but you also weren’t complaining. You had no desire to see anyone feel like he did, to be so trapped in darkness, and you had made it your mission to make the throne room feel a little lighter whenever you walked into it. Marcus was rather attractive in his own way, even with the corners of his mouth pulled down and his eyes so devoid of light. You were sure with a real smile he would look radiant as his eternal youth dictated he should. The day you got to see that first wisp of a smile was the day you became more determined to see it more often. Most people had gotten so used to overlooking Marcus unless he was called upon that you were able to share subtle looks and smiles from across the room with nobody really noticing – you smiled so often it wasn’t an unusual thing to see.

It was getting close to an important anniversary, important in Marcus’s mind anyway. You had been with the Guard for almost a year and people had started to notice the effects on the quiet King. Marcus had taken to wandering the halls more often than before, enjoying the library and the music room. The Gardens would be off-limits for a while yet, the tree planted in Didyme’s honour still blooming strong every year due to Aro’s careful upkeep and too much for his heart, his eyes. It was while admiring a painting in the hall that he came across you.

“Surely, after the length of your stay with us, you have seen this piece before?” his voice was soft, a slight rasp from the disuse and lack of satisfaction in his life that had lasted so long it was difficult to get rid of it. He felt like a schoolboy when you smiled at him, and for once he embraced the feeling rather than trying to shun it.

“I have, still it amazes me.” You confessed.

“There are larger pieces.” He mused.

“Size does not guarantee quality.” Your response was accompanied by a cheeky smile that made his own lips twitch upward, that ghost of a smile upon on his lips making you sigh contentedly. Twice in one day? It must have been vampire Christmas. For a while, you stood in silence and contemplated the painting before you. It was a simple piece of artwork, the Tuscan countryside interrupted by a quaint little cottage.

“What do you see?” Marcus asked you quietly. Head tilting, you hummed thoughtfully.

“I see peace.” You voice was decisive and he couldn’t help but frown. Peace? He had studied art a lot over the centuries and he had to admit, he had never once looked at this piece twice as something he could profoundly evaluate. It was a field, it was a cottage, it was…something that felt very literal in what it was.

“Peace?” he questioned.

You hummed. “The colours are so warm, and the hills just keep rolling. This landscape stretches forever, an endless path of golden light. There is always something to look forward to ahead but so much beauty around that cottage that you would be equally as happy to stay in that moment. To be able to see the beauty in what’s around us…that is the key to peace to me.”

Marcus could only stare at the painting, trying to see what you saw. He had seen nothing but grey for so long that the warm colours still felt faded. He couldn’t really remember what true peace felt like until he became brave enough to stand beside you. You radiated it. You were so content in life it was impossible not to feel the peace of mind you carried with you everywhere you went.

“What do you see?” you asked him. He didn’t dare stare into those wine-red eyes, sure his words would flee him. Marcus cleared his throat slightly, contemplating what to say. The truth was, he hadn’t seen anything in art ever since he began to study it. He had never seen metaphors or symbolism. Art had the potential to be beautiful and breath-taking but he had lost his ability to see it, until recently. There was…something, he realised, the more he stared at it.

“I see a cottage,” he said slowly, “But it is plain. Plain yet…surrounded by warmth. Isolated, and yet beautiful…it is…it feels as though, it could be home.” There was a deafening silence after he spoke, his words carrying more weight than he had first realised, weight you clearly felt. Marcus had lived in darkness, in agony and despair, in shadows, but with you there was light, joy, and beauty. He could live that way again if you allowed him the chance to. He could find that beautiful home in you. His hand was slow, reaching for yours. For a while the tip of his little finger touching the side of your hand was all he felt, not brave enough to go any further but so desperate to. When your fingers twitched, curling around his own to link your pinkies and hold his hand loosely, he knew instinctually that you wouldn’t let go. You would help him take that last step into the light. He didn’t need to be afraid.

“Master-“

“Marcus,” he amended softly, “I wish for you to call me Marcus.”

You nodded. “Marcus, then.”

A startled little laugh escaped him, because Didyme had once said the exact same thing to him. Unknowingly, you had replicated their very first exchange. Surprised red eyes stared up at him – you had never heard him laugh before. He seemed just as shocked since he wasn’t sure he was capable of such a sound anymore.

“You…you are so like her.” he sighed wistfully. In an ideal world she would be here, but…wasn’t this ideal? A second chance was unheard of amongst their kind and he was desperate to grasp it with both hands, but he feared holding too tight and shattering the hope he was unknowingly placing in you.

"Her? I...oh...Marcus..." you trailed off. Marcus finally met your eyes, the depth of sadness in his expression something you knew now you would never be able to fully alleviate, but you could meet him in the sea of his despair and keep him afloat, couldn’t you? This kind man deserved better.

“Forgive me. I had no wish to startle you, but you remind me so much of…of Didyme.” He whispered. Your expression softened, but there was no pity there, no sympathy, only gratitude. His honesty was applaudable and the courage it must have taken to say her name, that he felt safe enough to attempt such a feat with you of all people…you were grateful. Grateful to share this quiet moment with a man you had come to greatly admire, grateful to be held in such high esteem by him.

“That makes me truly happy to hear.” you confessed. Marcus frowned, looking confused.

“It does?” he questioned. You smiled, giving your interlocked fingers the slightest squeeze. Marcus slid his palm against your own, fully taking hold of your hand now he was more confident his affections were not about to be rejected.

“The day I arrived you looked so sad. I asked around, not wanting to say anything I shouldn’t and upset you further. The tales I heard, the descriptions I was given…it is an honour to think I might remind you of her in even the smallest of ways.” Your reassurance was like a warm blanket. Feeling cocooned and safe, he lifted your intertwined hands to brush the lightest of kisses against your knuckles. The tender gesture would have made you blush if you still had the ability.

“She was truly a miracle in my life, yet for all the ways you remind me of her, you seem to have just as many differences between you two,” he murmured, “I confess…I admire the reflection of her I see in you, but I love the little things that mark you as separate from her. It felt wrong to do so, yet I could not help it.” Pursing your lips, you tried to calm your racing thoughts as Marcus watched you for any hint of reaction. He had been open and honest, taken a brave step, and he needed you to meet him halfway lest he retreat back into the shadows. Living in hope was no foreign thing for you and you didn’t just meet him halfway, you anchored him in that hope so he might never retreat again.

“It would be a privilege to help you remember what it is like to be loved.” You assured him. Marcus gave you another small smile. Over time, those smiles grew and grew until they crinkled his eyes at the corners. Some days he laughed. On one rare occasion you had gotten him to dance with you in the music room to the record playing on the gramophone. Bit by bit the light returned to his eyes until he beamed so brightly when he saw you that it was obvious to everyone the Marcus they had once known had been partially revived. Grief was a constant companion but it no longer crippled him, and in the safety of your embrace Marcus felt so far from the shadows he was certain for the first time in centuries that he was finally free of them.