#if only i could get this luck with black lion chests. cough

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

'haha, two ascended drops in one day? that'll NEVER happen again' I say, 2 days before it happens again. well okay fine I take that back NOW it will never happen again.

[horrorslashergirl]

Kinky December Day 4: Fireplace Sex with Chromeskull

Authors Note: We spend the fourth day of this event with Chromeskull and it seems this Florida guy hates the cold. Let’s see how Jesse deals with it. I decided to introduce my home country in this piece and share a little of my country with you all. Greetings from Romania! I hope you all have a warm winter.

Chromeskull x Reader- Not the usual Florida heat

Winter was all about the coldness, the pure white snow that fell from the sky, fluffy coats that hugged your body and drinking hot beverages, but that wasn't the case in Florida. You weren't looking forward to decorating a palm tree for Christmas, so you suggested your lover spending this year Christmas in your home country, which he agreed, all for you.

You had to stifle the laugh the first time you got off the plane in Romania and the first cold air that hit your bodies; Jesse was a shivering mess, pulling the black coat closer to his body, the mist of cold air that escaped his mouth with each breath he took.

The whole ride to the cabin you rented for the holiday was spent with Jesse searching for warmness, his body flush against yours in the backseat and the constant signing about how cold it was and something about him freezing his balls.

After five hours of driving, you reached the cabin, Jesse entering the cabin first and setting your and his luggage on the wood floorboards. The cabin was still cold and he had a constant frown on his scarred face, half of which was covered by a scarf.

'It's freezing cold inside.' Jesse signed with shaky fingers and you rolled your eyes at his bickering.

"Of course it's cold. We have to start making the fire, big baby." You told him as you waltzed into the living room, pulling your scarf off and coat, stretching your arms above your head. The cabin was very cozy and it was so good to be finally back in Romania, Jesse on the other hand? Not that much.

There was also another problem, the lack of firewood and you knew that the next words that will leave your mouth will make Jesse want to go back to Florida with the next plane.

"You will have to go outside and get wood for the fire." you told him and he gave you a simple look that said 'Are you kidding me?'.

"The ax is outside on the front porch. Good luck, stud." You told him, hiding the smirk that formed on your face as you heard the front door open and shut with a bang.

Jesse was a southern guy in all ways possible, spending all his life in the Floridian heat, so being dragged into your country when the winter was in full blast wasn't exactly something he enjoyed, but you knew he was doing all this for you and that made you happy. Looking around you decided that you should start decorating the cabin and make it homely.

You were grinning in victory when you found the Christmas decorations in a closet; as you were putting the shiny globes on the empty Christmas tree in the living room you heard the front door open, something being dropped on the floor and the door closed with a bang. Peeking your head in the hallway, you saw some wood by the front entrance.

It was a silent request: Start making the fire while I get more wood so my dick won't be transformed into a popsicle.

You quickly started to make the fire in the living room by the fireplace, your eyes shining as the bright flames came alive, the warmness kissing your cold hands. 

After one more hour, you looked around the now Christmas decorated living-room; Christmas tree beautifully shining with lights and all kinds of decorations, the flames dancing in the fireplace. Next, it was the food; you skipped into the kitchen and mentally thanked your friend for taking their time to come and bring the food, the fridge full of all you needed to cook.

You decided to make something homely, something traditional. One of the Romanian dishes that best represent the Balkan influence is the popular sarmale, stuffed cabbage or vine leaves with a mix of rice, minced meat, onion, tomatoes, and herbs. A favorite for most Romanians, this dish is usually served with cream and polenta and is a sure presence on all Christmas tables across the country. You also grinned wickedly when you found a certain bottle in one of the cabinets in the kitchen. Traditional spirit with approx. 40% alcohol, made from the distillation of plums. Its stronger alternative is Palinca or Țuică, usually prepared in Northern Romania (Ardeal county), distilled twice and made from different sorts of fruits.

Jesse loved fine liquor, so the thought of him taking a sip of this would be interesting; it was a strong drink and the note on the bottle made you giggle.

'A little treat before having fun.'

Back on cooking, next, it was Cozonac, a kind of Stollen made from leavened dough, into which milk, eggs, sugar, butter, and other ingredients are mixed together before baking. You decided to make it with almonds. After putting it in the oven, you decided that the last on the list would be a traditional warm soup, knowing Jesse will need something to put the coldness away.

You started to make meatball soup, a traditional Romanian sour soup with said meatballs consisting of pork and rice. They are seasoned with parsley, lovage, salt, borş, and sour cream.

Whipping your hands you were looking proud at the table filled with the warm Romanian cuisine, and just like the time couldn't be more perfect, you heard the front door open, a gust of cold wind and snow coming into the hallway.

You walked there to see Jesse covered in snow and shaking like a Chihuahua, and you giggled, making your behemoth lover glare at you and you knew if you were a piggy the ax he was holding in his gloved hand would be impaled straight in the center of your forehead.

'I hate winter. I hate the snow. Romania is cruel.' he signed, pulling his snow-covered coat, scarf, and hat off. Your eyes noticed the pile of wood by the door and you smiled warmly at Jesse, walking towards him and resting your hands on his chest, nuzzling into his cold chest, the turtleneck he was sporting didn't help much to keep him warm.

"I cooked for us. It's all warm." you whispered into his chest, rubbing his sides to get the coldness away.

'Finally. I'm starving. Chopping piggies heads off is much funnier, than chopping wood.' he signed, following you into the kitchen and you rolled your eyes.

Typical Jesse.

Brown eye widened as you entered the kitchen with him, the smell of delicious food hitting his nose, it was much warmer here from the oven constantly working up from your cooking.

Filling two small glasses with , you offered him one and he looked at it suspiciously.

"I'm not gonna poison you, idiot." you told him with a smirk making him snort.

You both raised the small glasses in salute and drowned the drink; you were used to the strong alcohol, but Jesse? You laughed as you watched him cough, looking at you like you were crazy.

"Stronger than whiskey, huh?" you asked Jesse all smugly.

'It's very good, but....How do you Romanians live drinking it?' he signed, making you giggle.

'By the way. Drinking isn't supposed after eating?' he asked you and you shake your head.

"Not this one, baby. Normally, Țuică is only consumed before the meal." you explained then offered a seat for him at the table, first serving him the warm soup, which he eats eagerly, probably starved from all the wood chopping and cruel weather outside.

Cruel for him of course.

Next was the second dish, which he looked at with confusion.

"Go ahead, take a bite." you urged him, continuing to eat your own meal.

You were ready to get another portion of sarmale, but your eyes widened when you saw that the big bowl was empty. Looking at Jesse you saw him lean into the chair, a content look on his face, rubbing his stomach.

"You eat all of them." you said, almost dumbfounded.

'It was delicious, doll. How come you haven't cooked these meals for me before?' he asked, filling his glass with the traditional Romanian liquor that he seemed to get accustomed to.

"I didn't think you would like them that much." you whispered and he simply smirked, shrugging.

'So? What else you got for me?' he signed, ready to eat more.

"I didn't think I would have to feed a lion, but we still got some dessert." you told him, offering the plate of cozonac to him.

He took a small bite of the good and his brown eye lit up, getting the plate from your hands and eating all of the pieces. After he was done, he closed his eye and sighed silently, his stomach full and feeling like he was in heaven.

"Geez, all Americans are big gluttons?" you sassily asked with a raised eyebrow, amused to say the last, but also very proud of your cooking.

Jesse opened his eye and gave you a lop-sided smirk.

'Everything that you do is delicious, baby girl....Including your own little self.' he signed, licking his lips as he gave you a not very discreet look that made you blush.

"Well, I'm glad you aren't bickering about the cold anymore, but I have to wash the dishes." you told him, getting from the chair and walking to the sink, only for a pair of strong arms to wrap around your waist, pulling your body flush against Jesse.

"Jesse?" you called on to him, only feeling his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, his face nuzzling into your hair, the embrace you were trapped tightening.

'I want more dessert.' he signed in front of you, turning you around and backing you into the living room, his eyes on the fireplace and he pulled away from you to put more logs to keep the cabin all warm and cozy.

'Come here, doll. Come to daddy.' he signed, beckoning you over to him, which you happily did.

You could never deny him anything, not Jesse. He did so many things for you, treating you like a princess, making sure you had no worries, that you were always smiling. Walking over to him, you pressed your lips against his, your hands moving up and down his chest, while his own were cupping your asscheeks through your black leggings.

Tongues rubbed against each other, loving how you both tasted, how delicious you were. Teeth nipped at his lower lip and he let out a silent growl that vibrated through your mouth. The next thing you knew, you found yourself on your back on the soft, fluffy rug in front of the fireplace with Jesse between your legs.

He looked down at you with a mischievous smirk.

'Since I'm a guest in Romania, I should get the full-on experience, sugartits.' he signed deviously and you chuckled, starting to kiss his neck, your hands moving under his black turtleneck and over his chest, your cold hands making him shiver and jump slightly.

'Fuck....You're so cold.' he signed, resting his forehead against yours as your thumb grazed one of his nipples.

"Mhmm....You know I have bad circulation. You weren't bickering about it back in Florida." you commented, making him snort, one of his hands moving under your leggings to pinch your buttcheek, a squeal leaving your lips.

He didn't waste another moment with signing, tugging on your sweatshirt off along with your leggings and socks, leaving you in only black matching lingerie.

"Hey....You're way too overdressed here." you whined, making Jesse chuckle silently against your collarbone, his hands moving behind you to unclasp your bra, nipples hardening as you felt the tickle of the flames kiss your skin which was so sensitive from all the teasing.

Your hands found the edge of Jesse's turtleneck and tugged it up, exposing inked skin, your fingers running over the intricate designs, admiring every detail that he had to offer.

"You're so handsome." you whispered; God, he loved you so much.

Jesse never thought that he would ever spend Christmas with a beloved one ever again, not with the face he had, but you proved him wrong and he felt like this was all a dream and he was afraid he was going to wake up. he couldn't bear the idea of losing you.

He has pulled away from the dark thoughts when you cupped his scarred cheek, looking up at him with a longing look on your face.

"Jesse.....mae love to me." you whispered, giving him an innocent look from under your eyelashes.

He felt all his restraints leave him; he couldn't control himself when you looked at him like that. Lips crashed into yours in a needy kiss, his hands working on his black cargo pants and socks, pulling every layer of clothing off. Finally, his hands tugged on the waistband of your panties, pulling the last piece of clothing that separated both of you.

You shivered when you felt his intimidating length brush against your inner thigh, his big hands cupping your ass, loving how small you were compared to him, all the power dynamic between you two was making all the blood rush straight to his cock.

"You're everything I've ever wanted," you whispered against his neck, your teeth grazing his Adam apple.

Jesse tightened his grip on your skin, brown gaze looking down at you and when you tightened your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, his cock flush against your already dripping pussy, he felt like he would almost come undone; the effects you were having on him were making him feel like a virgin teenager.

One hand moved between your legs, running his palm over your slit, his face into the crock of your neck inhaling in your sweet scent; you were just so perfect and when he guided his length inside you, he thought he died and went to heaven.

You were such an angel, an angel that decided to sin with the devil.

You were so warm and tight, gripping his length like a hot soft blanket, so wet and ready to be pounded into oblivion. He started with slow and long thrusts, savoring every inch of your walls.

"H-Harder, please...." you moaned out, your hands gripping his biceps, nails dragging over tattooed skin.

'Beg me...Beg me to fuck you, my queen.' he signed with shaky hands.

Your breathing picked up, gulping down, and wetting your lips with your tongue.

"Jesse...Please, fuck me harder. I need you so bad. I’m…so…dam…horny right now." you whined, inner walls clenching on him as he picked up his pace, not wasting any moment to bring you such satisfaction, knowing he was the only one able to make you beg, make you shake under him all helpless.

The sounds your pussy was making around his cock was music to his ears, feeling your juices coating his cock with every pull and push of his hips. He would have liked to tease you more, but he loosed his patience. He will have more time tomorrow to tease the hell out of you, but now? All he wanted was to fill you up until you will be dripping his cum until the next day.

Jesse wished he could have more control around you. Gripping your legs tightly he began to pound into you mercilessly, making your breasts move with each push against you; scarred lips pulled into a snarl as he felt the delicious knot in the pit of his stomach.

Oh so close, just a few more thrusts.

When you came hard on his cock, squirting over the rock-hard length he came undone, following in your climax. Your nails dragged down his back as you felt hot jets of cum coat your inside, milking him for all he was worth.

"Te iubesc atât de mult." you whispered in his ear, making his eye widen, your accent so sweet.

You thought him a few Romanian words so he knew exactly what you said, but it was the way you said it; so sincere and innocent.

'God, I love it when you talk Romanian.' he signed, nuzzling his face into your neck, layers of sweat coating your bodies as you snuggled into each other in front of the fire on the white fluffy rug.

"Mmmm Jesse.....Will you pull out?" you murmured into his chest as he laid you both on your sides.

'Later....You're so warm.' he signed, lips pressing against your forehead.

"You're such a child." you said, rolling your eyes, but your arms tightened around him.

Not even the big blizzard outside bothered Jesse anymore, not when he had your naked form in his arms.

'Will you make more of your traditional food?' Jesse asked, eye shining like a child's with enthusiasm.

"Mhmmm.....if you will take care of the firewood." you replied.

'Crap...'

END

[leapyearkisses]

And OMG, They Were Rollmates (m/m) - Oneshot

A D&D-inspired ficlet about an elf wizard and a human ranger sharing a bedroll, and also they fuck. And there are some feelings because I’m incapable of writing porn without them.

NSFW, MESS, sneezing on people

---

Ingvar poked a stick between the smoldering logs he'd stacked in the firepit, but stabbing the coals did nothing to make the fire any bigger or warmer. The wood was just too wet, even this deep into the forest. The thick canopy couldn't protect against the north's seasonal storms. It was just poor luck that he and Aravel had to travel this way at this time of year. It was going to be another cold night. He sneaked a look at his travelling companion, who was setting up their tent.  Aravel blended uncannily into the scenery here. Maybe it wasn't surprising, him being a wood elf. His skin was the fine, rich red-brown of cherry wood. His hair was a greeny bronze that mimicked the hanging moss of his home forest. Even his eyes were camouflage, golden and catlike. In the dark, they reflected the firelight like those of a mountain lion, and Ingvar had been spooked more than once. Combine all that with Aravel's leaf-like, layered robes, and it was hard to pick him out at twenty paces. Ingvar had been trained as a ranger since he could walk, and he was jealous of Aravel's natural, inborn ease among all things wooded. "Almost ready?" Ingvar asked after another minute. Their tent was small, only big enough for two people and a dog. They'd unfortunately lost Ingvar's hunting hound in a landslide a few days ago, along with Aravel's pack, so it was going to be colder than he liked inside. "We only have the one bedroll," Aravel said, stepping back from his work. He was still limping, but there wasn't much they could do about that. 

Ingvar rubbed his own aching elbow. "Well, we'll just have to make do. Come over and let's eat." He produced some wolf jerky from his pouch and shared it out when Aravel came to sit beside him. "How are you feeling?" It wasn't just the landslide that prompted the question. For the last few hours, he'd noticed Aravel slowing down, stumbling occasionally, even sneezing once or twice. Really, it was just their luck. The elf shrugged. "I'm falling ill," he replied wearily. "We should have made camp in Boarstead." He rubbed his slim hands together and held them over the sad excuse for a fire. "We didn't know it was going to be so difficult to cross the pass," Ingvar pointed out. "And you didn't know you would take sick. Did you?" "No," Aravel was quick to say. "No, I would have told you." Hiding such things on the road could lead to mistakes, sometimes fatal ones. "Then it was all inevitable," said Ingvar. He started to rub Aravel's back. "We can share the bedroll. I don't want you to get any worse." "I think hih- that's inevitable as well," Aravel mumbled, leaning into the touch. He tucked his face into his elbow. "Hpptsch! Hh- hh- hh- hh-- haptschiu!" Ingvar chuckled. "Didn't think you'd get that one out, there." "Be silent," said Aravel, primly, before sneezing again. It wasn't quite dark yet when they turned in, but night fell extremely quickly in the forest and it was best to be tucked in and completely settled before losing the light. They washed up as best they could with a few handfuls of water, packed the remaining bag tightly and hung it from a tree, and tried to stoke the fire as much as possible. Ingvar pissed in a circle around their camp to keep away curious animals, a practice he was not able to get Aravel to join in on. Then they entered the tent. The bedroll was narrow but also a necessity. "You first," said Aravel. "You're bigger. I can fit in afterward." So Ingvar climbed inside. He was tall but leanly muscled. He didn't think this whole endeavor would work if he was packing slabs like the warriors they often passed in town, huge beefy fellows who hired themselves out to defend homesteads or hunt bandits. They all seemed to have the same hairstyle, too, a tail at the neck. Seemed to Ingvar like a good place for an opponent to grab you and slit your throat. He wore his own black hair short when he was on the road. Just more practical. 

Once he was settled, he held open the fabric for Aravel. "We'll go back to back," said the elf, and attempted such, but they soon found that the bedroll wasn't wide enough for their knees to point in opposite directions. Normally, Ingvar would have offered to spoon his smaller companion - had done so many times when travelling with various folk - but Aravel actually kept his own mossy hair quite long, and after about three minutes of blowing hair out of his mouth, Ingvar nixed that plan. Aravel had to get out again, then back in, carefully sliding in behind Ingvar, and that seemed to do the trick. It was so tight that Ingvar could feel Aravel's lips on the back of his neck, and the elf had had to tuck his arms around Ingvar's torso. At least the exertion of struggling in and out would keep them warm for now. Ingvar didn't think they would be moving again until daybreak. "Comfortable?" he asked, pointlessly. Aravel's breath was warm on his skin. "More or less," Aravel murmured back. "Good enough, anyway..." And then his breath fluttered uncertainly. "Ingvar..." "Yes? Hey, you can't-" Aravel had started wriggling against him, trying to extract an arm that was wound under Ingvar's own. It made his elbow hurt again and he gritted his teeth. "What is it?? We don't really have a lot of room, here!" "I know, I'm sorry, but I hh have to sneeze! Hah-" Aravel kept tugging, but he'd only managed to jostle them; his arm was still stuck down inside the bedroll when he was overcome. "Haptschiu!" His nose bumped against Ingvar's neck, which was suddenly moist from the spray. Ingvar shivered a little from the sensation, partially from discomfort. "...Bless you." Aravel's skin heated. "I'm so sorry," he said. "Honestly. I'll try not to sneeze." He extricated his arm carefully, finally, so he could rub his nose and dry Ingvar's neck with his sleeve. When he was done, though, there was nowhere for him to put it but back into the bedroll. It hurt Ingvar's back if Aravel tucked his arm anywhere but where it had been before, settled on his hip and chest. It quickly became clear to them both that Aravel struggling to cover every time he felt a tickle was just impractical. It was tiring, painfully jostling, and most of the time not even fast enough to make a difference. Finally, Ingvar just folded his hand over Aravel's. "It's okay," he said. "It's okay. Try to get some sleep. I'll wash up in the morning and we'll forget about it." Aravel's hand was soft and trembling lightly. Ingvar gave it a squeeze. "....If you say so." The elf was clearly reluctant, but he already sounded half asleep. "Sorry." "Shh." Ingvar settled, closing his eyes. He was tired after a long day of travel, and whether their arrangement was for better or worse, he was warm. It was quiet outside. The trees were full of the sounds of night, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He could rest. Or, well. He did want to. But even mostly asleep, Aravel was still unfortunately stricken with illness, and his breathing fluttered with every small itch. He made soft, irritated sounds. He hitched, sometimes for quite some time, before subsiding. Or before working himself up to sneeze again. "Ah... hih... ih- hih-" Ingvar rubbed his thumb over Aravel's knuckles. "Hah-- Haptsch! Apttschih!" Aravel trembled and moaned softly. He pressed his nose to Ingvar's neck, seeking some sleeping aid for the torturous irritation. Maybe every few minutes, then maybe longer, Ingvar felt a gentle, wet burst against the back of his neck. It was an experience unlike any he'd had before in his life, and he had trouble categorizing it into "good" or "bad." Finally, it seemed as though exhaustion won out, and Aravel subsided into a deeper sleep, sniffling but blissfully still. Ingvar tried to match him, and soon enough he also fell asleep. In the predawn, maybe close to 4 AM, Ingvar woke. Some sound had woken him, triggering his honed ranger instincts. A soft sound, quivering in the darkness. Aravel, he realized after a moment. He could feel the elf's chest rising against his back. Aravel was awake, he thought, and it was confirmed when he felt the elf curl his fingers tightly in the fabric of Ingvar's jerkin. "No," Aravel whispered, obviously self-directed. He groaned lightly and Ingvar heard his breath catch sharply in the dark. "Huah-- Aa" He was clearly going to sneeze again - maybe this is what had woken him to begin with - and it sounded itchy and urgent. "Aa- AA- Apptschh! Happtschuh!" Aravel's body was tense behind his, and his nose and lips were crushed to Ingvar's skin when he sneezed. He felt the rush of air, light spray, and a sudden hot wetness against his neck. Aravel coughed lightly and sniffed hard, the sound thick. Aa. Well, he probably wasn't feeling much better then. Ingvar wondered if he should move, say something... but Aravel had started up again. "Hah- hhah- hahktschiu! Ohh... Aa- Haksh! Hh-Hngksch! Ahkttschxgh!"  There was another rush of mess, pooling at his neck. Ingvar supposed he should have been revolted or something, but his brain was currently fixated on a different feeling entirely. Aravel was pressed all along his back, tightly, and he could feel the hard line of the elf's cock against his backside. Now, this was an inevitability, and something he'd experienced with other companions as well, part of the drill. But he'd rarely traveled with anyone whose sleeping interest spurred him to offer reciprocation. Aravel was sick, but that didn't really hamper Ingvar's steady interest, which had been growing since they started travelling together three months ago. And he didn't enjoy the frustrated noises Aravel was making as he wrestled with his wet nose. Ingvar squeezed Aravel's hand. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry," mumbled the elf. His fingers twitched in Ingvar's grasp. "I know. It's okay. Let's come out of the bedroll for a minute." Aravel agreed, and the two of them managed to wriggle out. It was somewhat more difficult with limbs heavy from sleep, but soon both were seated in the very small tent. The air outside of the bedroll was starkly cold, and without thinking about it, Ingvar wrapped his arms around Aravel and pulled the smaller man to straddle his lap. "Wh-" "How do you feel? Can I do this?" Ingvar put one arm around Aravel's lower back to keep him steady. He rested his other hand on the elf's hip. "You tell me to stop if you want to stop." Aravel looked tired and somewhat uncertain in the dark. His upper lip and chin were shiny with mess before he abruptly buried his face in his elbow. "It's hahh fine. I... I'm fine with it." Maybe he would have been blushing, but he ducked further into his sleeve. "Huahh-- Hapkstcxh!!" His whole body rocked with it, and he was still hard. Ingvar could feel the press of Aravel's member against his own. "Bless you," he said, and kissed the elf's hair. "Are you warm enough?" "Hnngh... I'm not cold." "Is it okay if I touch?" "It's- hh hh hih- Hhokay. Aptschiu!!" Again, Aravel rocked.  Ingvar kissed him again and then moved his hand from Aravel's hip to between them. He slipped his hand under the elf's robes, finding velvety bare skin awaiting him. Aravel's cock fit in his palm and he closed his fingers around it gently, skin slipping on the beginning of wetness there. "Okay?" Aravel nodded. His cat eyes had gone half-lidded and he was biting his lip. "I might sneeze on you," he said, breathless. Ingvar laughed. "Tell me something I don't know." He rested his forehead against Aravel's. "You're paying for me to have a niiiice, long bath at the next inn we get to." That earned a wry smile. "I'd love to... but my wallet went over the cliff with my bag, remember?" Ingvar squeezed Aravel's cock, earning him a pleased moan. "That's right, isn't it. Then you can make it up to me in a different way." He nuzzled Aravel's hairline. "Can I kiss you?" "Yes, kiss me." Aravel sighed into his mouth, thighs trembling as Ingvar started to stroke him up and down. The elf tasted sweet and salty. Ingvar wondered for a moment if that's what his cock would taste like as well, but there would be time to find out later. Right now, he wanted to bring them both to pleasure before they got too cold to want it. Aravel curled against him as he worked, tucking his face into his sleeve still, catching and guarding against his frequent sniffles and sneezes. Ingvar ran a thumb over Aravel's tip and was rewarded with the sweetest moan. He teased again. "M' going to bite you," gasped Aravel, taking Ingvar's shoulders in both hands. "Please, please." "Easy, sweet one." Ingvar tightened his grip. "Ready?" He knew the elf was close, could feel it in the way he kept tensing his thighs against Ingvar's own. "Yes," Aravel half-sighed, nails just this side of painful in Ingvar's back. "Now, please." They kissed again, and Ingvar worked his hand over Aravel until the smaller man could do nothing but cling and gasp, shaking, as he came explosively over Ingvar's hand and lap. Ingvar followed soon after, although his release was trapped by his breeches. Not ideal, but he could hardly think of that with Aravel still pressed to him, chest heaving, warm and pliant. And sneezy still. "Happtsch! Akptsch! hah- HAH- HUAH-KTSCGH!!" Ingvar laughed and started to rub Aravel's back again, holding him close. "Bless you." Now the front of his neck was messy, too, but the aftershocks of his orgasm relaxed him and he found he didn't care at the moment. "How do you feel?" Aravel sniffled thickly, not moving from where he was leaning against Ingvar. "Tired. Good, but... mnn." "Let's go back to sleep. Hopefully your nose won't bother you too much now. Sounds like you must have got it out, whatever was bothering you." "I don't think that's how it works with a cold," Aravel replied, voice already muzzy.  Ingvar settled him again against his back in the bedroll. "I'll wake you in the morning to strike camp," he said, taking Aravel's hand again in his. "Sleep well." And at least the rest of the night went well. Aravel did sleep soundly until day broke and they had to move on. His sneezing failed to abate in the daytime, however, and when he began to stumble with fever, Ingvar picked him up to carry on his back, strapping their pack to his front. He'd not been expecting to have to deal with it again, but rather than distaste, Aravel's continued sneezing on his neck now made him feel something quite different. He hurried on through the forest to get them both out of the chill and into a nice, warm bed.

[hi-5-sunflower]

Chapter One

Finally decided to take the plunge and post a full chapter! Here we go!

Word count: 2,200

Summary: Laura sneaks into an alchemy storehouse at night in hopes of finding a medicinal herb for her sick father.

Content notices: Mild violence, mention of illness, mild blood

Laura never thought she’d be the type to commit a crime.

And yet, here she was.

Against a clear night sky, the alchemy storehouse loomed like a great block of granite, its entrance attended by a solitary pacing guard. Laura watched from the shadows of the field beyond, concealed amid a patch of dusty desert weeds, her spine burning from the strain of prolonged crouching. Clutching the heavy stone was cramping her hand, but patience was key if she had any hope for success tonight.

The guard’s dull yellow Glow lantern, hanging from a hook on the building’s face, did its best to fend off the gloom of the moonless night. Intuitively, Laura knew the field she hid out in was little more than a black void, but the night-vision tonic she’d taken kept fooling her; she could make out the cracks in the dirt beneath her feet, could count the twigs on the skeletal stalks around her as though a full moon shone overhead.

She watched as the guard approached the nearest corner of the storehouse before turning on his heel to march back, and Laura’s grip tightened around the stone, its jagged edges biting into her palm.

Almost.

As he reached the far corner, she seized her moment, rising up and hurling the rock as hard as she could. It sailed through the air, arcing over the field to a spot near where the guard stood.

With a thump and a rustle, it made contact with brittle shrubbery, and sure enough, the guard’s attention snapped toward it.

Now!

Laura darted from her cover, acutely aware of her footfalls pattering on the dirt as she hurried forward, pinning her knapsack to her body to silence it, making for the side of the storehouse. Giddiness fueled her as she sped across open land, not daring to look in the guard’s direction, not slowing her pace until she was tucked snug against the dark northern wall.

From here she crept silently alongside the building, staying deep in shadow. There might be another guard stationed at the rear entrance, but with any shred of luck, the first one wouldn’t raise the alarm.

At the corner, she knelt low, peering around slowly. This side was also lit by a hanging lantern, but to her immense relief, no one was back here. At least, not at the moment.

Still, that meant the first guard was responsible for watching back here, too, or there were others nearby. A stable and another low building were positioned in such a way that if someone inside looked out, they could easily see her.

No time to lose.

Unlike the front entrance, which was a standard door, the rear entrance was big enough to give entry to animal-drawn supply carts, closed off by a pair of massive wooden gates. An iron chain wound tightly between the gates, held fast by a heavy padlock. Laura approached, nodding to herself, and fished a set of lockpicks from her bag.

All week, she’d gathered every lock she could get her hands on in preparation for this moment, working at them for hours until she could’ve picked them in her sleep. Never mind that this lock was twice as big as those. That was just another of many hurdles to overcome tonight.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her as she fumbled with the greasy contraption, trying not to jangle the chain. She’d spent the last six years of her life in the Silver Guard, a faithful servant of the law, busting petty criminals for...

Well, this.

And yet, here I am.

She couldn’t afford to feel too bad about that now, though. That could come later.

With a heavy click, the lock popped open, and Laura exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath. The chain threatened to slide out of place, but she caught hold of it before it could make too much noise. She deliberately extracted it just enough that she could sidle between the doors and into the storehouse.

It was tempting to congratulate herself for this small success, but the job wasn’t done yet. She drew the gates closed behind her and turned her attention to the abyss she now stood in.

A broad skylight interrupted the middle of the ceiling, a dim sprinkle of stars visible through the glass panes, but the rest of the room was a jungle of silhouettes. She dug into her knapsack again, feeling around for her portable Glow lamp, as her enhanced night vision could only do so much in an area as large and dark as this. She pulled the little lamp out and switched it on, finding herself in an absolute labyrinth of towering shelves.

Oh boy.

She took a breath, inhaling the strange scent of the place—herbaceous, with a hint of horse—and reviving her determination. Lyusk root was the prize she sought, the key to alleviating her father’s incessant, painful coughing. Of the countless herbalists and apothecaries she’d visited in the last month, not a single one had the root for sale anymore, reducing her options to two: leave her father to suffer, or raid the stores of some high-profile alchemy company.

By that point, it hadn’t been a difficult choice. Now if she could only figure out where they’d stashed that damn root.

Her cylindrical lamp was designed to concentrate its Glow, but the cavernous darkness easily swallowed its faint white beam. She started down an aisle, checking crate labels, but some of the chicken-scratch print was barely legible. Squinting, she made out the words hyssop seeds on one.

The crates on the shelf beside it were labeled iceberry leaf extract, so she placed her bet on alphabetical arrangement. That meant she wasn’t terribly far from the lyusk root, assuming this place had some.

If it didn’t...

She pushed the thought from her mind and scanned labels as she hurried alongside the shelves, hoping she wouldn’t have to climb up high. Her pulse picked up as she skimmed the L’s: lavender...lion blossom...lotus concentrate...

Magnolia bark...

No!

Maybe it was up high after all. She took a few steps back, raising her lamp over her head to try glimpsing the labels on the upper shelves, but it was no good.

Taking note of her position, she went in search of a ladder, but before she could get far, a rattle echoed through the storehouse.

Someone was opening the gate.

Laura’s heart stopped. She fumbled with the lamp, switching it off, then knelt against a shelf in the dark, hardly daring to breathe.

“Okay, good try,” drawled a voice, echoing hollowly throughout the room. “I know someone’s in here. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

She could see the guard silhouetted in the thin gap between the gates, and to her dismay, he was flanked by two others. They, too, carried Glow lamps, but theirs were much brighter than hers, emitting long beams that cut through the darkness.

They split up, their beams swinging this way and that. As one set of footsteps approached Laura’s hiding place, she chose her moment and bolted, treading lightly as she wound her way through the maze.

She took refuge against a stack of crates near the exit. One guard still stood between her and freedom.

“I’ll make you a deal,” the guard called out. “Quit wasting my time and I’ll consider letting you go without reporting you.” Laura briefly considered the offer, but it was probably a bluff. She remained silent, trying not to breathe too hard or to let her nerves gain authority as she waited for her chance to escape.

The first guard’s lamp beam continued to probe into the blackness around him as he stood firm by the gate. Come on. You won’t find me like that. Any second now, one of his friends would make their way around a corner and spot her. She was stuck here until he decided to budge.

After what felt like an hour, he finally did, grumbling to himself as he made his way between two rows of shelves.

She sprinted for the gate. In her haste to get outside, her knapsack caught on the dangling length of chain, which emitted a deafening clatter as it slid to the ground.

Crap!

The guard’s beam honed in on the entrance just as she ducked away.

“Hey!”

Laura ran for it. Her heart battered against her chest as she skidded around the corner, trying to fight down her rising panic. They were pushing through the gate now. If she could make it into town, she could probably lose them, but she had to get there first.

Adrenaline spurred her forward, her hearing muffled by the rush of air in her ears. They were falling behind, she was sure of it...

And then, without warning, she collided face first into a brick wall.

Except the wall had hands, which closed around her wrists like a vice, resisting her attempts to wrench free.

“Alright, pal,” said her captor. “Fun’s over.”

Damn it.

The other two guards caught up, shining their blinding lights into her face, illuminating her failure. She squinted at them as defiantly as she could manage, and they responded by seizing her knapsack and tying her hands behind her back with scratchy rope.

“Nothing stolen in here,” said one guard, digging around in the knapsack. “Not much of a thief, eh?”

“Get her out of here,” said another. “Let the Guardians deal with her.”

They dumped her unceremoniously onto a rickety supply cart, and with her hands bound, it was a rough landing. A flash of white erupted behind her eyes as her head clashed with coarse wood, and after that, there was blood in her mouth.

It tasted like defeat.

Someone fetched a mule from the nearby stable, and a moment later the cart lurched into motion. Laura mentally cursed herself throughout the sore, splintery ride, trying not to think about the slew of problems she’d just created for herself.

Once they got into town, she was handed over to the Silver Guard as promised. As the official peacekeepers of the Tri-Realm Republic, the Guard were, to most, a symbol of leadership, protection, and upstanding citizenship. Laura grew up admiring that black-and-silver uniform and was ecstatic the day she finally got to don it herself, but at the moment, it was the last thing she wanted to see.

It was only a matter of time now before word of this incident got to her commanding officer. Before her own uniform was taken away for good. She cursed herself again.

“Alchemy storehouse, huh?” said the Guardian, mild amusement in her tone as she untied Laura���s hands. “Must be some fun stuff in there.”

Laura dropped her gaze, examining the prickly desert burs caught in the laces of her boots. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Where’re you from?”

“Silverton.” Laura sighed. “Listen, my mother’s name is Eva Alvez, and I suppose you ought to send someone to inform her of this.” Her mother was not going to be pleased with her, but better someone else broke the news first.

“You’re Senator Alvez’s girl?” said the Guardian, scanning her. “Oh yeah, I see it. Looks like the spikefruit fell a few miles from the tree, huh?” She paused to chuckle at her own joke. “Let’s getcha back to Silverton, then.”

The Guardian took her to the Rift station, which was fortunately quiet this time of night. There were still just enough people around to stare uncomfortably, though, as Laura’s chaperone took her to the front of the line and received clearance to the gate labeled ZASSK–SILVERTON.

Rift gates were the fastest way to travel long distances, and the only way to travel between realms. Suspended within a metal archway, the gate was a translucent, rippling surface, like an upright pool of water. Peering into it, Laura could just make out the blurred figures of people milling about on the other side.

She stepped through, momentarily engulfed in the familiar staticky sensation. Her skin prickled fuzzily, and not a second later, she was in the Rift station in Silverton, the capital city of the Republic and her hometown.

The Guardian led Laura to the local Guard post, though her feet reluctantly carried her there on their own. To her chagrin, astonished faces greeted her as her comrades realized tonight’s offender was one of their own. Pointedly avoiding eye contact, she let herself be escorted into the holding room, not at all in the mood to explain.

The small room was furnished with a half-dozen chairs, a low table offering a few recent copies of Republic News Weekly, and an off-white Glow lamp fixed high on the wall. In all of her years working here, she’d never known how stiff these chairs were.

Time crawled in the silence, making her acutely aware of her pounding headache and the smarting scrape on her temple. Not to mention the constant self-reminders that, for all the trouble she’d gone to tonight, she’d come away empty handed after all.

I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll get that lyusk root for you somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Here's the full intro for the book if you're interest in learning more about it!

Tagging @thelaughingstag 🦌🙂

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 7)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 6

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Your life was on the edge again as you were close to being sold to men in their dimension. With a kind and selfless heart; you've tried saving Cirilla. Though, despite of the failure of a rescue, a certain witcher wouldn't let you stay in danger as he came to your aid and massacred whoever comes in his way. Thus, he'd recognized the person holding you and it made him curse deep beneath his breath as he remembered what he wanted from him after years of avoiding them for their regal favors.

Warnings: Gore. (I’ve added a gif that kinda..ugh. You get my point. Hehehe.) Death. Swords. Curse words. Modern references. Hehehe. Blood. Anger. More descriptions than dialogues. (I mean, who fights while talking? XD Also, it’s Geralt. You know how he is. XD) Assholes selling women/children.

Words: 6.3k+

A/N: Chapter 7 is out now! I've used Gifs of Geralt while the story goes on. Heehee! Just wanted to. IT’S GETTIN’ LIT IN HERE. AYEEEE!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

It took a narrow, derelict looking alleyway for Cirilla and her friend to be found. This was why you never trusted kids playing alone because they needed supervision at all times. There were black, grey and brown stone build houses designed for the outmoded era surrounding the alley.

You taciturnly stood in the middle of the dirt ground, scanning the whole place and finding a kid who wore a light blue kirtle. The sound of sand and gravel was apparent as you've taken conniving steps till you were about to enter another aisle that looked deserted. But, you were stopped as a silhouette of two men who wore dark brown furry sheep coats emerge from the gully.

The man holding Cirilla had a horrible beard looking like the man in the movie 300 with a sly smirk that could get you to know that he was part of the villains in a show while the other was a blonde chevalier that can pass as the prince's bodyguard.

They had sharp looking daggers across the children's necks and it made your heart cease because of the panic rising through your head. Yet, you try to calm down to make better decisions.

Not that it was a habit. You were bad a making decisions; look at how your life ended. Forgetting why you were drowning on a lake and suddenly emerging from another dimension like you had your next life in just a snap of Thanos' gauntlet.

"Nice, very nice." you mindlessly mumbled, avoiding their scowls and grins; giving the kids a once over as you've seen the fear straight out of their eyes.

There were no guns, anything to use for defense nor do you know any kung-fu that can make Jackie Chan watch you with popcorn on his hands.

You were currently a useless human especially that you were teleported with no supernatural powers or magic. What a nice way to be brought to a world you didn't know and had people who are experts in brutal fighting.

"Why, why, why," The man looking like King Leonidas mischievously announced as he tightened his hold around Cirilla and held the dagger close to her neck. The princess shrieked and growled before him, struggling against his hold as you winced at your mind who couldn't help but utter the most awkward sentences in panic.

"Delilah?" your nose scrunched so hard you were sure you looked constipated. It was a pun, and so it wasn't the best as you couldn't help but cringe for your stupidity.

"Ain't she a beaut," The blonde knight cackled as he strolled towards a wooden cage that can be used for lions or any feisty animal as Ethelia was dragged and locked in like a fauna being pulled around; never forgetting to give Cirilla's friend a pinch to her delicate cheeks as she flinched away from the asshole.

"Don't hurt Ethelia!" Cirilla struggled against her captor's arms, but he tightened his hold around her a lot more, "---Get her out of the cage!"

You've squinted your eyes at the large cage where Ethelia has been violently captured and saw not only one but a dozen of children taken to their account. Some were grubby and clean, though that one thing that made them all the same was that they were women.

They were freaking women and you definitely saw red because they all seemed innocent with all their wailing and bloodshot eyes.

The princess has managed to bite Tybalt on the arm; making the latter grab onto her roots brutally, igniting a frightened scream out of Cirilla, "You are next to this wench that shall be offered to the king!"

Thus, her screams made your palms sweat. You needed to do something and not just stand there like an idiot.

Tybalt's attention was suddenly turned to you; cocking his head to the side as smugly as he could, giving you a menacing grin that gave you the nervous shivers.

"---Or not?"

"Leave the child alone!" you suddenly had the courage to muster out loud; but it was no use as it didn't sound frightening for the party. Tybalt aimed the sharp edge of his dagger along Cirilla's neck as he moved them both forward, his appearance more discernable from the sudden cloudy day as he stepped outside his shadows. "---If it isn't another whore that I could sell to the duke,"

You could see how tall he was and utterly buff just like Geralt. His face was a complete epitome of a bandit as you noticed those sharp fangs and thinking he just had that type of teeth,  "---Your beauty...Only passes for a knight's whore,"

Well, that sounded mean.

Tybalt continued, keeping Cirilla steady in the width of his arms as the child went on to struggle against his hold, her movements accidentally giving her a short slice of a wound that you quickly saw. Crimson liquid dripping down her neck like a breeze; not much, yet it was enough to give a wince, "---not for a king," the latter continued as he gave a low baleful laugh.

He'd studied you from head to toe, his gaze utterly making you feel uncomfortable. It was obvious that it consists of obscene thoughts running inside his brain. You couldn't help but feel your sweat turn cold from the panic you were feeling, "You are one short fella'! But, also kind of adorable like a dirty mouse not even worth for a penny,"

"Don't--Don't touch her," you stammered, biting on the insides of your lips as you tried thinking quicker. His wicked plans and diabolic ideas inside his head were enough to make your knees tremble; like you were being hunted by an Alghoul for the second time. You always had the luck in being involved with such ill-fate circumstances and it was making you crazy. Tybalt loudly scoffed, brown eyes glowing with malevolence and his smile turning sinister, "What are ye' going to do, little one? Cry like a bairn?"

The princess breathed in deep breaths, her heart beat running as fast as a cheetah. She'd gave you a look and you could quite see that she was deep in thought. Was Jaskier lying about her abilities? Was she a mutated one as well? Were the men holding her the Elvens?

"Cirilla," you subtly shook your head to distract her from doing anything that could give you both more peril than it should have.

"I can bring your little friend and this woman," Tybalt gestured to you and it made you step back; nevertheless, more of his bandits marched into view and roughly grabbed onto your arms, leaving you no chance to escape as you've tried to battle from their hold. "---Ethelia has been sold to the king by her father who had killed one of his knights. You know how King Viduka loves his knights,"

You wrestled against their hold. Two men strenghtened their grasp on you; rooting you to the ground as they were pretty much stronger, lanky and muscly with their fur coats. They were laughing on either side of you because of how you were struggling, "What is your name?" Tybalt drawled his words like a snake teasing his prey.  

You loudly huffed and tried to wrench your arm away from both as you breathed hard; languidly feeling as if you were having a panic attack. It was there; again and it wasn't the right time, "You don't want me dropping down memes, I swear. I'm close to screaming John Cena," pause. "---You're gonna hate me, King Leonidas." A small guiltless smile was given to Cirilla's captor and it was enough to infuriate him because of how you didn't make sense.

Out of the blue, Tybalt unceremoniously pushed the princess off the ground; giving both his men that stood on either side of you a look as they roughly pushed you to him; passing you like a tennis ball as he caught you in his arms. You shrieked and have your heart flying off your chest as the chess piece suddenly moved and you were now their target.

Cirilla coughed her shock out of her chest; face scrubbing the ground which soiled her pretty face as she crawled and trembled away from you; sitting on her backside as she had her eyes focused on the the whole scene; thoroughly staggered at the sudden shift of victims.

Tybalt had his fingers grabbing onto your roots like a bitch; making you yelp as loud as you can to get anyone's attention from the other side of the city. But, no. There was no saviour. "Nobody owns ye', little scrubber! Come, to the palace!" he mercilessly yanked you with a handful of your hair, painfully dragging you to where the cages for humans stayed behind them; covered with a thick brown cloth for decency purposes if they even have dignity in their bloods.

"There's a place for little whores like ye'!" The other man who held you on the arm announced in a snobbish manner; ending his statement with a mirthful laugh that petrified you because of how presumptuous they were to find their actions fine for their world.

Your nerves were spiking up like a sparking electric circuit. The more closer you forcefully strided towards the cage, the more your emotions was flying up the sky. Adding the pain that Tybalt has been pouring on your roots was triggering your sensitive self to shed some tears from the fear of being sold by some dirty, old man who treats women like some kind of doll to relieve their sexual pleasures.

The lioness of Cintra dreaded the moment to see you walking towards a cage full of women going to be sold to different people. She couldn't do anything but think of ways that could get time ticking before Geralt could feel that there was something wrong. Accepting the fear of not saving you will never die down; if she would've not tried to help as she was saved by you.

Cirilla stood on her soles, feet shaking like a leaf as she had both hands in front; halting the forceful kidnap happening, "No! Stop! A man owns her with the name, Geralt! Geralt owns her! Geralt of Rivia! The Butcher of Blaviken!"

All men had their brows in a twist, tugging you back and making you face her. You were wincing and tears were falling from the hopeless feeling; it was much better to be living in their family rather than another man's home whom could have the power in owning you like a damn animal.

Tybalt jibed at the princess, poking fun at the lies she was saying. The name rang a bell; it was a name that they've been searching for so long but have been considered as a myth that isn't real. They've had their latest witcher be killed by a lethal beast. This known Witcher that they have been searching was no where to be found for years after years; or he just didn't want to be found was more of a logical reason at the same time.

"The Witcher?" he belittled with a grin, "---He's long gone, child. Hiding like a birdie! Cease your fantasy in having a witcher in the Kingdom of Kaedwen! We will all be killed by beasts! Just like them!"

Your captor tightened his hand on your head, giving it a sting that made you shriek. You didn't want to grow bald because of this. It was humiliating; you thought at the back of your mind as you sobbed from the fright. Tybalt inserted his dagger back in his pocket and swiftly opened the cloth to reveal ten children scared to death or even more, "This dirty maiden can be more useful than this lioness of a kid! It bites and roars too much!"

Thus, you never know how satisfying it was to hear a strum of a lute from afar. The echo resonated from the far end as you whipped around in zealous. Your heart beat coming to life as the hope flew back to where it should've been.

"That...is definitely not a good idea,"

Jaskier. There was Jaskier. Only Jaskier, but no Geralt. Still, it gave you a ton of hope to be saved.

"A bard," Tybalt rolled his eyes from all the pathetic interruption. Just getting you was thoroughly time consuming and he didn't know if he was already regretting it. He should be, when he's got his foot six feet on the ground already by touching Cirilla and you.

The bard stood where you could clearly see him. You eyed him with that agitated look. Nevertheless, he'd given you a cheeky wink as he continued to strum; his foot signalling Cirilla to take her flight and leave the hell hole before the men even had second thoughts of grabbing her again.

Hence, she hurriedly did; with a need to find the witcher.

You knew what Jaskier was doing. You've seen this in the movies for a lot of times. Some ended well while some didn't.

He was distracting Tybalt and his men. Hence, the bard was doing a damn great job at it because of how he was great at not showing his anxiety and trembles from being stabbed or beheaded like he was already...used to the thrill and danger.

"Get out of my way!" Tybalt frustratingly barked; giving him a nasty glare, "You are making the massive mistake ever---," Jaskier articulated, sounding like he was telling a story as he sounded informative and factual.

"---You are plotting your own demise, Berk."

The nickname was a wrong move for Jaskier. He'd wince after seeing Tybalt's nose flare like a dragon in heat. Now, it was the perfect time you've seen his fingers stop from strumming his lute and actually seeing the little tremble from his fingers.

He was doing good; so good, but he had to just insult the guy and let the mistakes flow.

You've sniffed and felt the tears have subsided. Eyes thoroughly bloodshot as well because of how you've felt the man holding you captive exhale a breath of vexation. Tybalt was mad.

Which gave you a reason to mouth at the bard that he had only one job, one job and he ruined it.

"What did you just call me?" Tybalt seethed like there was fire coming out of his mouth. Forehead creased to the extent that he was tempted for his horns to come out. "Ughm," Jaskier spluttered, eyes rolling elsewhere as he heard footsteps coming closer from behind.

"I'm--I'm--I'm just actually uttering out the most foolish things ever! Just wasting time until a witcher has your head in a platter or more so; cut in half!" Jaskier spun around and saw those two men who has held you was now treading near and his eyes wanted to come out of his eye sockets when he'd seen them scowling.

A tiny shriek came out of the bard as he swallowed his nervousness and swiftly spun and kept his lute behind him.

You've felt Tybalt shifting behind you; fishing for his dagger as you'd remember it from a while ago. "There are no more witchers in this kingdom," he harshly spat with spite, "---If so, Sorceress Ingrith and I would've found him and asked for help,"

The bard halted from backing away from the two men who wanted to corner him, peeking back at Tybalt as his back felt the stone walls and they were looming before him. "What?"

"---So, just let me take her, bard!"

Jaskier was swift enough to dodge out of being cornered, quickly jogging to where you were at arms reach from him as he had his hands on his hips; still having the time to be sassy after being threatened. "No, no! You cannot take her! I second the notion and refuse for you to take her!"

Those two bandits who had eyes on him unsheathed their swords from behind. He'd heard the metal slash out of its home as he felt the tip of the sword from one man on the edge of his neck; like a warning to shut his flowery mouth from even saying anything less.

"Impossible! You are close to being beheaded!" Tybalt scoffed, cackling as he saw the bard tap his foot in anxiety when he'd seen another pair of Tybalt's men emerge from behind you. Jaskier was thinking and also having an internal monologue of feeling the adrenaline rush. There were more; maybe a maximum of nine people who came with the kidnapping monster.

"Oh gods, where is Geralt when we need him," Jaskier mumbled to himself and calmly breathed out of his nose; languidly closing his eyes to keep him from panicking out loud.

Yet, the bard couldn't control it and began to yell for help.

"Fuck!---GERALT! This is no time for your bone aching moments because of how senile you are! You are certainly getting old when you want me bleeding after this just to rescue your darn midget!"

Jaskier was heaving deep breaths as he was having his panic attacks right now. He stared at you with hysteria and thinking if Geralt didn't come too early, he would already be beheaded. You swallowed the fear stuck in your throat for the third time around; patiently waiting for your demise that you had been wishing on the first day but was now dreading the idea of it when you had lived in for days in their dimension.

You thought it would take hours for the witcher to find you; or even days after being captured. But, seeing him make an appearance as he finally turned a corner was the best feeling you've ever felt.

Now, you know how it feels to be captured then saved by a man who lives in your fantasy. It felt utterly fulfilling and joyous. Specially, when he'd cautiously trudged along with that brooding facade he had.

You were elated to see him; huffing out a breath you were holding for far too long. Too happy as you were saved for the second time; having a chance to live for the second time.

"Geralt! Oh gods, great timing!" Jaskier yelped when a man roughly kept him still. The witcher came with nothing but his bag of sword strapped behind him and his brooding charm, his anger obvious on his face and a humorless expression.

"Fuck," thus, he deeply snarled beneath his chest; knowing what was bound to happen.

A look you have never seen before; ever. Hence, it was a facial expression you didn't want to encounter because it was as if you felt like he wouldn't bat an eyelid to everyone who would come his way and end up creating a massacre.

It technically resembles the look of destruction.

Geralt stood on the middle of the area, a few meters away from you; thoroughly calm and collected but with a stony-face you didn't want to poke on. Shoulders and chest puffed to an extent that screams strength and resilience. He'd given Jaskier a once over to check if he was okay and based on how talkative he still was; the bard was totally fine.

Then, he'd taken a look at you. Those golden eyes were blazing with indignation. His forehead slowly creasing together so tightly as he realized Tybalt's fingers grabbing onto your roots; a shiny dagger catching his eye that was hidden behind your clothing. Your attention right on the witcher as you didn't realize that it was painstakingly lifting Geralt's tunic in which you wore as the asshole grinned back at him with devilry.

"What took you so long?!" Jaskier still managed to hollered out loud. But, took no answer from the witcher as he squinted his eyes at you who was held captive.

You felt the cold, brisk wind hit your thighs; lately realizing that Tybalt was playing with your clothes like the debauched man that he is as he was slowly lifting the damn tunic and making people see your black underwear which made the man eyed it weirdly. Your heart was hammering out of your chest as you stared back at the witcher who was sending a grimace at the man behind you.

Your eyes was pleading for him to come and get you. Geralt knew and could see it in your eyes and it was making his blood boil for everyone.

"The infamous witcher," Tybalt announced in shock. The tip of his dagger probing at the side of your hip like a warning to never move. Geralt hoarsely gave a groan deep within his chest, languorously unsheathing his sword from behind him and never shifting his eyes away from you.

“---He’d finally shown himself to us! Perhaps, you really aren’t just an epic created by the blue-eyed dunce!” 

The men who held Jaskier was foolishly eyeing the witcher with their faces twisted like they couldn't believe what they were seeing. They've seen his face in the parchment paper that they had. Though, Geralt was considered as a myth that was never true. To Jaskier's luck, it was the right time to snatch the blade from one who has held it loosely; spinning on his heel and aiming the nib on his neck with an awkward stance. A triumphant grin given from the bard as his friend continued to gawk at the witcher like he'd seen the heavens.

"We've been finding yer' kind!" Tybalt grinned from ear to ear, feeling the tine of his whetted dagger pointed on top of your hip bone and you felt your blood rise from the adrenaline starting to take over. Your feet shuffled and it took one move for him to yank at your roots that was already throbbing from the soreness, "---Or a particular one! Long white hair, brooding and a stubborn arsehole who keeps on rejecting the king's favors like some notable man!"

You can feel Tybalt sniffing out loud, thus a loud shriek came out of you when he'd vulgarly dropped his head to inhale your scent in between the pillar of your neck which made your face twist in utter disgust because of how peculiar he was acting; like a vampire in the movies who couldn't get enough of your scent. "Oh, hell no! You're no Edward Cullen! I'm also no Bella! You don't glimmer against the sunlight and you're not as pale as I think you are!" you were terror-struck from his actions and tried to fight away from his face that was strapped on the edges of your neck and suddenly felt canines teasing that part of your neck where he wanted to bite, "---OH MY GOD, A VAMPIRE! PLEASE DON'T BITE MY NECK! NOBODY HAS DONE IT YET!"

All hell broke loose as Tybalt plunged his mouth on your neck like a deprived creature; but not giving a bite. Thus, his men rashly took charge from the moment Geralt lifted a foot as he fully drew his blade out from behind; including the man who'd tried threatening Jaskier; leaving the other weaponless man to the bard as they both looked at each other in wonder.

The witcher knew Tybalt was a vampire. A higher one. He sensed it and he knew him.

A knight from the palace was the first to pounce on the witcher with persistence, lunging after Geralt as he dodged his attack and stabbed him from the back with no penitence. His focal point on you and his senses were heightened a lot more than it ever does with a will to keep you from harm.

Without even batting an eyelid, the witcher was aware of the men ambushing him one by one. Second man who had an unlucky fate tried to strike a blow to his upper leg but the witcher was more skilled than the latter and shielded the attack by his sword; the loud metallic retorts when the blades collide with one another, it was ringing in your ears as you felt Tybalt licking a stripe from your nape to your jaw, making you shiver from disgust.

You shrieked out loud as you felt so gross from his ministrations; but never taking your eyes off Geralt who managed to skillfully dodge all blows from the fighters like a virtuoso as he stabbed them to anywhere they were vulnerable and fatal; giving them no chance to live. There was blood, lots of bloodshed happening as Tybalt cackled from behind you; watching his men be killed with one stab of the witcher's sword; amputating them with no pangs of conscience.

He was that dedicated that he'd assassinated five of his men without a blink of his eye.

You've felt the dagger poke at your sides, and you were too distracted on watching the witcher edge closer to where you were as he fought men. You didn't feel Tybalt stabbing you on the hip; not fully sheathing it inside you but it was enough to ignite a loud cry that made Geralt stop and snap his head away from the previous attacker as he fought him off, his Aurum eyes narrowing as he gruffly growled to himself and saw Crimson dripping from your hip to your thigh; tears dripping down the sides of your eyes when you've felt the excruciating pain sting like a damn train hitting you on the face.

Tybalt took a loud whiff as the pungy, metallic smell wafted through the air; from you and from his men that Geralt have slaughtered; his eyes burning you as it has been on you since the start of the fight. "She smells different," your captor mirthfully foretold to the witcher who was quick to cast a sign towards a charging man with a mere use of his palm and it was enough to make you breath hitch as it seemed to look like he just used a spell. It was magic. The man propelled backwards as his head hit the stone wall; knocking him out.  

So, magic really does happen in their world. You silently thought to yourself.

The dagger was slowly being dragged out and it even hurt more than it ever should. You sobbed and felt your knees weakening from the pain because of how low your pain tolerance was. Tybalt dragged the dagger to his mouth, his sharp, long tongue giving himself a little taste of your blood, "---Even tastes different," he grinned, inhaling deep as your focus was on the witcher who penetratingly stabbed a man's mouth; slashing him open in between his head without regret with blood splashing his face and on the ground he stood. His focus on exterminating who comes in his way. Your face was twisting in a cringe by the pain on your hip and by also seeing the gore happening around the area made by the witcher.

"---Witcher got himself a bizarre woman!" Your captor announced out loud with a laugh when Geralt was finally close enough. Assassinating every bit of his men into lifeless dolls.

No exhaustion was written on his face except for the sweat. There were splutters of human blood soiling his dashing features. He'd relaxed his stance and had his hands on either side of him, palms on show but the other holding his sword, yielding it away from your captor, yet still showing sign that he wouldn't be doing any more violence.

Jaskier had managed to kick the unarmored man with his foot and hit the butt of the sword on the latter's head, knocking him unconscious as he scanned the whole area with a terrified look on his face.

It was a complete massacre.

The witcher had his eyes solely on you; your eyelashes batting languidly when you've taken a good look at your brawny savior and felt yourself turn jello from the blood pouring out of you. You didn't know if it was already hallucination but there was anger, dismay and fear pouring out of those blazing, golden peepers like he'd already seen the whole event, hoping it wouldn't end the way it was before.

"I take what's mine," Geralt rasped and firmly pressed with that low baritone of his. If one was aware of his change of emotions, you could hear how earnest he sounded as he took cautious steps closer; facial expressions still apathetic and non-readable for the people who sees him. The witcher kept his mouth closed as he breathed and looked away, before keeping a weather eye on you again. His half-tied hair disheveled, dirty and looking greasy from the sweat.

"---Release her," It was a demand from the witcher himself. An ultimatum sent as you've noticed Geralt's fingers tightly wrap around the handle of his silver sword; like he was trying hard not to stab Tybalt who stood behind you because he had you shackled.

Tybalt noticed Geralt who was stealthy prowling to reach you up close and so, he'd positioned his dagger across your neck as you heaved breaths; yanking your head back to show Geralt that he wouldn't think twice in slitting you dead. The witcher was quick to cease his steps when he was a meter away from you; tightly keeping his lips in a straight line as he exhaled a frustrated breath.

"The king will be delighted to see you," Tybalt deliberately observed the witcher from head to foot, shaking his head in disbelief that it only took one woman to kidnap for him to reveal himself from hiding. Your breathing was staggered as you blinked repeatedly back at the witcher as his nose was scrunched to his discontent for everything, "I don't have time for your royal shit," he seethed back at the man; giving him a tight scowl.

Tybalt frowned back at Geralt, feeling the tip of his dagger heavily pressing against the pulse on your neck;  making you whimper, "---But, you wasted your time on killing my men for this useless wench, Witcher."

"She's...She's a different case," The witcher trailed off as you felt his stare on your face, definitely pining than it ever intended to before he'd given the stink eye to the vampire holding you captive, "---I don't want anything to do with the castle,"

"The prince is slowly losing himself, reaching his demise," Tybalt stressed; worried about the royal family whom he was devoted to for already a decade. Geralt scoffed back with a rude remark, "I don't have anything to do with any of their horseshit, Tybalt. I wasn't the witch who have cursed prince Althalos,"

He said his name out loud, catching you off guard as you peered back at the witcher with an intrigued haze of your bloodshot eyes because he knew him.

"You witchers are fucking useless!" Tybalt groaned and loudly sneered before violently fishing out his dagger. Geralt knew what he was about to do and your life held no value for Tybalt as he had no second thoughts on ending you with a stab to the chest.

Yet, from the moment Tybalt held the dagger over your chest; the witcher was fast enough to cast a sign towards the both of you; dragging you from the force as you were pushed off in the air. Though, Geralt was immediate enough to catch you around your wrist, pulling you to him before you could even fall flat on the ground.

The witcher secured his musclebound arms around you, his sky scraping height thoroughly used as your support as you were holding him for dear life. You didn't know how comforting his warmth was when he carefully sat you down against the stone walls as your vision was starting to spin a horizon.

"Ge...Geralt," you whispered as you heave for long breaths, tightly closing your eyes as you tried to take a good look at the witcher who was crouched in front of you; examining your face for more injuries and too dizzy to realized that he'd tuck a disheveled strand of your hair away from your face to observe your status.

You were probably losing blood, having a panic attack and feeling weak from the stab wound.

Your eyes were just straightaway staring at the witcher; seeing his face contort into pure rancor and you tried to smile despite of the pain. It took a kidnapping for him to finally notice you or even care in giving you his attention and you wanted to laugh by how you needed to shed blood for the witcher to care like this.

It looked entirely pleasing and also satisfying to see him care.

"I'm okay! J-Just bleeding--??" it was a yelp as you tried to move your hips and felt your muscles spasm as it gave you another strike of excruciating pain; making you moan and whimper; looking away from Geralt to inspect the cages for the poor children still in the background.

Jaskier finally got off on his feet, running towards where you were and you've seen him crouch beside the witcher with a look of panic and worry. Never uttering a word as his mind was in a mess at all the blood that was flowing. You languidly blinked; trying to fight off from fainting because you didn't want to fall unconscious. The heat from Geralt's palm cupping your face forcefully made you take a look at him and his expressions were unreadable as per usual, "The...The children,"

Geralt couldn't help but sigh; his face frowning from your words. Despite of being wounded and on the verge of fainting, you were still selfless enough to ask to release the children from their cage. Jaskier blinked at the image in front of him. The witcher was cupping your cheek as he worriedly stared into your eyes and the bard needed to blink to stop himself from watching; lifting himself off his feet to answer your requests. "I-I'll free them!"

The Ivory haired man checked your wounds; seeing Carmine liquid dripping from the wound like a slightly open faucet with every breath you take; staining his dark Tunic till blood was dripping down your unclothed thighs. He'd stood on his feet as he was sure to leave you in a position that would lessen for the blood to spill, his angered; golden eyes scanning the area as to where Tybalt was. But, to his dismay...He was gone.

"Worry no more, children or...women! The witcher has saved the day! Come on now!" the bard hooted as he freed the children; noticing some were teenagers and actually close to being young adults. Some of the women gasped at his words because of the fact that they were saved by a monster slayer who was only capable of taking lives and continued to gawk at the witcher who stood in the middle of the area; seeming to be in a deep contemplation within himself.

Geralt closed his eyes to try and get a scent from the vampire. Though, none. It was never found as the metallic scent of your blood has heightened it all; including those he have exterminated. A low grumble vibrated out of his chest as he sheathed his sword and kept it strapped on his back again despite of all the blood it had.

He thought Tybalt wouldn't have lasted long in the castle; even having the luck on earning a spot in the military forces despite of doing all the dirty work for the royalties. His hatred for the vampire growing back in a bigger fire; adding more wrath because he'd butchered the witcher that worked for the king last time because of certain purposes.

It wasn't a little later that you were being carried in somebody's arms. Based on the long hair hitting your face and the strong scent of blood, you knew it was Geralt. Your arms were feebly encircling his neck as you closed your eyes, fighting off from being knocked out. "I...don't...want to sleep," you saplessly whispered to the witcher who was talking to Jaskier and asking if remembers the healer that was close from the city.

You didn't want to sleep because you were worried that when you wake up, he would be back in being distant again; that everything that has happened was all a dream, being carried and saved by Geralt for the second time as he even had the look that he cared and not actually feel as if you were a baggage to their family.

Your forehead leaned on the witcher's neck as you could feel yourself smile as he'd hummed to inform you that he was listening; putting his attention solely on you alone, "I...I...didn't do anything...mean, right?" you continued to question and whispered against his neck, the beat of your heart skipping a beat despite of how shallow it was sounding right now.

Geralt exhaled a deep breath, giving you the side eye as he tried to peer down at you but it was impossible as you hid on the corner of his neck. A weak smile lifting your lips as you continued and felt your head so light; the words coming out of your mouth completely like a whistle of the wind as you accepted the daydream of talking your thoughts out in the open, "I..I...don't want you hating me..and I don't want you avoiding me...at all costs," the vulnerability of your words can be heard. You were too weak to even feel Geralt swallow that uncomfortable but equitable feeling down his throat as he strode past people who were looking at you in bafflement.

It took one last sigh before Geralt felt your head fall in between his neck in unconsciousness and for the first time, ever again. The witcher was scared.

Thus, you were sure you were thoroughly fond of his presence. As if, you were surprisingly taking more than a liking to a witcher without your consent and unbeknownst to your conscience, it has always been from the start as destiny made it out to be.

SO, I WAS SCREAMING WHEN GERALT SAID ‘I TAKE WHAT’S MINE’ (GERALT, YOU CAN TAKE ME HOWEVER YOU WANT---OOPS) OTHER THAN THE WORD FUCK THAT HE ALWAYS SAYS. *sCREAMS* WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS FOR THIS CHAPTER, TATER TOTSSSS!!?!?!?

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​​ @vania-marie​​ @spookypeachx​​ @grungelovebug​​ @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernatural​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ 

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Guardians of the Creatures; AU! Queen x reader Prologue

*Author’s note*

Hey gang I know this year has been INSANE but I am here to tell you all that I’ve now got my next upcoming Halloween FIC series ready at the helm. Now it’ll be slightly similar to my last Hallowqueen fic series (it being in 2nd person POV after this chapter), with some differences.

Now then I wish to give credit to @kinole009x​ for allowing me to use the same physical appearance that they made for our beloved Deacy in their fabulous series “NEVERMORE” (which you ALL should check out if you haven’t read it. Trust me, you will LOVE IT!!). 

Now Idk when the next chapter will be up cause work is REALLY starting to pile up on me now. But I promise this fic series WILL go on, I won’t abandon it after this. I’ve got plans for this series. Enjoy my lovelies and I hope you all enjoy this new HALLOWQUEEN series :)

Warnings: Blood, dark magic, evil witches and wizards, close-to-death experience.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@dancingcoolcat​

@kinole009x​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@klausidiot​

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I……Am the eyes of the world.  I can see the past—and the future.  Chaos, and darkness.  The end of the world, and the rebirth of it.  My people have been around since the beginning of time itself.  But with the birth of so many creatures, my kind couldn’t survive.  Except for me.  Who am I you might ask? It is I—Freddie Mercury, who witnessed the rise of creatures, and men.

I’ve seen the world continuously trying to survive with the rise of each new species of the world.  And it is here that I have seen a darkness of which no one would ever see before.

Look into my eyes—and trust in me.

There are many dangerous creatures that live within our world. For a certain time period there were were-creatures, Elves, faes, goblins, dragons, mer-people, and all those creatures you would believe to be in your fairy tales and mythologies.  But the most dangerous creature of the time wasn’t man.  

But Witches. Warlocks. And Sorcerers.

I’ve seen generations of these creatures slaughtering and imprisoning other creatures.  And breaking the mythical creatures ancient laws.

And then—one fateful night. I saw our world place our hopes into the hands of two people, the like of which—no one would ever suspect.

*3rd Person POV*

Flying through the dark midnight sky was a cloaked figure and in his arms he held a young woman close to his chest.  He dove down as fast as he could to the ground knowing full well that he couldn’t continue flying anymore, not with the woman now starting to cough out blood.  

When he finally reached the ground, he picked up the woman and gently set her down on the ground.

“Lumos.” He softly whispered.  His hand soon made a light, about the size of a star, appear in his hand. His pale skin could only be compared to the white glow of the moon, while his long jet black hair framed his face and his black eyebrows arched with both fear and concerned for the woman that lay beneath him.

As he shined the light upon the young woman he could now see that blood had now stained her once pink lips.  Her sclera was now starting to bleed red and she was coughing out even more blood.

“Serafina. Oh my darling Serafina please hold on.” He pleaded softly as he cupped the side of her cheek.  Piercing through the air was a maniacal female laugh.  Thinking quickly he made the light from his hand vanish and he covered both himself and Serafina with his black cloak.

High above the air riding on their own brooms a swarm of witches were flying over the air.  One of them in particular had curly madded hair (that almost resembled a lion’s mane), she wore a long black dress that was a mix of fabric but also leather that made a corset-like shape around her midriff.  She took the lead alongside five witches and four wizards.  

All of them wearing black and baring a snake tattoo along their necks.

“They’re not here cousin!” hissed a ginger haired witch.

“Keep searching for them. They’re around here somewhere. That spell I gave her will buy us some time to catch up to them. There’s no way he’d leave her behind.” She cackled softly before flying on ahead with the eight other witches and wizards following her.

Once the coast was clear, the young wizard removed his cloak from the two of them and he slowly picked up Serafina.

“We’re gonna have to travel by foot. I’m sorry my love.”

“John.” She croaked out before suddenly coughing out more blood.

“Shh, shh, shh. Save your strength my love.” He soothed her as he rested her head against his shoulder so that he could press his head against hers.  He trudged on through the thick forest, all the while his love continuously coughing out more blood.  

He knew that if he didn’t at least find a way to slow down the curse that had been bestowed upon her, she would continue to bleed out internally until she died.

After walking for god knows how long, he set her down in a decent sized thicket.  He gave her his cloak and lay down some twigs, grass and leaves before muttering out a quick spell to make them into a pillow.  He lay her head on the pillow and stroked her dark hair out of her face.

“I’ll be back my love, I’m going to find some ingredients to slowdown her curse.” He went to stand up but Serafina grabbed his hand and weakly said.

“Don’t…….go……John.” he looked down at her with sympathy and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.” He covered her up more with his cloak then casted a protection charm around her, in case either the witches or anything else dangerous were to come by.

John raced through the woods hoping to find some familiar herbs that could hopefully be brewed up.  He searched and searched but he wasn’t having any luck, and he could hear every now and then the haunting piercing manically laugh of the head witch leading the hunt for them.

It wasn’t until finally when he arrived by a small creek and he had found the perfect healing herb for his love.  To some it was known as Athelas plant but in the common tongue it was called Kingsfoil.  A weed but it had healing properties.

He took out his wand and shifted it into a small knife and went to cut the root, when he heard a strange sound coming from the creek.  A hypnotic, siren-like song soon began to echo through the air.  John turned towards the creek and was shocked to suddenly see a hand burst out from the water.

Slowly a body began to rise up over the water.  The body was pure water at first until it finally dissolved and morph into an actual human skin.  The man that now stood before John was handsome.  Beyond handsome actually.

Almost as if he had been carved by the Gods himself.  His wild, untamed blonde hair shone under the full moon’s light, and his hypnotic deep blue eyes stared right at John curiously. But when John took a closer look and saw the long claw-like nails, the gills along his neck (that almost looked like deep scars), and the fact that his eyes were inhuman with how they were just pure blue and white, he realized just what this man was.

This was a Nokk.  A water spirit said to be a handsome man that is known to lure women and children to their deaths by either singing or playing a sweet song before drowning them.  They are also known to be shapeshifters going between a handsome man, or a beautiful white horse.  Tempting all that see him in his horse form to ride him before sending them to a watery grave.

Little did he know that while staring at the Nokk, he soon felt a long sword blade slide right down his neck.  Thankfully it wasn’t the actual blade of the sword itself, it lay flat against his neck but it still sent fear through him.

“What do we have here? A wizard caught off his guard?” a soft, honey-like voice spoke with a sternness to it.

“Please, I mean no harm. My Serafina needs help.” At hearing that name, the Nokk’s eyes went from defensive and anger to concern and worry.

“Serafina you said?” the voice behind John spoke.

“Yes. Please I don’t have much time, I need to get this Athelas to her. She’ll die without it!” John then whipped out his wand and turned the sword blade into a stick.

He quickly turned around and held his wand at the attack only to soon find out that his ‘attacker’ wasn’t who he thought it was.

This man had curly hair that resembled an animal of some kind, but unlike the witch they were hiding from, his hair was tamed and well kept. John also took notice of the man’s attire and the ears that stuck out from his hair.  It was then he realized just who this person was.

“You—you’re an Elf.” the Elf closed his eyes and did a faint nod as he hummed, a hum that sounded like the faint wind.

“Brian May. High Elf Lord of the West. We were also told of your arrival by a friend of ours. He can help her.”

“Just who is your friend?”

“I can sense your hesitance.” Brian spoke.

“Of course I’m hesitant! We’re being hunted by our own cult! My love is dying and I’m sitting here in the dark forest with an Elf and a Nokk!” the Nokk lowly growled that’s when Brian lifted his hand and said.

“Quilda Roger, quilda.” The Nokk named Roger softened his growls but continued to glare at John. “As you’ve said we don’t have much time. Please allow us to help you heal her. And take her to our friend who is a healer.”

“I thought Elves were known to be the best healers?” John asked.

“We are. But by the time we would reach my kingdom it’ll be too late to save her. Our friend is the closest for he lives in the Black forest.” Not being given much choice, John agreed and led both Brian and Roger to where his love was.

Serafina continued to wheeze out her breaths and occasionally coughing up more blood.  And either it must’ve been the curse having a side effect, or due to the pressure on her brain, she saw this blinding light coming up towards her.

She turned and there she saw a horse running up towards her and the glowing figure rode on top of the magnificent creature.  Skillfully it unmounted from the horse before walking towards her.  Finally she could see a man who was too ethereal to look upon.

His tall lean frame, the pale skin, and the halo of curls almost made him look like an angel.  His piercing blue eyes stared right down at her, almost as if they were piercing her very soul.  He knelt down before her and whispered with what sounded like the sweetest honey-like voice she had heard (that could only be compared to her love John’s voice).

“Serafina. im Brian. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad.” After hearing this beautiful language coming out of this man’s mouth, Serafina turned her head back upwards to the sky as she softly began coughing again.

John soon came in with a small brewing bowl and was currently stirring up the brew.  Brian knelt down beside Serafina softly calling out her name once again as he touched her head.

“This curse is strong.” John finished stirring up the brew and gently took his love’s head and lifted it up, with Brian’s help, and he gently poured the Athelas brew down her throat.  “She won’t last for much longer. We need to get her to Freddie now.”

John picked her up bridal style and the two of them walked towards Roger as Brian said.

“The five witches are still out there searching for you both further in the woods. The four wizards however, I do not know where they have gone.” John gently placed her on top of Roger’s back and steadied her.

“Thank you for your help. But I can take it from here.”

“Roger and I are the fastest together, I’ll take her.” Brian said.

“No. I won’t leave her!”

“You will take the safest road down the river. Once you reach the end, you will go East and soon you will arrive at our friend’s hut.” Brian explained to John the fastest route he could take.

“But what if they find you? Or worse what if this Nokk betrays you and takes my beloved away? I know of what his kind does to women and children!”

“I understand your concern for her. But she is in the safest of hands John Deacon. Roger will ensure that they can’t reach us.” Roger turned to face John.  His ears bent back slightly and he gave the young wizard a bow of his head.  “A Nokk’s name is powerful. He will not harm her.”

John faces Roger and in his horse form he gave the young wizard a small huff before lightly nodding his head.

“As you wish.” Brian softly smiled and hopped onto Roger’s back, sitting behind Serafina so that she now had support to lie back on. “I’m trusting you both with my heart. Ride hard and run swift. Do not let them catch her.”

“Noro lim mellon, Noro lim!” Brian spoke to Roger in Elvish tongue, soon Roger took off running deeper into the forest.  

As he watched with a heavy heart, John prayed to Merlin above that Serafina would be safe and healed in time.

Running with the speed of mercury, Roger ran across the woods in almost a blur.  Brian holding tightly to his friend’s long white mane while keeping an arm wrapped around Serafina so that she wouldn’t fall out.  But soon he heard a whooshing sound and through the trees and when he turned right he soon saw one of the four male wizards flying just a few feet beside them.

He looked to the left and he saw that a blonde witch was also flying beside them, the two of them flying closer and closer to Roger’s body hoping to pin him so they could claim their prize.  But never doubt the speed of a Nokk in horse form.

Roger ran faster but as he turned into a clear opening in the woods, that’s when the rest of the scouting party descended.

“HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! WE’VE GOT THEM NOW! TEAR THE BEAST DOWN! KILL THE ELVISH FILTH! BUT LEAVE THE GIRL ALIVE. For now. HAHAHAHA!!!” the leading witch cackled manically.  Brian turned to the witches and wizards behind and saw one of them take out their wands and fire an attack.  He shielded Serafina with his body from the blast that sent an excruciating pain all over his body.

His bite his lip to try and hold back his screams that desperately wanted to come out.  He gripped Roger’s mane tighter as his friend ran faster through the woods.  But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he tried to lose them through the trees, the party still kept on their tail.

When they came across an open meadow, the witch party now had them surrounded like wolves taking down their prey.  Brian was almost certain that they were about to die right then and there.  But when he saw the crazed woman extend her arm out towards Serafina, it was then Roger took over.

Using his long whip-like horse tail, he whipped the woman across the face and sent her back several feet right off her broom.  He repeated the technic with the other wizards and witches that were too close for comfort, allowing him to take off even faster than he had ever ran before in his life.

Two of the witches flew back towards their sister witch and helped her up.

“That filthy mongrel. HE COULD’VE KILLED ME!! I’ll get him. I will kill him and wear his skin like a coat!” the woman cried out as she got back on her broom and took off flying with her sisters following behind her.

Roger soon got them into a thicker part of the woods where the trees were lower and more condensed together.  He swiftly turned around every other tree to try and confuse the party that followed behind him and it worked.  For some they had to regroup high above the trees just to get out of the condensed area, and others they ended up flying off their brooms cause of the low hanging branches.

Roger leapt over a log and ran down a hill which led to a small river-like creek.  He ran across the water till he came onto the other side of the creek.  He stopped and turned around to face the witches as he huffed and panted heavily.

“Well done Roger, well done.” Brian praised his friend as he too looked at the incoming party.  However once they came to the shoreline of the creek, they found that they couldn’t cross it.

Almost as if there was higher magic blocking them from coming any closer to their targets.

“Give up the traitors, filthy Elf and mindless brute!” the leading witch snarled.  Roger let out a loud roar as he reared high into the air while Brian revealed his sword and held it in the air.

“If you want her, come and claim her!” he challenged the party. All nine of them soon took out their wands and all together they fired at the forcefield that kept them from getting any closer.  

The forcefield held for as long as it could but it was starting to break.  When they noticed the forcefield beginning to break, the party slowly moved forward across the water.

Unbeknownst to them, Brian’s eyes shifted as he stared at the water while softly began to chant in Elvish a spell that had been put up for only him and Freddie to speak out since they were both ancient creatures of old.

Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer;

Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Kuruni!

Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer;

Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Kuruni!

The water slowly began to rise and once Brian finished the chant, the wizards stopped their attack as they suddenly heard a rush of water. Soon storming down from further up river was a tsunami-like wave.

Fearing for their lives, the witches and wizards hopped on their broomsticks and took off flying, but the rushing water was right on their tail. If you would look closely, you would notice that the shapes that were forming in the water were dozens of snakes, all slithering outward towards the witches.

Just before any of them thought they were in the clear, one by one they were each swallowed by the raging waters and taken downstream.

Brian and Roger stood satisfied over the boulder but that’s when they heard the fain wheezing coming out of Serafina’s mouth.  Brian took Serafina off of Roger’s back and lay her down on the ground.  Her face now almost completely red from bleeding internally, tear streams of blood stained around her eyes, and her eyes were almost devoid of any life.

“Serafina, no! Serafina don’t give in. Not now!” pleaded Brian as he gently shook her.  But with one last croak out of her mouth, she went still.  

Roger threw his head back and whinnied out a desperate neigh for help as Brian held her in his arms.

‘What grace has given me. Let it pass to her, let her be spared. Save her.’ Brian prayed in his head.

“Someone call my name?” a voice echoed through the air. Both Brian and Roger looked around when the voice spoke again, “You two honestly call yourselves the fastest team? Even I have ran across the world at least three times faster than that.”

“Freddie.” Brian said.

“How quaint to see you again Brian. It’s been—what 200 years since we last met?”

“187 actually.”

“And Roger, my big strong, handsome Nokk how’s the clan doing?” Roger huffed softly and a soft chuckle rang through the air. “That’s good. Don’t want those nasty other wannabes to let them reign supreme over you. Other than me of course.”

“Please Freddie, we need your help. She’s dying.”

“I know. Which is why I’ve already brewed up the proper counter curse for her. Give her to me now, her partner is running himself ragged wanting to see her already.” Appearing from the bottom of the boulder was a large snake tail.

Brian picked Serafina up and placed her body down along the snakes coils.  Slowly they wrapped around her until almost her whole body was covered.

“Go now, make sure those nasty witches are dead. I won’t have them interfere any longer.” Then almost as quick as lightning, the snake coils disappeared deep within the forest.  Brian looked towards the forest and prayed.

“By the light of the Valor, please let her be saved.”

“She will be.” A soft, raspy voice spoke to him.  He looked up and saw that Roger was now in back in his human Nokk form. “She has to be. I’ll be dammed if after we ran all the way here just for her to die like this.”

“And you’re sure it’s not because of your feelings for her?”

“It’s not like that and you know it! The first women to not fall for my charm even when so many married women have fallen for me, Serafina she—she’s special.” Roger said. “Now c’mon. You heard the naga, we have to see whether that crazed bitch and her lackies are dead or if they somehow survived the spell.” Brian nodded and soon the two of them took off running downstream.

In a quaint little hut, the snake coils soon lifted Serafina into the hut and they set her down along the floor.

“Serafina. Oh Merlin’s beard she’s—she can’t be…..” John pleaded.

“Not yet John dear, now quiet I need to concentrate on the spell.” Freddie’s voice soon spoke up.  Soon coming down from the ceiling was a man with long pitch black hair, his dark tanned skin glistened amongst the candle light, but what would catch your eyes were the dark green and yellow scales all over his arms, chest, neck and even dotting around his face.

His lower half would be twice as shocking for there wasn’t human legs, no his lower half was pure snake.  Dark green with hidden yellow scales.  He also had deep brown eyes with the traditional snake pupil.

Slowly he lowered himself down before the witch, his snake-like tongue flickering out so he could get a read on her.  She was practically knocking on death’s doorstep.  He soon stood face to face over the young witch. His tongue flicked across her bloodstained lips as he hummed gravely.

“The world still has big plans for you my dear. You and your darling lover.” He then raised his hand and forced her mouth open before hissing out in a language that was unknown to John.  

It sounded pure snake-like and it was terrifying to listen to. It sent a cold shiver up John’s spine. Freddie’s voice turned almost ghostly as he continued to chant out this unknown spell and soon he let out a low, threatening hiss as he opened his mouth wider and wider revealing not only the overbite, but the other rows of snake teeth in his mouth.

At first John thought his love was about to be swallowed alive by this monster, but just before he could grab his wand, a red smoke shot out of his love’s mouth and entered inside Freddie.  The naga was actually swallowing the curse!

John watched with both terror yet fascination as the naga devoured the very curse that had poisoned his love.  Freddie placed his hands beside Serafina’s head as he continued to swallow the curse.  Once the last bit of it was swallowed, Freddie lurched back and with a gasp, Serafina woke up.

“My love?” John asked.

“My heart.” She whispered.  John happily smiled and the two young lovers embraced each other.

“I thought I had lost you.” John whispered in her ear as he stroked his fingers through her hair.

“I thought I was gone too. But you saved me my love.”

“I didn’t do it alone though.” That’s when he turned towards Freddie and once Serafina got a good look at her savior, she jumped back. “It’s alright my love, it’s okay. He won’t hurt us.”

“It’s you.” she whispered in awe.  John looked at Serafina confused.  Freddie hummed with interest at the young witch.

“So you remember me?”

“Remember him? My love what does he mean?”

“All will be explained young John. Just know that you have a special witch by your side.” John leaned his forehead against his love’s and whispered to her.

“I know. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Their noses gently brushed up against each other’s lovingly.

“Since you recall our first encounter, I’m sure you’ll also remember Serafina that the world needs you. Both of you. Now more than ever.” The young witch and wizard looked at each other perplexed.

“That’s always puzzled me. What do you mean the world needs us?” Serafina asked.  Freddie looked out of his hut and said.

“I have seen the world shift, burn and rebuild itself time and time again. But with what your people are doing, I fear the world may finally burn and not rebuild itself in a peaceful light.”

“We know. That’s why we left. We couldn’t stand along with what they believed in. Now we’re marked for death.” John said grimly as he took his love’s hand in his.  She placed her hand on top of his and the two stared at each other solemnly.

“Which is why I have seen a potential future for all of us. But for that to happen, it needs you two as the star attractions.”

“What do you mean?” asked Serafina.

Thus…….I began to tell them of a future that I had seen.  A world where all creatures and deities large and small alike could be free, equal, and at peace.  But in order for that world to come to pass, we were gonna need one more star.

And that my darlings, is where you come in.

[jadekitty777]

What a Wonderful World

Some of you may read this and say “shouldn’t this have been for Day 3, Family?” And, okay so, hear me out... I ended up using that prompt too for tomorrow’s entry so, yes these stories could have gone either way (kind of like Qrow).

Day 2: Domestic

Dedicated to: @evebun/@evebun-primary

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 6000

Ao3 Link: What a Wonderful World

Summary: After Salem's attack leaves Mantle and Atlas scrambling for an emergency evacuation, all of its former citizens are left misplaced and homeless, including 5-year-old Citrus and 6-month-old Mint. With no where else to go, the two are placed in Clover and Qrow's care, and Clover soon finds that the future he once envisioned him having with Qrow was changing in a way he could never of imagined... but could never regret.

~

The heat was stifling. Even aura had its limits, leaving his skin stinging and slick with sweat. The smoke that hung in the air choked at his throat and burned at his eyes until they watered. So, it was by pure luck he spotted her, wedged in the space between the wall and the couch.

“Found another!” Clover pulled his arm band down from his mouth long enough to shout over the roar of the fire. He gripped the leg of the heavy furniture, muscles straining as he lifted it up and angled it away from the wall so he could get to her.

As he gathered her limp form in his arms, he realized how small she was. Perhaps only 4 or 5. The youngest they’d found. Her face and little white dress with orange slices patterned across it were both covered in ash. Shakily, he looked for a pulse.

“Is she okay?!” Qrow hurried over, eyes bloodshot from the fire and cape tied around his face like a bandanna. Elm or Harriet must have gotten out the twins he had found trapped in the laundry room.

There it was, weak but steady. Tiny little beats under his fingertips.

He pulled his arm band over her own mouth, giving a relieved nod. Nearby, the stairs to the second floor collapsed, sending up sparks and the couch he’d just moved caught fire. The structure was creaking dangerously around them.

“I-” He started to say, only to start coughing as the smoke invaded his lungs.

Qrow lifted up one edge of his cape over his mouth to help him filter, his other hand encircling his bicep. “Time to go lucky.”

Too woozy to argue – and that probably wasn’t a good sign – he allowed the other huntsmen to guide him back to the front door. Elm came into view as they got close, gaze falling to the bundle in his arms.

Before Clover could hand her off, he felt the grip on his arm turn painful, Qrow’s nails digging in like claws. He gave a hiss, looking towards him – could only see his wide, terrified eyes – and then suddenly he was ripping away from him, running back into the firestorm with an order of, “Get them out of here!” yelled over his shoulder.

“Qrow-!” Clover turned around, trying to follow him, only to feel his own teammate’s arms encircle his waist, lifting him up effortlessly.

“You heard him captain!” He didn’t have it in him to struggle as the powerful woman dragged him out of the complex and set him down on the snow-covered streets of Mantle. His heat-burned skin begged for him to sink into the ground’s icy embrace, but he fought against the urge, eyes darting over the sea of little faces crowded on the other side of the street, Harriet zipping between them at an alarming rate as she tried to check and re-check each child for injury or signs of smoke inhalation.

He turned back to the burning building, the blaze lighting the area in a fiery orange and covering the sky in thick, black clouds. The past few minutes came back in a rush.

It had been awful. They had just been trying to clear the streets, looking for more survivors to bring back to the underground, when a stray shot from a manticore caught one of the building’s ablaze. They hadn’t expected it to be occupied. With no ice dust, they had to go in the old-fashioned way, quickly realizing by the number of toys and kids inside that the caretaker of the orphanage must have sheltered down with them while waiting for help.

They stumbled upon her and three of the kids dead in the kitchen where the blast had exploded the fire-dust infused oven.

Part of the roof collapsing yanked him back into the present and Clover found himself desperately staring at the front door and willing Qrow to walk out of it.

Elm’s hand clutched onto his shoulder. “Cap’n, you need to sit down. You’re swaying.”

“M’fine.” He declined, gritting his teeth as a window on the second floor exploded. They couldn’t wait for Qrow any longer. “Harriet-!”

The rest of his command fell away when the man himself came leaping out of the same window. He landed hard, falling to the snow on his knees. He curled around the bundle he held in his arms swathed in his cape.

Clover’s heart leapt to his throat – No. No way. – before he tore from Elm’s grip, crying out hoarsely, “Qrow!”

He stumbled just as he reached him, collapsing beside him, his grasp on the girl he still held tightening so the fall didn’t jostle her.

“S’okay. It’s okay.” Qrow gasped, pulling back one of the folds of the red cape.

Watery eyes the same shade as Clover’s own blinked back up at them both, before the little infant began to cry.

It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

He fell against his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling like he could cry himself. He checked on his own charge, testing her pulse and breathing again. Still there, but the unconsciousness worried him. “Elm, what’s the status of our back-up?” He croaked out as she came over, probably intending to assist them to the other side of the road.

“May’s on her way with a transport truck now. Jaune’s with her.”

Good. That was good.

He shut his eyes a moment.

When he opened them again, he was in the truck, silvery white aura dancing across his vision. He focused on the young man hovering above him.

Jaune sighed in relief. “Oh good, you’re awake. I was beginning to think I needed to perform CPR.”

“I appreciate you sparing me.” He voiced roughly. He swallowed, flinching at the pain. His throat had never been so sore.

It felt like a smack in the face when he remembered how it got that way.

“Wait, the kids! You should be helping them.”

Jaune didn’t move, smiling reassuringly. “Only two people were in need of immediate care, yourself included. So, I’m multi-tasking.”

Clover furrowed his brow, about to question how that was possible, when a small tug on his lapel has him glancing down.

Years from now, Clover would tell Citrus this story – that the very first time he looked into her smiling face and honey brown eyes, he knew he loved her.

“Hey mister!” The little girl he’d rescued pulled at the badge on his chest once more. “I like your pin.”

“Oh yeah?” Admittedly, he hadn’t interacted much with really young kids, so he dd his best to mimic the way Elm would talk whenever her cousins came to visit. “I like it too. It’s my lucky charm.”

Her eyes went extra wide. “Is it really lucky?”

Clover couldn’t help his grin. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

A snort drew his attention to the left, the sight that greeted him warming his heart. Qrow was against the wall, looking run down yet calm as he rocked the slumbering infant. He looked so… natural, like that. As if he’d done it many times before.

Upon catching his gaze, Qrow offered him a smile, one Clover tiredly returned.

~

That night had been their last search-and-rescue mission. Not because the work was done, there had certainly been several zones in both Mantle and Atlas still left to cover, but because…

Well…

“Daddy, catch me!”

Clover felt all the air in his lungs leave him as Citrus divebombed him from the wardrobe he’d told her a thousand times not to climb. “What do you think you’re doing you little rascal?”

“I told you, I’ma kitty!” She said, making little claw movements with her hands.

“Well, that sounds bad for dad’s health.” He walked her over to her bed, setting her down on the plush duvet sporting happy faces of various cartoon dinosaurs.

“Daddy, you’re silly! Dad’s not an actual bird.” She explained patiently.

Clover snickered. One day, they’d tell her.

But that day was certainly not today. “Alright, what would the kitty cat like to wear this morning?”

“Plaid!”

“Again?” He asked, quirking a smile as she prowled around her bed like a tiny lion.  

“Uh-huh. Mint likes to trace the lines.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you Trissy.”

As she hissed and bat her stuffed animals to the floor, he searched through her dresser for the requested pattern. A lot of what filled it were merely hand-me-downs of Ruby and Yang’s that’d been hiding up in Tai’s attic. The same was true for everything from her furniture and toys right down to the very room they stood in.

He had never considered kids as part of his future. It didn’t seem a possible concept when factoring in his particular interest in male-only lovers. So, to suddenly have two practically dropped into his lap, Clover had no issue accepting any help the more experienced father had to give, to say nothing of the paragraphs of advice he had to hand out at any given moment. He and Qrow certainly couldn’t thank him enough.

Well. He certainly couldn’t. Qrow, on the other hand, was all off-handed comments about how this was all ‘only fair payback’. Which, if Tai overheard, resulted in the two bickering like teenagers. It never got heated and no one ever stormed off upset, but it still baffled Clover that they couldn’t just talk it out.

But, puzzling out their seemingly crooked foundation of a friendship was just one thing too many for Clover to add to his ever-weighted plate of things to worry about.

Like how to convince Citrus to wear her shoes today. “Come on Trissy, you’re going to rip up your leggings again. How about just the left one?”

“No.” She plopped down on her rear, scooting away from him. “Don’t like ‘em. They make my feet hurt.”

“You haven’t even tried these ones before. And look! They have little stars on them.” He tried to cajole.

A picture of defiance, Citrus crossed her legs and held onto her feet, repeating firmly. “No!”

If his former subordinates ever found out he could be so effortlessly taken down by a child, they would never let him live it down. With a conceding sigh, he placed the sneakers back under her bed. “Alright, no shoes for now. Would you like to do your hair instead?”

“I want dad to do it.”

The gentle reminder that this was dad’s morning to help Mint get ready was right on the tip of his tongue – when another voice beat him to the punch.

“Good call squirt. I’m the one with all the fashion sense.” Qrow was standing in the doorway, somehow still able to look incredibly smug despite the fact he was a forty-four-year-old man currently rocking an infant.

Citrus raced over to him, clinging onto his leg. “Dad!”

“Need something?” He lifted his foot off the ground held it up high, letting her dangle from his shin – it was still a wonder to Clover how he managed to keep his balance.

She started to swing back and forth like a monkey. “Can you do my hair up in cherries like before?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Qrow made a big show of thinking it over really hard. “I believe there’s a magic word I need to hear first.”

“Please? Please, please, pleaaaase?” She stretched out the last one.

He chuckled, lowering her back to the floor. “Alright already squirt. No need to pull my leg.”

Clover turned away just so Qrow couldn’t see how that awful joke made him smile.

Thankfully, he was too preoccupied to notice. “Go sit at your spot for me.” As she hurried over to the little vanity desk with its nail-polish stained top, missing drawers and cracked mirror, Qrow approached him, handing off their son. “He’s not too fussy today.”

That had about a 60% chance of changing the moment Qrow left Mint’s line of sight.

A month into their not-quite official parenthood, Clover started to collect parenting guide books and every night, he would read a chapter or two before bed. One evening when he was thumbing through Infant Milestones and What to Look Out For, he came across the term “separation anxiety”. Apparently, it was a common in babies of Mint’s age – which they’d guesstimated to be 6 or 7 months. Despite the worrisome name, it was defined as a developmental period in which a child understood that things and people could leave and return, and they responded to this by wailing. The chapter went on to assure it was a temporary issue that would crop up in small bursts over time.

Eight months and some mild improvement later, it was still an issue laser-focused on Qrow.

But, if he were honest, it was one that went both ways. With such sudden unconditional love being given to him on a daily basis, Qrow had formed a paternal bond with the boy that became unshakable as the months went on. In fact, Clover suspected the other huntsman had decided on adoption well before he had.

For Clover, that moment came several months in.

Originally, Citrus and Mint’s care was to be temporary. Unlike the rest of the kids they’d saved from that fire, the two were much too young for Patch’s already over-crowded shelter to feel comfortable taking charge of them during the crisis. Not wanting the two to be lost to a hectic system or to just dump them on Tai who was already the lynchpin of the evacuation efforts’ portaling system, Clover and Qrow had unanimously agreed to foster the two children until things could calm and better arrangements for the two could be made.

At the time, they had just shrugged it off. How long could it possibly take, really? A few days? A week, at most?

When they passed the first month and the first groups of Atlesians were only just being ferried across to Vale to further the relief program, they realized they may have been just a little off on their prediction.

After the second, Mint had his name bestowed upon him accidentally when Qrow realized his eyes matched the mint chocolate chip ice cream the boy was trying to take out of his hand.

By the third, Clover had grown pretty used to reading Citrus fairytales before bed. He was just picking through an anthology for something new when it happened:

“So, are you my new daddy?”

The book almost fell out his grasp. He met the little girl’s unwavering gaze and felt more effortlessly pinned by it than any glare his superiors ever managed to dish out. “What makes you ask?”

“’Cause you do all the things a daddy is supposed to.” She picked up a stuffed rabbit. “You give me Mr. Cuddlesworth. And you read me stories. And make me brush my teeth before I go to bed. Which is yucky and we should have a vote on that.”

He may have laughed had his mind not been going a mile a minute.

It came to a complete stop when she looked at him and asked again. “So, are you?”

He didn’t end up giving her a definitive answer that night. Later, Clover found himself lying awake and staring at the ceiling until it eventually annoyed Qrow into rolling over.

“Alright, I can hear those cogs in your head struggling to turn. What’s wrong?”

He answered the question with one of his own. “Have you… ever wanted kids?”

“Always.” No pause, no doubt.

He looked at him. “Really?”

Qrow propped his head up in one hand. “That so hard to believe?”

“A little, yeah.” He admitted, suddenly feeling guilty over his own thoughts. There was still so much that was new between them – why was he trying to throw a wrench into that?

Even in the dark, he could tell Qrow was studying him. “You’ve been thinking about them too, eh?”

“It’s just – Citrus is starting to ask questions. She’s thinking this place is permanent. And Light knows Mint can’t go anywhere without you.” Clover rubbed a hand over his eyes. “What are we going to do?”

“Guess we just got to keep ‘em.” Over his incredulous spluttering, Qrow added, “What? That’s what you were trying to ask, right?”

“But it’s crazy. And stupid! And-And-”

“It’s far from the craziest or stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

He turned onto his side, facing him fully. “What about us? We haven’t even been together for half a year yet, Qrow. And this is a lifetime commitment.”

“Yeah, and?”

Did someone in this house have a personality switching semblance? Where was all this confidence coming from? “I kind of figured you’d be more concerned about this.”

Qrow hummed, resting his head. “Did I ever tell you I used to teach at Signal?”

“No.” He’d been in the primary combat school dozens of times by now. With the facility shutdown due to the disaster in Atlas, the classrooms had been repurposed for sleeping space for the thousands who’d been relocated. He had to wonder which of the many classrooms had been Qrow’s. “Seems an unusual choice for you.”

“Heh, you’re telling me. That’s because I didn’t take the position because I wanted to.” He swept a hand above them, as if encompassing the room around them. “I took it because I had to help out here. When Ruby’s mom died, Tai was a wreck and needed help with the girls. And I just, shelved everything else in my life to be here for them.”

“That’s an incredible thing to do.” The sentiment was genuine, but he couldn’t help the grin as Qrow tried to hide in his pillow.

“Point is, I’ve already had to make a decision like this before. Making it again isn’t so hard for me.” He reached out, tapping his chest. “Sounds to me it’s just you having doubts.”

He wasn’t wrong. Clover was feeling uncertain – but he couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t until the next day, when he mentioned his and Qrow’s conversation to Tai and shared his own confused misgivings, that he finally figured out why.

“Give me your scroll.”

Confused, he dropped the device into his hand, watching Tai pull something up, before handing it back. Clover looked down. His heart fell at the ‘Decommission of Huntsman Duty Request’ staring back at him. It seemed obvious when presented like that.

“Being a father means it comes first.” Tai clapped him on the shoulder. “When you can submit that, then you know it’s what you really want.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then you can’t.” He echoed. “Starting a family isn’t about sacrificing happiness, it’s about creating it. There’s no shame in admitting that it’s not something you want.”

Clover sighed, running a hand through his hair. Laughter from outside had him looking up, seeing Qrow holding Citrus above his head as he strolled around the property. She had her arms held out in front of her, mimicking a superhero flying through the sky. What really captivated him was Qrow himself. The other man was not known for smiling big, if much at all – but right then, it had enough brightness to it to power the sun. The sight made his chest swell so much, it could burst.

“And if I can?” He whispered, like a secret that shouldn’t be told.

“Then you can.” Having been watching the two outside as well, Tai’s smile and eyes were distant. Perhaps his own girls on his mind. “And one day, you’ll look back at that moment and realize that even though you never saw your life going this way, it was the best decision you ever made.”

All his life, Clover had been certain he would die a huntsman. That he would fight and protect and fight some more until something finally got the better of him. If he was lucky, he’d go out heroically, sacrificing his own life to save even one last person. He never thought he needed anything else.

But as he watched the two play, filling the backyard with such innocent, simple joy, he wondered if he could truly leave this behind without regret.

“What do you think Qrow’ll do?” He asked.

“I think that’s a question you should ask him yourself.”

So, he did.

And now, five months later, here he was playing peek-a-boo with Mint while Qrow put hair ties with little red bobbles on them up in Citrus’ hair.

He hadn’t yet regretted a single day.

~

Raven was in the kitchen when they got downstairs.

Mint started to fuss immediately, and Clover didn’t put up a fight when Qrow reached out to take him.

“Brother.” She said around a sip of tea.

“Raven.” He returned, expression thunderous on their intruder.

If Tai and Qrow’s relationship was one that Clover didn’t have time to figure out, he didn’t even try to touch Qrow and Raven’s. It just had bad blood written all over it.

“Auntie Rae!” Citrus, still too young to really understand all the hostility in the air, skipped over to the woman with no hesitation.

Despite the fact there were three other huntsmen in the room, Qrow tensed up every time. Clover placed a hand on his back.

“Dad did my hair, isn’t it pretty?” The girl lowered her head, pointing to the ties.

“It’s, fine.” In an instant, Raven’s mask broke into something lost and confused. It was hilarious how one child could make her go from borderline threatening to uselessly awkward. “Why don’t you show Tai, I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“’Kay!” She chirped, running over to the counter where the man was preparing a stew that would be left to shimmer until supper.

The taunt muscles under his hand started to unwind. Clover rubbed the rest of the tension away, giving Qrow a kiss on the cheek. “Sit down. I got breakfast.”

Shooting him a grateful look, the other man did just that, addressing his sister, “I assume if you’re here, you’ve got news?”

“Do I come for any other reason?”

“Thankfully, no.”

Clover listened with one ear as he went about the motions. Warmed a bottle for Mint. Poured a cup of coffee for Qrow. Popped on the top of the sippy cup filled with apple juice for Citrus. As he lifted the fresh tea kettle for himself, he paused, giving Tai a suspicious glance when he realized it wasn’t filled with the usual Jasmine, but a dark, bitter Darjeeling.

The blond pointedly pretended to not notice, as if he hadn’t made his ex’s favorite tea despite the fact his relationship with the woman across the room was arguably worse than Qrow’s.

He was never going to understand this family, was he?

Clover set the kettle back, deciding to opt for coffee as well but drowned it in sugar. Delivered three of the four drinks to the table. Took sips of his own while he got down Citrus’ favorite cereal and made a few slices of buttered toast for himself and Qrow. Sliced some grapes into small pieces for Mint. On his second return to the table, the conversation had delved into an argument.

“I just don’t see why you can’t stay closer to them.”

“I’m staying as close as I need to. It’s bad enough they have one maiden in their group – what good would it do for me to be there?”

“You could train Penny, for one.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Raven snorted, reaching for her tea.

Clover spotted Citrus imitating her with her juice. He wasn’t sure if he liked her odd admiration of the older woman.

His own feelings on her were… mixed, at best. On one hand, it was obvious her stuck-up, selfish attitude and harsh nature had soured the relationships with the people around her. Most notably the one with her own daughter, who would either ignore her or leave the room entirely. If such a thing bothered Raven, she was too stubborn to admit it and too concerned with keeping up appearances to show it.

On the other, it was Raven they owed Atlas’ evacuation to. If not for her semblance, allowing for them to quickly and safely transport people by the hundreds from Mantle’s belly of underground mines to the safe island of Patch, he was positive the death count would have been much more severe. If not, a near total genocide. Salem’s seize had been all encompassing, entrapping the citizens of both cities within their own walls. With nowhere to go and no chance of surviving the tundra, the people had bunkered down in their homes and prayed for a miracle.

So, when Raven heeded her brother’s call and agreed to help, it felt like that prayer was being answered.

Qrow told him not to be fooled by her act of kindness – because that was exactly what it was. An act. He was positive his sister only stepped in to put herself in their good graces, so that when it was her life that was in danger, they would all but leap at her feet to protect her. While Clover couldn’t precisely refute that, it was certainly possible that was her aim, he also couldn’t help but point out that she already had the leverage she needed for that. After all, it wasn’t exactly like they’d allow Salem to just add another maiden’s powers to her growing entourage of followers.

It also didn’t explain why she was sticking around to be a glorified messenger bird, transporting information between their little family in Patch to Vale where the remaining members of the Aceops and the Beacon teachers were stationed, to Vacuo where Ruby and the various teams following her were keeping guard on the other relic.

Qrow blew that explanation off, just as he blew off Raven now, “How is it ridiculous to give our very important key player in this a fighting chance?”

“Oh please, don’t give me that drivel.” She snarled nastily. “You just want me to babysit those brats like you were doing.”

Before more could be said, Tai smacked the top cover of the pot down firmly and said, “If you two are going to go at each other’s throats, do it outside.”

The twins glared at one another, but Qrow was the first to back down, focusing back on Mint. “I’ve got better things to do.”

“As do I.” Raven got to her feet, setting her cup down on the table. “At least the tea was lovely. Can’t say the same for the company.”

Tai rolled his eyes. “Well thanks for coming.”

Like the tornado she was, the woman went sweeping out the back door, leaving everything behind in a disarray.

Clover exhaled slowly, studying the room. Tai had turned away to fetch a mug of tea for himself. If not for his brother-in-law’s sobriety, he may have looked for something stronger. What concerned him more was Qrow. His boyfriend was fighting a scowl, jaw locked like iron and lips pressed in a hard line of anger that seemed ready to explode out of him.

“Hey,” He started to say, reaching out towards the man beside him.

So preoccupied, none of them noticed until the back door shut a second time.

Head snapping around, Clover took one look at his daughter’s empty chair, before he was leaping up to chase after her. He was out the door and in the yard in seconds, the shout tearing out from his throat.

“CITRUS!”

The sight that awaited him had his heart turning to ice cold dread. Raven stood in front of one of her vortexes, awash with the bloody glow and sword poised above her like a guillotine. Underneath it, hanging helplessly by the back of her dress, was his daughter.

“Raven. Put her down. Now.” He said firmly, shaking fingers going for Kingfisher – only to find it wasn’t there. Red eyes met his, the surprise in them confusing him.

“I-” She started.

Vaguely, he recognized the sound of footsteps on the porch behind him, but his attention didn’t waver from the situation in front of him. So, he didn’t miss the way her expression steeled over once more.

“What are you doing?!” Qrow bellowed.

“Just making a point.” Raven tossed the girl through the air, right into Clover’s waiting arms. “Would have been a tragedy if I’d been an enemy, wouldn’t it of?”

With that parting gift, she walking through her portal and vanished in a blink.

~

The first lesson ever taught to him at the academy was no amount of preparation could plan for the unplannable.

With a snap, the book was closed, Clover tossing it onto the table in front of him with a scoff. He fell back against the couch cushions, raking agitated hands through his hair. With Tai having gone to town and Qrow and the kids upstairs, there was a rare bit of stillness to the home. Yet, the quiet only seemed to invite the echoes of his own shouts until they were the loudest thing in the room again.

“What were you thinking? You can’t just run after people with swords!”

“But, but dad has a sword!”

“I don’t care! You could have gotten hurt!”

“I-I just wanted to-”

“I don’t want to hear it! Go to your room, right now!”

Citrus’ tear-stained face as she ran up the stairs plagued him like an illness. He groaned miserably, pressing his palms against his eyes hard enough to see stars. Even with the many years leading the Aceops under his belt, he was never really a man known to shout. What had happened?

The stairs creaking had him looking up, seeing Qrow descending them. “Mint’s down for his nap.”

“And Trissy?”

“Still doesn’t want to come down.”

Who could blame her? Clover heaved a sigh. “I made an awful display of myself, huh?”

“Wouldn’t say that.” The other man joined him on the couch. “When Yang was about the same age, she took herself and Ruby out into the woods.” He paused, before snorting. “Trying to find Raven actually.”

Did this woman just attract danger by merely being in someone’s thoughts?

“So, of course they got attacked by Grimm out there. I barely got there in time.” Qrow ran a hand over the back of his head, smile sheepish. “You should have seen how I lost my head that day. And I was nothing compared to Tai. A volcano erupting would have been calmer.”

That managed to wretch a chuckle from him.

Qrow bumped their shoulders together with no more force than a pat. “Sometimes, kids are frustrating little tyrants that’ll make terrible decisions and drive you up a wall. Getting mad about it doesn’t mean the world ended, just means you care.”

“I know. I just,” He gestured to the forgotten book, Disciplining Positively, he’d tossed aside on the table, “I want to do things the right way for them.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me there was a ‘How to do everything right’ guide? Coulda sold that to me ages ago.” He drawled sarcastically.

Clover curled an arm around him, pulling him closer. “Very funny. You know what I mean.”

“I do. And I’ll admit, you do better than most, but even you can mess up lucky charm. All you can do when that happens is roll with those punches. Citrus’ll come around. And if that fails,” His grin was downright devious, “Bribery always works.”

“Oh, stop!”

Qrow only laughed, not fighting the kisses Clover attacked his face with. He had almost made it to his mouth, when a pitter-patter from upstairs interrupted. A moment later, a small shadow stretched down the stairwell. Testing, a foot came into view, landing on the first step. When nothing ill happened, the other foot followed.

When she made it to the first landing, Qrow spoke, “Whatcha doing there, squirt?”

She had brought Mr. Cuddlesworth with her and was hugging him. “Can I come down now?”

“I think that one’s up to daddy.”

Clover gave the other an appreciative look, before smiling up at their daughter. “Of course you can, sweetheart.”

She came down the rest of the stairs, only to pause once she got to the carpet. “Are you still mad?”

He chose his next words carefully, “No, I’m not. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was scared that Aunt Raven was going to hurt you, because she was holding her sword.”

She tugged idly on one of the rabbit’s long, floppy ears. “I think I scared her too.”

That had Qrow leaning forward, asking. “What do you mean?”

“She said a no-no word when I tried to run into her portal thing. That’s why she grabbed me. Then she snapped at me like daddy did.”

Clover frowned. He had a feeling he had another apology to give. “Trissy, why did you do that?”

“Because,” She twisted and untwisted the ear, tapping her little feet, “If I went with her, then she would have to bring me back.”

Oh. “You wanted to spend more time with her, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

He eyed his boyfriend carefully, seeing the confliction all over his face. He dropped a hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. This had to be hard for him. “Well sweetie, next time, we can just ask her if she can stay longer okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m also sorry I made you upset and sad. Can you forgive me?”

Citrus nibbled on the end of the rabbit’s ear as she thought, before giving a slow nod.

Relief pushed out of him in a soft sigh. “Thank you.” He shifted back, sinking into the cushions more. “Hey, since Mint’s asleep, why don’t we all watch a Gleamworks movie?”

“Sounds good to me.” Qrow got to his feet. After all that, he was probably eager to just veg out for the next hour and a half. He lent down in front of the media center, pulling out one of the drawers. “Your pick squirt.”

“I like the one with the funny panda!”

“Funny panda it is.”

While Qrow got things set up Citrus came over and, to Clover’s surprise, climbed up right next to him. She held her bunny up at him, reporting matter-of-factly, “Mr. Cuddlesworth needs to be able to see too.”

“Okay.” He picked up the stuffed toy, setting it on her head. “What about here?”

“No, daddy! Somewhere higher!”

“Oh, got it.” He turned the rabbit around, setting it on the back of the couch. “How about this?”

She giggled behind her hands. “Noooo. That’s the wrong way. He can’t see out of his butt!”

“Are you sure?”

She gave him a look. “Can you see out of your butt?”

He winked. “Maybe that’s my semblance.”

“No, it’s not! Now do it right!”

He chuckled but did as asked, righting the toy. As Citrus snuggled up to him, he wrapped an arm around her. A moment later, he did the same with Qrow when he plopped back down beside him.

While the movie played, Clover had to wonder how his life had both become congruently simpler and harder at the same time. Sure, he no longer faced anything more dangerous than bruised knees from tripping over Mint’s toys and the most terrifying thing he had to confront was not a crazed Grimm Queen but Citrus trying to run after her criminal of an aunt. But now he had to contend with new difficulties, like learning how to deal with sleepless nights when Mint was teething, or adapting to the new developments and understanding as the kids grew, or just having long talks with Qrow about their plans for their future together and the one they hope to give to their children. Every new decision they made wasn’t the same as facing the end of the world, but at the same time it was.

Because, somewhere along the way, this family had become his new world.

In that, there was something that hadn’t changed – his resolve to protect that world with everything he had.

So that tomorrow, it could flourish and grow.

To his right, Citrus laughed as the panda went flying across the sky. To his left, Qrow yawned and rested his head against his shoulder for a nap of his own. Clover only smiled, arms still holding on, never intending to let go.

So that tomorrow, they all had something wonderful to wake up to.

[harpers-tartarus]

I would be very interested in reading the first chapter of the crooked verse because your works are always amazing

:)

LEON WASN’T ALWAYS Leon. In fact, the name had been a gift, chosen by his sister. He’d asked her to before the ritual had begun and when he came out of it, disoriented, two thin scars on his chest, his voice deeper, she was there, in her cleric garb, golden and absolutely radiant.

Her fingers formed four letters. [L-E-O-N. It’s Renouvellian, like your family was. It means ‘lion’.]

“Lion?” Leon had felt heavier than lead. “Don’t think it suits me.”

She’d rolled her eyes, knowing he’d wear the name proudly. And he did, for years, and then…

Leon felt like he was drowning, his lungs burning. There was dirt in his mouth and he needed to fucking breathe. His hands clawed through the earth strangling him until he forced himself through the surface, coughing harshly.

The sky above him was bleak, but, even worse, was the silence.

Leon had grown up with the comfort of his sister’s voice in his head, her presence clear, even if her words were not, even if she was miles upon miles away, devoting herself to the god that she loved so dearly, knee deep in ancient history and myths. ([I’ll leave the piracy to you] she signed to Leon but he’d never missed the look of longing on her face. She’d always been more like Brizo than Nomia and Leon had been the opposite) Luckily, as a cleric, she’d had the opportunity to travel a great deal, and if one thing could be said about Leon’s sister, it was that she’d always had a healthy bit of wanderlust.

To be without her presence in his head was worse than any torture Leon could dream up.

Leon was sitting in his own grave, feeling as though his sister was just as dead, and it was an agony like no other.

He wanted to scream, more than anything he wanted wail his rage and pain to the heavens, but even if his throat hadn’t felt raw and nearly unusable, Leon had known better than to scream. He always knew better than to scream.

Instead, his fingers dug into the wet earth and he pitched himself forward, almost kneeling against the grave dirt and tried to silence the sobs. She’d always cared more about death than he had, the dead had meant something to her and he’d watched her perform death rites on so many forgotten corpses.

“Why does it matter?” he’d asked her. “They’re already dead.”

[I like to think I help them get back home] she’d replied, her smile bright, dark eyes gleaming. But who would help Leon now that she was gone?

She’d lost the innocence of her youth, but his sister had never stopped in her dedication to both the dead and to truth, even when she herself was contributing to the number of bodies. The last time Leon had seen his sister had been when he’d seen her likeness on a wanted poster for treason and murder.

His sister, the girl that had stumbled on a god exactly once and been so enthralled that she’d joined a temple dedicated to that god and never told another lie. His sister, who’d watched him wince every time someone had called him by that name he’d hated so much and held his hand even when she could barely handle his touch so that he wasn’t alone during the ritual. His sister, who used to stand by the seaside, telescope in hand, searching for The Siren out at sea with their mother at the helm back when she still had her love. His sister, wanted for treason and murder.

She’d left the safety of her temple -but the head cleric had said she did that from time to time, always in the company of Ming Zhu and Rajan, except that time- some time before without a word, leaving all of Leon’s letters unopened. He’d tried to reach out to her through their shared bond but had been rebuffed each time.

It was like she hadn’t wanted to be found, which was an incredibly odd stance to take, especially for her. And, unfortunately, Leon couldn’t even remember what had been happening before he’d awoken in his shallow grave.

He pressed a hand to his brow, struggling to remember, but all he could recall was a face shrouded in shadow and a hood that was golden, obscuring most of their face. The bond had remained silent even as the darkness swallowed him up.

He rubbed the tears from his face, he couldn’t deal with this. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t even know how much time had passed since he’d gone into the ground…he didn’t even know where his sister was.

Leon hadn’t even wanted her to go to that temple in the first place, they’d both just turned twenty and they were so young…but it was like she was enchanted. Nothing had had an effect on her quite like finding Reedspeaker in the woods. She’d said Reedspeaker needed help and she’d given it to her, so Reedspeaker gave her a blessing, but what exactly that blessing entailed, Leon had never learned. She’d packed her things and left the next day to head for her temple.

It had taken years for him to forgive her for that, for leaving him…they were a matched set and she’d just abandoned him…it had taken him even longer to realize that it was a gift; they both needed to figure out who they were without the other at their side.

And then she’d disappeared into the wind like she’d used magic, which was equal parts amusing and exasperating because she’d never had an interest in magic, Leon wasn’t sure she’d even liked it. He had magic, of course, something one of their mothers had called a fluke -he hadn’t gone to school to learn it, he hadn’t made any deal with any unearthly being, and he didn’t even know if he was related to anyone with that gift. He hadn’t appreciated the way she’d said it, but even when his sister didn’t seem to like it much, she’d never minded when he used his magic, and she’d certainly never made him feel like he only had it because of dumb luck.

Leon swallowed thickly and did something he hadn’t ever done before; he prayed.

“Please,” he rasped thickly, “I know…I never liked you, you know that, but I know you cared about her, and-and that’s good enough for me…but I need help, please, what do I do?”

For a moment, there was no answer. Leon was alone, his head was quiet, and it was a kind of torture that he’d never want anyone else to experience.

Then he started to wonder if Reedspeaker even spoke to anyone that wasn’t a devout believer in them…because that was definitely going to make it difficult to communicate.

But those thoughts came to a stop at the sound of a whisper on the wind or perhaps it was in his ears for him alone.

Find your sister.

Find your sister…that probably meant that she was still alive, right? Which was good news…but the bad news was that Leon didn’t even know where to start looking.

She never even gave her true name to the temple when she’d lived and boarded with them, training as a cleric to Reedspeaker.

Leon pulled another folded-up piece of parchment, this time from his coat pocket, where he’d shoved the paper himself.

Medusa, Death-bringer, the paper proudly proclaimed, wanted by the Phlegethon Empire, by order of Her Imperial Majesty, Isolde Bloodseeker, for treason and murder.

The reward had been worn away, but the image of his sister was so unlike how he remembered her.

The woman sketched there was fierce and bold, her curls so wild they could be mistaken for snakes, blackness blotting out the entirety of her eyes, thin, dark veins spreading from the edges of the eyes to her cheeks, a claw-like scar ripped from her brow all the way down to her cheek.

Then Leon spoke aloud into the silence.

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered harshly.

ͽͼ

The Serpent Tongue was not the most popular pub in town, but it was certainly the oldest, that much everyone knew. It had been around for centuries and many of its first patrons were still patrons, being creatures of long lifespans.

Claude Beaumont was the last of the most recent generation of Beaumonts to own the Serpent Tongue, well, technically, he didn’t own it, his parents did, but he was a decent barkeep and it wasn’t as though Claude could do many occupations with his lame leg.

His mother had never approved of that line of thinking. There were other ways to make a living without needing the use of strong legs, but this was the life Claude was comfortable with. The family loved to tell those old stories about the man who’d built the Serpent Tongue -James Crowley-, their forebear, a human that had once sailed the seas with the Wailing Woman.

It had been a fantastic story to Claude when he’d been younger, knowing he was related to a pirate but now pirates as they had been back then were fewer in number, more often than not absorbed into the Empiric Navy.

No one liked to mess with the Empiric Navy.

Claude was very glad that Renouvel was a democratic country, that much he knew. But that didn’t mean that the Phlegethon Empire wasn’t an issue for them.

It was a quiet evening, the birds were crooning outside the windows and Claude was humming along to them as he wiped a glass with a rag, looking forward to a quiet evening.

Until the door slammed open and Claude almost dropped his glass.

The man framed in the doorway wasted no time in entering the practically empty tavern, making his way towards Claude and demanding, oh so eloquently, for “Whatever you’ve got that’s not utter shit.”

“Uh,” Claude responded just as eloquently. “How about some whiskey?”

The man gave a wave with an air of “Whatever.”

Claude poured him a few inches of whiskey, that he promptly downed, before adding more when the man pushed the glass back towards Claude.

The man, now that Claude could get a right look at him, was completely smeared and caked with mud; not an attractive look.

“You don’t happen to have a bath or something?” the man’s voice was harsh and his fingers twitched like he was used to using them to talk.

“Uh, yeah,” Claude’s tongue started working again. “Upstairs to the left, but it’ll cost you—”

The man threw down a silver coin that was more than enough to cover his drink and the bath, easily, before storming off.

Claude couldn’t help but be a bit miffed by the attitude, though, he supposed he’d feel poorly if he was looking like he’d kicked his way out of a buried coffin and was now immensely regretting the decision of returning to the living.

ͽͼ

It took an age scrub the dirt from his body. Leon must’ve had to empty the tub five times before he could settle into the water without blackening it with muck.

He looked to the mirror balanced on the vanity. His curling facial tattoos were plain to see without the dirt, the only sign of his nymph ancestry. They weren’t like Nomia’s, but it had only been later that she’d explained that they were both adopted, they were a darker and richer blue; Nomia’s had been so faint they were nearly white.

Some days he wished he had all three the traits nymphs possessed; curved ears that came to the faintest point, facial tattoos, and eyes the color of the sea.

His sister had inherited the ears, enough that someone could tell there was something inhuman about her but not enough to be noticed if her hood was up.

Lucky her.

Leon shook off those thoughts. He didn’t have time to think about that…or…

A wide smile with teeth that almost seemed fanged, green eyes with snake-like slitted pupils, and a silky voice that sent a shiver down his spine.

Rajan.

Leon’s voice choked on the name. The first time they’d even met he’d knocked Leon flat on his ass, his gnarly staff with that fluorite lodged in the wood sweeping Leon’s legs out from under him, and he’d been about two seconds away from braining Leon, when his sister had stepped in.

She’d been closer to what he remembered, then. No scars, but that one leg still a stump, an easy smile on her lips. She had never looked more comfortable than she did in the vestments of her god; golden and white and absolutely radiant.

Leon leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, looking at the inside of his right wrist, which bore a tattoo that the twins shared; a snake eating its tail. Nomia’s symbol. Their mother hadn’t been pleased about that tattoo.

It was easier to reminisce than it was to think about the predicament he was in. It was easier to think of his sister or Rajan or his mothers as alive.

They were alive! He thought viciously to himself. And he was going to keep believing that until he was proven otherwise.

He drew himself out of the bath, getting some more clean water to wash his grave-dirt caked clothes. Tomorrow, he decided after hanging them up to dry, tomorrow I’ll get some answers.

ͽͼ

The sun crept up slowly, cutting through the fog of the morning and dancing through the window until it came across his face and Leon scrunched up his nose and rolled over with a groan, trying to avoid the light as much as possible. But he could only escape so much and Leon really needed to figure out where he was and get a clue about his sister’s situation.

He pulled on his dried clothes from where they’d been hanging after he’d cleaned them the previous night, inspecting his long coat closely, only to sigh at how slightly damp it was.

Better than soaking wet and covered in mud, he supposed.

Leon’s stomach growled loudly, twisting in on itself and he winced suddenly. It had to’ve been ages since he’d had a proper meal. He checked his money pouch that he’d nicked on his way into town -in the fashion only a pirate was capable of- and hoped he had enough for some decent food. He had his own coins, sure, just not very much of them and Leon wasn’t totally sure what the currency ratio was and if they even accepted Panthian coins.

The barkeep did a double take when Leon finally wandered down the stairs. Leon could understand that…he’d probably looked half-dead the previous night.

“Got any food in this place?” he grunted, sitting on the same stool he had the previous night.

“…uh, we’ve got some eggs and meat left,” the man admitted after giving himself a mental shake. “It’s covered on what you paid last night for the bath and room.”

“Thanks,” Leon muttered as the man limped off to get him food and drink. “What’s your name?” he asked when he came back with the food, eagerly taking the plate from him and devouring the eggs with ease before moving onto the sausage and bacon.

“Claude Beaumont,” the man smiled helpfully. “And you?”

“Leon.”

“Just Leon?” Claude arched an eyebrow.

“Just Leon,” he agreed.

“Well, Leon…never seen a male nymph before.”

Leon froze too long in taking a drink, nearly choking on the water, just managing to swallow it without making a fool out of himself. “Not a nymph,” he rasped.

“Oh, sorry,” Claude said quickly, “it’s just the facial tattoos—”

“I’m half,” Leon forced out, albeit with great reluctance. And it had taken decades to find out the other half and its deadly capabilities; his throat ached as he swallowed again. “So’s my sister…she’s the one that got the nymph ears, though. Never quite forgave her for that.”

That startled a laugh out of Claude, probably trying to imagine a woman identical to Leon -dark, gleaming skin, blue facial tattoos, hazel eyes, broad shoulders- and it was always amusing to Leon when people saw the twins together; they couldn’t have looked more different.

“So…what country am I in?” Leon thought it best to start with the basics.

Claude stared at him dubiously for a few moments. “Are you serious?”

Leon arched an eyebrow.

“You don’t know what country you’re in?” Claude couldn’t seem to get past it.

“Give me some leeway,” Leon drawled, “I pulled myself out of a grave yesterday. I don’t even know what year it is.” Not that he’d really paid attention to that sort of thing back when he’d been alive the first time (or was it still considered only time since it wasn’t as though he’d been reincarnated or anything like that since coming out of the ground? Leon wasn’t totally sure).

“But…you have an accent,” Claude was flummoxed.

“Yeah?” Leon’s eyebrow twitched. “What’re ya tryin’ to say?” Leon knew he had an accent. He sounded Renouvelian, at least, that was what his sister had said the last time he’d seen her, but Captain Médée had been Renouvelian, as had most of her crew and Leon had been with them for decades, so it made sense that he talked like them. His sister had always had a Panthian twist to her tongue as hoarse as her voice was on the rare occasion that she had spoken aloud.

But she’d always been more like Brizo, their other mother, Leon thought. Kind and loving and patient, good in a fight, if it called for it. But she hadn’t much liked traveling by sea, and being in a family of sea-farers, there was nothing more ironic. She loved traveling as much as the rest of them, but preferred it on her own two feet.

Rajan and Ming Zhu had been the same. Birds of a feather and all that…it was hard not to be jealous of how tightly knit those three were.

“You’re in Renouvel,” Claude had evidently decided to save some face. “It’s the year 1420.”

Leon grunted. “That number doesn’t mean much…how long has it been since the Ash Blight?” That had been a rough time. A curse that had gotten out of control and ended up consuming an entire country. Chikolli had become a funeral pyre overnight and the last thing that Leon remembered was that no one wanted to go near it, by land or by sea, believing the curse still held strong, keeping anyone from setting foot on its ashen soil, lest they become ash as well.

His sister had wanted to go there, Leon didn’t know why, but at the time it seemed so important to her, like there was something waiting for her at Chikolli. Or someone. Leon had told her no; he knew more about curses than she did, magic was his thing the way truth was hers.

She hadn’t spoken to him since then.

“Ash Blight?” Claude’s brow furrowed. “Never heard of it.”

Okay…so it had definitely been a long time since then. Leon wasn’t good with history or the passage of time. The days always seemed to bleed together when all you saw was the endless sea. And Leon really loathed to ask, but— “Is there a library or something around here?” he asked in annoyance.

His sister was the one who’d loved history, especially ancient myths and legends, but Leon was more of a ‘making history’ kind of guy. But she’d never wanted that, she was content to sink into the background and remain unseen.

“Uh, yeah, there’s the Colas-sur-Mer Library.” Claude gave a half shrug, a bit confused. “It’s a big building down the street on the left, you can’t miss it.”

Leon didn’t even thank him, for the food, for the information, he just stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly on the ground, out of the door before Claude could say anything more.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Claude muttered to himself.

ͽͼ

The good thing about big libraries: there were lots of books to help you find what you were looking for.

The bad thing about big libraries: there were lots of books to help you find what you were looking for.

It was moments like this that Leon wished he had his sister’s head for academics. She could find the book she was looking for with minimal effort. But Leon didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

And he sure as hell wasn’t asking for help.

It took him hours and upon hours before he figured out he was looking in the wrong place. Powerful magic like that was illegal these days, which was honestly the most ridiculous thing that Leon had ever heard, but it was the kind of thing that would end up in a terrifying children’s story.

Which it was.

The Red Death.

Seemed appropriate, Leon supposed. It was a tragic story -but those were the best ones, weren’t they? - about an evil witch cursing a land that refused to bend to her whims, searching for a treasure she thought buried within the earth instead of in the heart of a small child. She burned everything away to ash only to find the treasure had been lost with the land she torched.

…how long had it been?

It had to have been more than a couple of centuries, long enough for history to become legend.

So…Leon was officially old, then. Yay for him. And he was the older twin.

[I’ll outlast you] she’d once said with certainty, smirking at him when he squawked in outrage. She was good at that, getting under his skin with a joke.

Or verbally shouting ��Coward!” over the roar of waves crashing against a shoreline.

That still stung.

Air whistled through the library and Leon shut the book he was looking through a bit louder than he meant to. Even if he wanted to look for his sister, he had no idea where to start. She had hated their house growing up, he’d never been allowed up to the temple devoted to her god, and he never knew where she and her friends traveled to when they were together.

A piece of parchment, appropriately ancient and ripped, like someone had shredded a page pulled from a book. It had a single name on it.

“What the hell is an Ahnankhem?” Leon demanded out loud.

[ptw30]

Happy Birth-week! Maybe the prompt motorcycles/hovercycles like a race or a getaway scene? I’ll leave the pairing up to you and the setting. :) (Lol at first I thought you were asking for short stories for your birthday and I was like “sure!” XD)

Title: The Family Business

Pairing: Gen 

Summary: The Voltron Paladins - a team of thieves, smugglers, and outlaws - are hunted by cartels, the FBI, and Shiro's father. Yeah, life isn't easy, but the team has each other. And that's all that matters.

---

Shiro stepped on the clutch and shifted, sending his Dodge Charger—which he affectionally called the Black Lion—soaring through the almost empty streets of Daibazaal.

“You know this is your fault,” he said. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed two black sedans chasing them. “You said we should take all the triggers.”

In the passenger seat, Allura typed furiously on her tablet. Dressed in a tight white and pink cold-shoulder top that cut just below her tighter-than-tight jeans, she looked more like a pop star than a high-profile thief. Her curly ponytail hit Shiro in the face when she shifted in her seat to look behind them.

“So then I am to assume you would have left the nuclear warhead triggers in the hands of not-quite-professional businessmen.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you’re saying that you would have left them in the hands of nefarious criminals.”

“As opposed to non-nefarious criminals?”

Allura laughed. “Well, we aren’t exactly law-bidding citizens.”

The car wheels squealed when Shiro eased up on the accelerator, cut the wheel, and then tore down the nearest alleyway. The shadows of night wouldn’t conceal their taillights, and when the Black Lion rocketed onto the street, the sedans still clung to his bumper.

“I’m just saying that stealing a trunk-load of military grade explosives by having Lance and Keith start a fight in the middle of black-market weapons depot might not have been the best course of action.”

“Then what would have been the best course of action? Trying to steal the triggers after Zarkon used them to start World War III?”

“Of course not. I’m just saying—”

“And you know Keith and Lance weren’t acting. Lance actually did take Red for a ride the other day and put a scratch in her chassis.”

Shiro let out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let me live in ignorance?”

Allura laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. “At least they worked it out of their—Quiznak.” Allura’s tablet let out a warning beep. “Red Paladin, Blue Paladin, we’re going to need your special brand of street cleaning.”

As the Black Lion passed a main thoroughfare, two motorcycles roared to life—a red Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R and a blue Yamaha YZF R1. The two racers wore protective jackets and helmets that matched their bikes, though the red racer’s jacket had black and yellow accents, while the blue racer’s uniform boasted red and yellow stripes. The motorcycles tore down the straightaway toward two more sedans that suddenly screeched to a halt in the middle of the street, blocking their path.

Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Does the Blue Lion have a red chassis now?”

“Yes! Keith defiled my baby!” Lance bemoaned across the team’s channel.

Keith huffed, and the Red Lion swerved to evade gunfire. “Stop whining and help me take these assholes out.”

“‘Stop whining.’” The Blue Lion hopped the sidewalk and used the streetlights as cover. “Well, if you hadn’t hurt my precious girl—”

“Your precious girl just got a new coat, something you hadn’t even bothered to—”

“Guys!” Shiro yelled, but Lance was already shifting gears. “Chill, Shiro. We’ve got this.”

Sure enough, Keith and Lance came to the middle of the street and wove between the car blockade. Two subsequent explosions sent the cars rocketing into the sky. The Black Lion poured it on then and zipped underneath the elevated cars, which eventually landed upon the chaser sedans.

“Good job, you two!” Shiro praised. “Now get to the rendezvous point ASAP and lock it down.”

“Yes, sir!” Keith’s crisp voice sounded over the connection, followed by Lance’s mocking tone once more. The twin motorcycles zoomed ahead and disappeared in the labyrinth of city streets.

Shiro could practically feel Allura’s penetrative stare give way to a self-assured smirk. “They make a good team.”

“As long as they don’t kill each other.”

“Oh, give them a bit more credit, Allura.” He waited a beat. “Keith would make it quick.”

“If Lance didn’t talk him to death first—and if that cartel doesn’t catch us.” Allura tapped on her tablet. “Green Lion, Yellow Lion, status report.”

Instead of a voice confirmation, a loud explosion echoed through the connection. Allura shot up in her seat. “Pidge! Hunk!”

A few loud hacks, followed by fits of coughing, and Pidge sucked in a deep breath. “I said not to denotate until we were a safe distance away!”

Shiro heaved a relieved sigh and heard Allura do the same.

“Oooh. I thought you said, ‘Let’s go for crème brulee,’” Hunk said between coughs.

Shiro could imagine Pidge throwing up her arms. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Hunk, Pidge, report,” Allura repeated, shaking her head. Shiro stepped on the gas for one final burst of speed, and the Black Lion entered the private airport.

“The facilities have been destroyed, Allura,” Hunk replied. “The rest is up to you and Shiro.”

So it was. Once Shiro spotted the Red and Blue Lions outside of a private hanger, he directed the Black Lion inside the massive area—devoid of any planes—and threw the car into park. Allura tossed him a nervous grin, which he returned, and they exited the car.

Only Keith and Lance occupied the hanger. No shelves, no airplane, no grease. Off to the side, a simple garage door lifted with eerie screeches that echoed through the empty space. Once it stopped, a rather tall man with slicked back hair, sunken eyes, and a thick chin entered the hanger between Lance and Keith. In a black suit with a purple tie, he looked like a wayward stockbroker, strides long, haughty, and loud. His eyes narrowed as he stopped before Shiro and Allura, arms spreading in a regal greeting.

“Ms. Altea. As always, a pleasure.”

“I assure you it most certainly is not,” Allura replied, manicured fingers clicking on her tablet.

Zarkon turned to Shiro without missing a beat. “Shiro, I appreciate you joining us.”

“We do agree there,” Allura snapped. “It is the only way you will survive, Zarkon.”

“Ironic, is it not? To think I am standing here with my former partner’s daughter who has taken my son as her own partner, despite knowing the history between our families.”

“Shiro isn’t a two-timing, egotistical psychopath like you,” Lance spat.

“But somehow he’s still entered the family business,” Zarkon retorted with an all-too-delighted grin.

Rather than replying, Shiro hit the car remote and popped the trunk. He lifted the back to reveal the triggers. “Here’s what you wanted from the Olkari Cartel, right?”

An amused, almost proud grin crossed his features. “I will need to inspect the merchandise.”

“Yeah, about that.” He slammed shut the trunk. “You’re not getting anywhere near these devices.”

Zarkon’s gaze was anything but tolerant. “We already agreed upon terms.”

“Yes, we did, but now I’m changing them. Ms. Altea, would you like to do the honors?”

“Thank you, Mr. Shirogane.” Allura stepped forward and handed her tablet to a suspicious-looking Zarkon. “That is a live feed from Langley, the ‘Other Matters’ subdivision, which you run.” She paused. “Ran. Our operatives Yellow Paladin and Green Paladin took care of your stronghold. Call it a retirement gift.”

“I thought we were calling it a ‘going away’ present,” Keith asked, arms crossed across his chest.

Lance giggled.

Keith rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You cannot get rid of me that easy,’” Zarkon growled. “No judge or jury in the world will convict me, not with my record. And no one will believe you—my son who became an international smuggler and his partner, the daughter of my former partner who died under investigation.”

“Yellow and Green transferred all your dark files to the Federal Bureau of Investigation before making the big kaboom,” Lance laughed. “Seriously, man? We have everything and we know everything.”

Zarkon’s thick fingers curled about the tablet. “You have to know this is futile. You can sell those triggers you stole to another foreign power. You can leave the country, hide in some remote island, and look over your shoulder for the rest of your life, but I will still find you. And I will end you.” He stared directly at Allura with demonic glee. “Just like I did your father.”

Allura didn’t even flinch. “Good luck doing that from a prison cell at Leavenworth.”

“FBI!” a booming voice echoed through the hanger. “On the ground now!”

A SWAT team stormed the front opening while a tall blond man came in from the back. He wore in a tight suit with a purple tie, dark slacks and a FBI jacket. Four female agents, all wearing similar garb to the lead agent, covered him from the entryway.

“I said on the floor, now!” the agent yelled at Zarkon.

Keith went down first, having gone through a similar situation before. Lance followed and muttered about this not being the greatest plan after all. Zarkon tried to rebuke the orders, but the familiar FBI agent—Lotor, Shiro noticed—wouldn’t have it.

Eventually, Zarkon met Shiro’s gaze once they were both handcuffed and lying face flat against the cold concrete.

“This isn’t over,” he threatened.

“Yes, it is,” Shiro insisted. “It was over the moment you decided your greed was more important than family.”

---

Shiro didn’t know how long he’d been waiting in the interrogation room, though he figured he would be the last one the FBI questioned. Pidge would be the first as the youngest, followed the soft-hearted Hunk, the smooth-talking Lance, the sharp-edged Keith, and then the regal Allura, if Lotor wasn’t intimidated. Then, and only then, would Lotor pay a visit to Shiro.

When he finally did, he wore a tired but true grin. “Special Agent Shirogane. I told you to get a team you could trust to have your back when I couldn’t be there. This was not what I had in mind.”

Shiro’s handcuffs jingled as he sat back in his seat. “You don’t like my choice of team members, Special Agent Sincline?”

Lotor sighed dramatically and dropped his tablet to the table, tapping the edge and bringing up five pictures. “An X Games Motor X gold medalist who was raised by smugglers and the silver medalist with whom he does not get along. At all. A red hat hacker who isn’t even old enough to graduate high school. A chef turned motocross mechanic. Oh, and the daughter of my father’s former CIA partner, whom he killed. That’s who you decided you could trust?”

Shiro tossed Lotor a teasing smile. “Jealous?”

“Of course,” Lotor replied, crossing his arms. “We’ve had each other’s backs since forever.”

“Since we were twelve.”

“Just because we weren’t together since diapers doesn’t change the fact that we grew up together. We went to Quantico together. And now I only get to see you for clandestine meetings and the occasional coffee.”

“But it’s good coffee.”

“You’re my brother, Shiro. I’m supposed to protect you.”

Shiro knocked his shoulder against Lotor’s knee. “And you do. You handle the bureau. I handle the criminals. If I didn’t trust you with everything, this couldn’t work.”

“Do you trust them with everything?” Lotor motioned toward the blackened two-way mirror. “Not one of them said anything. Just asked for water—or in one case, iced tea. Sweetened with lemon.”

“Lance…is high maintenance,” Shiro laughed, “but in the best way.”

Lotor huffed. “He asked for it to be sent to Pidge.”

“Of course, he did.”

“And Hunk asked me to make sure Lance was given appropriate bathroom breaks, and Keith asked if Lance was gagged and then asked if he could be.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Allura, however, asked me for pictures from our teenage years.”

Shiro blinked. “…I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“But they all asked about you.” Lotor clasped Shiro on the shoulder, firm and supportive. Lotor truly was his foundation, unwavering and firm. “I’m glad for you, Shiro. You deserve to have a family again.”

Shiro undid his handcuffs with a trick Keith taught him and reached up to cover Lotor’s hand. “I miss you, too, brother.”

“Hm.” Lotor held him a second longer than necessary, almost as if refusing to let Shiro go, but he eventually relented. A serious countenance overtook his face, and Shiro sat up straighter in response. Back to business.

“I’ve spoken with the higher-ups,” Lotor explained. “I’ll be in contact when Father goes to trial. You and your team might need to come in to testify, but right now, I suggest you find some place to lie low. Maybe a Caribbean island. A nice seaside Mexican resort. Disneyland. Stay off the radar and away from anyone Father might have worked with. Be safe.”

Shiro blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Unless you’re ready to come in from the cold.” Before Shiro could debate that question, let alone respond, Lotor flipped a switch. The two-way mirror went from black to transparent, revealing Shiro’s team on the other side. While four of his team members sat around a small table—Hunk was teaching Keith to pay some card game while Allura braided the longer strands of Pidge’s hair—Lance held a hand-drawn sign, scribbled on a yellow notepad, against the mirror.

Can we please have our Special Agent Shirogane back now?

Shiro thumbed toward the mirror. “Does he know I’m on the other side of this wall?”

Lotor’s eyes were narrowed; a look of confusion overtook his face. “How…did he get a marker and paper? That’s a monitored room. No one’s gone in there.”

Shiro simply shrugged. If his team was anything, it was resourceful.

Lotor crossed his arms and stared into the room, eyes resting upon the one person sitting on the right side of the table, talking to Hunk and Keith.

“Allura Altea. She’s…good to you?”

Shiro eyed Lotor. “Yeah. She’s my best friend. I trust her with my life.”

“But do you trust her with a picture of your teenage years?”

“I certainly can’t trust you.”

“That hurts, Brother.”

“You should have thought that before you showed Allura my awkward teenage years.”

Lotor rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like I showed her the pictures from comic con.”

---

“So…that’s it?” Hunk asked, watching as the black, non-descript FBI vans drove away. “We help to take down a dirty counterintelligence agent—”

“And blow up part of the CIA’s own headquarters,” Keith added.

“Only the bad part,” Pidge pointed out. “We left the rest still standing.”

“Yes, but that means we must lie low for a bit.” Allura walked toward a private jet on the tarmac. “Coran has been scouting new jobs for us and believes he’s found an interesting one. Shiro, how would you feel about visiting your childhood home, if you catch my drift?”

Shiro smiled. “Tokyo’s nice this time of year.”

“Smashing!” Coran greeted, lowering the stairs to the private plane. “Come along, Paladins! I’ve stocked the plane with all your favorite snacks along with the latest episodes of Riverdale and Legends of Tomorrow.”

Lance raced up the stairs. “Score! Dibs on the couch!”

“No!” Hunk whined. “You can’t call dibs until you’re on the stairs! Everyone knows that.”

Pidge raced after them while Keith turned to Shiro. “I’ll save you a seat and a pack of gummi bears.”

“Thanks, Keith.” Shiro stopped Allura at the end of the stairs, taking her hand in his. “Hey. If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here. You know that.”

Allura’s eyes trembled as they stared into Shiro’s. Tightening her grip, she looked away. “Thank you, Shiro. I know this mission was not easy for you, either. It must have been difficult arresting your father.”

“Yeah, well. Lotor technically arrested him, and we’ve been preparing for this day for a long time.”

“As have I, but…we’re never really ready for it, are we?”

Shiro’s heart ached, especially when he remembered the look of disdain Zarkon sent him as Lotor led him to the FBI van. However, it was nothing compared to what Allura must have felt when she received the call about her father.

“No, I guess we aren’t.”

Allura hummed. “It won’t get better. I’m not sure there is a better, but Zarkon will finally stand trial for his crimes. For that, I am grateful.”

“Me, too.” Shiro held up his phone with a picture of Allura with braces and short hair. “I’m also grateful for my new wallpaper.”

“Takashi Shirogane!” Allura’s hand shot out toward his phone, but Shiro managed to duck and head up the stairs. “Get back here! You’re going to tell me who got you that picture.”

“I’ll never give up my source.”

She caught up with him just inside the plane and playfully knocked him against the wall. “Hunk, Pidge, or your brother? It was your brother, wasn’t it?”

“It was actually Coran. He showed it to me the first time we met, along with every other baby picture he has of you.”

“Of course, he did. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an uncle to kill – I mean, fill in with our latest job.”

Shiro smiled, knocking her on the shoulder, and then headed to take inventory. Pidge and Lance took up the long couch, already halfway through the snacks, while Hunk sat in a reclining chair just to right next to them, his lap full of delicious treats. Keith lounged upon a loveseat and left a spot open for Shiro, while the seat next to it remained empty for Allura. She’d join them in a few.

As they took the skies, Shiro wondered not for the first time why Zarkon and Honerva took him in and taught him right from wrong, just to pervert those morals themselves. But he dismissed the thought quickly as he threw an arm about Keith and pulled him close. While he would forever regret the cycle of events that brought him to the world of drag racing and smuggling, he would forever cherish the family he found there –

Shiro’s phone vibrated with a message from Lotor.

Forgive me.

The cockpit’s door swung open to reveal Allura, a bright smile upon her face, her cellphone in her hand. “You cosplayed at comic con!”

– most days.

The End

---

Thanks for the prompt and birthday wishes! 

[sideofwritingsandramblings]

Day 3: Cannibalism: the (almost) bsd au

For @sheithmonth prev / on ao3 / next July 3rd - 24 Hours

Allura stood before them with a clipboard held tightly to her chest and Keith felt his stomach drop as he took in her grim expression, eyes downcast and mouth set in a thin line. Coran stood to her left and slightly behind her, and he was uncharacteristically quiet. Shiro stood close beside Keith, his human hand reaching for Keith’s own.

“It’s some kind of… virus,” Allura started, holding her clipboard out to them which Shiro took quickly, “A virus that in 24 hours will kill the both of you, unless we can find an antidote.”

“And what if we can’t find an antidote?” Shiro asked, “Is there anything else we can do?”

Allura and Coran shared a look, obviously keeping something from them. Keith could only assume it was even worse news.

“There is another way,” Coran started but seemed to struggle to find the words, “But-you see... it is a last resort. Under no circumstances will either of you consider this until the very last moment, do you understand?”

Keith could feel Shiro’s eyes on him but he stared ahead to Coran, dreading the words that would come next. They nodded and Keith felt Shiro squeeze his hand tightly.

“The virus has connected the two of you together. Your life forces anyway,” Coran continued, “If we can’t find a way to reverse it in time you both will die, unless… one of you dies first. If the connection is broken between the hosts, the virus will be destroyed with it.”

Keith closed his eyes, suddenly feeling the weight of both his own life and Shiro’s on his shoulders. It had only taken a split second and he already knew what he had to do. Shiro had already died once, and Keith was not going to let that happen again.

“Keith, look at me,” Shiro grabbed his shoulders to turn him and Keith slowly met his eyes, “We’ll figure this out.”

“I know Shiro,” Keith replied softly.

22 Hours Remain

When the paladins had first arrived on this small, seemingly harmless planet, they were simply answer a ship’s distress call that had crashed on its surface. They could have never expected the sinister virus that had spread itself across the planet. The Black Paladins had been the only two to go down to the planet’s surface, and they had unfortunately not taken the proper precautions. The moment they stepped off the ship they had been alerted by their suits that there was oxygen. Yet the suits didn’t account for what else was in the air.

The moment Shiro and Keith took a breath of the crisp air a strange sigil had appeared between them before disappearing just as quickly. But the damage had already been done and they were overcome with symptoms. Coughing, intense pain, and dizziness that had them both falling to their knees. They hardly got themselves back into the Black Lion and Keith struggled to pilot them back to the Atlas. Now they knew the crew of the crashed vessel had been killed by the virus long before Shiro and Keith had arrived on the scene.

And unfortunately, Allura’s diagnosis was incomplete. She knew what the virus would do to them but had no data on its origin or how to stop it. For now she could only give them pain meds to fight the symptoms.

Keith knocked his head back against the headrest of the Black Lion’s pilot chair. Shiro stood, an ever constant presence, behind him with his hand resting on Keith’s shoulder.

They had spent the past two hours in the lion scouring the surface of the small unnamed planet for any sign of intelligent life. Life that perhaps knew how to combat the virus. But no such luck. Sickeningly, they could only find empty ruins and sometimes alien remains, including those of the crew that had the unfortunate luck to crash on this hellish planet.

The other paladins were currently doing their part to rescue their infected comrades. Pidge was contacting every single ally they had to see if any information was known about the virus. Lance and Hunk had gone down to the surface in reinforced suits to collect samples of the fauna that might have produced the virus. And Allura and Coran took those samples to study.

Allura was convinced that the virus had started as a natural illness but dark magic had been used to enhance its effects, thus explaining the magic sigil Shiro and Keith had seen. However, that would imply there was a caster and perhaps if they could find them, they could reverse the spell.

“But why would someone make a virus like that worse?” Lance had asked, annoyed.

“I can only assume that it was used as some kind of biological warfare,” Allura replied, “If you can affect multiple enemies they would either die or be forced to kill one another to survive.”

“That’s so fucked up!” Pidge cried, "But we can stop it, right?"

"I… I don't know," Allura replied sadly, "But we have to try everything we can."

Keith heard a groan of pain from behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He reached his hand back to cover Shiro’s but kept his eyes on the planet below. Keith also felt a stab of pain in his stomach, one of the many symptoms of the virus, and could only imagine how much worse it might get as they get closer to the end.

They searched for hours but came up empty.

There was no avoiding the heavy exhaustion that overcame the Black Paladins as time wore on. They only had just over half a day remaining, but they were forced to retreat back to the Atlas, both almost asleep on their feet.

The symptoms were taking a lot out of them and the pain was just getting worse.

Shiro pulled Keith by the hand into their room and down onto the bed. Keith snuggled as close as he could, hugging Shiro tightly to his chest. They would only sleep for an hour, it was decided, and despite their dire situation Keith drifted off quickly.

12 Hours Remain

Keith awoke, feeling a little bit better, and reached out to pull Shiro closer.

But the space beside him was empty.

He shot upright from the bed, already in panic, but was immediately calmed when he saw Shiro sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Keith edged quietly towards him, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s shaking frame.

“I was going to leave,” Shiro admitted quietly.

“I know. I’ve thought about it too.”

Shiro turned to look at him and Keith could see the pain and grief in Shiro’s gaze, “Keith, I can’t let you die. You have to let me go.”

Keith shook his head, arms tightening, “I’ve already mourned you twice. You can’t do this to me again Shiro. I can’t do it again. We… we’ll just have to go together.”

Shiro let out a shuddering breath, twisting on the bed to hug Keith back. Keith moved his hands to instead cradle Shiro’s face and then leaned forward to press a kiss to Shiro’s forehead. And then to the scar across his nose and his cheeks, until he finally gave in and kissed him properly.

There was a desperation in this kiss that Keith had never experienced. Sure they’ve had adrenaline fueled kisses before and after missions, but this? This was Shiro pushing Keith down into the mattress and practically devouring him.  It was like they couldn’t get close enough.

How could they possibly get close enough when they had so little time left? Keith felt dizzy and he no longer knew if it was a symptom of the virus or their breathless kisses.

They moved against one another, and Keith took his time exploring Shiro’s body, committing every moan and breathless sigh Shiro made to memory. And as they lay panting after they found release, Keith knew he had no regrets. If this was where his life would end, he had been so lucky to meet and have Shiro. That was enough.

6 Hours Remain

Pidge slammed their hands down on the table, “There has to be something else we can do!”

The rest of the table remained silent, and it started to sink in just how hopeless their situation had become. Shiro and Keith were both bedridden, the full effects of the virus taking hold.

Allura and Coran had successfully replicated the antidote to the natural virus but, due to the nature of the dark magic, the antidote alone couldn’t reverse the damage. Pidge had also had no luck discovering any information from their allies either. No one had seen or heard of this planet or its virus before. Their only chance was to find the original caster. However, between Keith and Shiro’s visual search and the Atlas’ own scans for life, they all came up completely empty. It was possible the caster wasn't even on the planet anymore.

“Wh-What if we could find another one of those clone bodies of Shiro?” Hunk started, “I mean maybe if his soul was transferred to a new body… wouldn’t that be enough to break the spell?”

“Perhaps,” Allura replied, “But we’re not even sure if any of the clone bodies survived Keith and Kuron’s fight. And, even if we could find one in time, I’m honestly not sure that Shiro will survive yet another body transfer.”

Pidge sat for a few more minutes listening to the conversation but could tell it was going nowhere. They couldn’t just waste all their time here talking. They had to do something now.

Pidge stood from the table and walked away without looking back.

2 Hours Remain

Shiro had been passed out for a while now and it was easy enough for Keith to sneak out of bed and slip out of the room without anyone noticing. The pain had spread from his stomach to his lungs and throat and, honestly, everywhere just ached. He knew there wasn’t much time left. And he’d already made up his mind. He’d wait, like Coran said, for the very last moment. But when that moment came, he’d be ready to make the sacrifice.

He was not going to let Shiro die.

Keith stumbled his way into the hanger, bypassing the Black Lion to instead jump into a small fighter jet that had been assembled and brought from Earth. He entered the various launch codes and prepared himself. For a moment he hesitated. He wanted so badly to go back to their room, press himself close to his lover, and spend his last moments alive in Shiro’s arms. But then they would both die.

Taking a deep breath Keith started up the engine and resolved himself. However, just as he began to lift off, the sigil from before reappeared in front of him, burned brightly for a moment, and then burst in front of his eyes.

2 Hours Remain (but somewhere else)

Pidge coughed into their hand, ignoring the blood that collected on their glove. It had been four hours since Pidge first touched down on the virus’ planet and 2 hours since they’d taken off their helmet. Just as suspected, however, since they were the only living creature on the planet, only the natural virus was taking effect and the sigil hadn’t yet appeared.

Pidge stopped in front of another large scattering of ruins and placed their hand on the side of one of the broken walls that was covered in vines. They closed their eyes. The Olkari had taught them everything they needed to know about connecting with nature, and yet another scene appeared before them.

Pidge saw a memory of a group of druids running into what once had been a large cathedral-looking building and disappearing underneath the ground. Pidge opened their eyes and ran to the spot on the ground where they’d vanished, finding it covered with rotten wooden boards. It took a little while to cut through and move them aside, but below them was a stairwell leading underground.

Pidge followed, finding an old, dusty hallway that eventually led out into a large open room. In the center was a dark orb of quintessence and behind that, with its hands pressed against the orb, was a single druid.

Immediately drawing their bayard, Pidge readied to go on the attack, but the druid didn’t appear to notice them.

“Hey!” Pidge yelled at it, but still the druid did not move, “If you’re the one controlling the virus, I’m going to need you to stop!”

Pidge threw out their bayard and it connected with the druid’s mask, ripping it off, and Pidge froze in shock when they realized the druid was dead. The figure was still hunched over the orb, somehow generating energy, but all that was left of the druid itself were bones covered in its tattered robe.

“Okay, that’s horrifying,” Pidge said, pulling back their bayard and taking aim for a second shot.

Lining it up, they threw it again but this time connected directly with the orb, knocking it out of the druid’s hands and onto the floor. The glass container cracked and dark energy began to spill out.

“That can’t be good.”

The druid’s skeletal face snapped up to look at Pidge with glowing red eye sockets.

“Oh shit!”

Pidge didn’t wait to watch what would happen next, running out of the room before the druid could figure out how to move its skeletal legs. P idge ran down the hallway, up the stairs, and tore out of the ruins. They called out to their Lion the whole time and luckily the Green Lion was ready and waiting when they burst outside. Without even hesitating the Green Lion shot from her tail behind Pidge, where the druid had been catching up. Pidge turned back in time to see the druid get knocked back and a large sigil appear in front of it before exploding in a burst of light.

The druid collapsed and Pidge decided to get the fuck out of there.

When Pidge returned to the hanger, Keith was waiting for them.

“You actually did it,” he said with a tired smile.

“Sure. Yeah. No problem, but why are you not in bed!” Pidge scolded, helping Keith stand up and pulling him back towards their rooms by his hand, “Allura still needs to treat the virus with the antidote now that the spell is broken. You could still die if you’re not careful!”

“It looks like you need the antidote too,” Keith shot back, elbowing Pidge in the side.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be fine,” Pidge replied, and Keith could swear he saw tears in their eyes.

“You okay? You didn’t get hurt down there?”

“I’m fine, it’s just… We almost didn’t make it. If it wasn’t for what I learned from the Olkari, I never would have found the source of the magic in time. You and Shiro would have both died and we would have just had to sit there and watch.”

Keith didn’t speak for a moment, letting himself get pulled down the hallways of the Atlas. He didn’t tell Pidge that Shiro would have been fine in the end. But if he could guess from the looks they were giving him, Pidge already knew why Keith had been in the hanger.

“You’re not allowed to die either, okay?”

Keith smiled, still unused to having so many people who cared about him, “Okay.”

2 Hours Later

With the antidote distributed to the three paladins, Shiro, Keith, and Pidge were already on their way to a full recovery.

The moment Pidge and Keith had walked through the bedroom door Shiro had pulled them both into a tight hug. Keith knew that Shiro was going to chew him out later for leaving in the first place, but for now they simply took the time to appreciate being alive.

Pidge had gone back to their own room to rest and Allura went about preparing the Atlas for launch so that Shiro didn’t have to. The rest of the team was working on alerting all of their allies about the planet and its virus.

Now that a couple of hours have passed the symptoms have mostly abated, and Shiro and Keith were finishing off some delicious food goo prepared by Hunk.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” Keith said softly, avoiding Shiro’s eyes as they cuddled close on their couch.

“I know how stubborn you can be. Honestly I should have handcuffed us together,” Shiro teased, pressing a kiss to the side of Keith’s head, “You really scared me when I woke up and you weren’t there. When the sigil was destroyed I was sure you were-”

Shiro cut off, unable to say it out loud.

“I’m just... glad you’re back,” Shiro said instead.

Keith finally met Shiro’s eyes again, “It’s good to be back.”

[blayzez]

Welp. This got out of hand quickly.

Relationship: Klance

Word Count: 1,890

Rating: Teens & up

Keith is walking with Acxa; they're only going over plans to help the Blade with a mission -- Keith is too gay for the two of them to be anything more than friends.

Movement catches Keith's eye, and he looks over to see Lance laughing with Allura. Keith jerks his head back to Acxa, though he's not listening anymore, a ball of jealousy wringing his insides. He knew this would happen, knew Lance and Allura would end up together at some point, but knowing didn't make it less painful. He had tried and he had failed; either Lance didn't notice or didn't reciprocate. Either way, Keith was left out to dry and Lance was free to do whatever he wanted. He just wished the rejection didn't hurt so much.

It's too bad Keith turned away as quickly as he did, or he would have seen the look Lance gave him, similar feelings to Keith’s brewing in his own stomach.

He had wanted Allura for so long, so why wasn't he happy now that he has her?

----

Keith is leaving for the mission he and Acxa had planned. Earth is doing relatively well, so Team Voltron can do without Keith for a bit. This mission is looking to be dangerous, too; they're going to infiltrate the main Galra ship to gather intel and maybe weaken Honerva's crew. Keith has already come to terms with the fact that he may not return.

And that's why he does what he does, why he pulls Lance aside when everyone is seeing him off.

"What's wrong?" Lance asks, concern -- so much of it that it makes Keith's heart hurt -- coating his voice in its warmth.

"Nothing's wrong," Keith corrects, avoiding eye contact. Why is this so hard? Taking a deep breath, he begins, "Look, this is going to be a-- a pretty tough mission--"

"Yeah, but you're you, so you'll be fine," Lance's confidence is not strong, the waver in his voice giving away that he's seen the dark implication behind Keith's words.

"Let me finish," Keith huffs. He sighs, closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them and locks them onto Lance's. "There's something you need to know."

Lance looks like he wants to stop Keith, but he stays quiet -- out of curiosity or something else, Keith isn't sure but is no less grateful.

"Lance, I--"

Lance breaks. "Keith, stop it. Whatever--" he sucks in a deep breath when his voice shakes and cracks, steeling himself up. "Whatever you have to say, just tell me when you get back."

"Lance--"

"Because you're going to come back, okay?"

"Lance, liste-"

"Keith, no, don't do this--"

"LANCE!"

Keith surges forward and grabs Lance's hands, pulling Lance close. They're so close that if Keith leaned towards the other boy just a little more, their lips would meet. Keith pushes that thought away.

"I'm in love with you," he says, voice considerably quieter.

Lance falls silent, his eyes as wide as they can go.

"I just... I needed you to know that before I left."

More silence. Keith takes that as the rejection he had expected. He removes his hands from Lance's and steps back, looking away.

"That-- That was it. I'll be going."

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves, Lance staring after him in shock. Keith is already in the Galra cruiser by the time Lance manages, "Wait..."

----

That stupid mission that stupid Keith had planned with stupid Acxa had been a trap. Because of course it had. As a result, Team Voltron is now on a rescue mission led by Lance.

After they found out that Honerva had captured Keith, the Black Lion was insistent that Lance be its new temporary pilot. Allura ended up taking over Red in Lance's place and Shiro took over Blue in her place. It was a mess, but once they got Keith back, everything could go back to normal, Lance hoped.

So he led them straight to Honerva's ship, naming Pidge and Hunk as their MVPs since it was their intel on the ship and its surrounding fleet that allowed Team Voltron to infiltrate mostly unnoticed.

Once inside, Lance ordered they all split up; Pidge and Hunk in one direction, Allura and Shiro in two other directions, and Lance down a long hallway. The sooner they found and saved Keith, the better.

Lance was the one who found him, but the not the way he had expected.

"Keith!" he shouts, jubilant that Keith is alive and well and... not imprisoned, apparently?

Keith's back is to him, and when he looks over his shoulder at the Blue Paladin, Lance's stomach drops; Keith's eyes are a vicious, glaring yellow, and his grin is terrifying to look at, not at all suiting Keith's rugged face.

"Lance."

The voice is almost mechanical, corruption and malice dripping from Keith's mouth at the name. Lance has never been more afraid.

Keith turns around and steps forward, his Galra blade activated as he prowls towards Lance.

"... Keith?" Lance's voice is much softer than he intended, and it breaks halfway through Keith's name, but emotion is engulfing Lance like a wave and he can't control it right now.

Keith raises his blade, his grin becoming a smirk. "What's wrong, Lance?" he asks smoothly, and a chill runs up Lance's spine at the sound of it.

"Keith, don't do this," Lance pleads, begs really, pulling out his own sword to ready his defense.

Keith says nothing. They circle each other for a moment before Keith rushes forward and swings his blade expertly at his opponent; Lance lifts up his blade and blocks Keith's attack just in time.

"Keith!" Lance cries out, hoping against all odds that Keith will wake up, will return to him.

No such luck.

Quickly, the room is filled with the sound of clashing blades, of grunts and groans, of Lance's pleas and Keith's cruel taunts.

A loud klang sounds as the two blades meet harshly. With a burst of strength, Lance manages to push Keith's blade away, stunning Keith momentarily with the force of it. Lance sees his opening, and he takes it.

Grabbing Keith by his free hand, Lance pulls him close and presses his lips to Keith's, like Keith had desired before this all started.

But Keith isn't Keith right now and this isn't a sappy romance novel. This kiss is not enough; rather, Keith takes this as his chance and, while Lance is distracted, runs Lance through with his blade. Lance cuts off the kiss with a choked sound.

The sight of Lance severely injured and in pain stirs something inside Keith, and he shouts in anger, "Why don't you just give up?!"

When Lance's answer comes, it's soft but firm, "I'm not giving up on you," and a memory of another battle with a loved one, a loved one that said those exact words to him multiple times when Keith needed to hear them most, swims into Keith's mind. And he's jolted out of his trance at that, at the realization that he is on the other side of the battle this time, is the one hurting the loved one this time, and the pain of that knowledge hurts Keith so much he can't stand it, so much that he's suddenly awake and catching a slumping Lance in his arms.

"Lance!" he chokes out. Lance's wound is gaping on his abdomen and realizing that he's the one that did that causes grief to rip through him. He falls to his knees and cradles Lance to his chest.

Lance smiles feebly, which sends needles into Keith's heart. "Welcome back, Team Leader," he manages hoarsely. Keith presses his forehead to Lance's, eyes tight with pain.

"Stay with me, Lance," he begs in a whisper, voice cracking. "You're stronger than this, just stay alive until Allura gets here, okay?"

"Hey," Lance says softly, ignoring Keith's pleas. "I didn't get the chance to tell you before. I love you, too."

Keith has to work very hard to keep from crying. "Don't do this. Tell me later, when we're back on Earth."

Somehow, Lance chuckles. "Shoe's on the other foot now," he jokes weakly. "How's it feel?"

It takes Keith a moment to figure out that Lance is referencing the last time they spoke, when Keith was leaving on this mission. He gives Lance a small smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Honestly? It sucks."

Lance chuckles again, his laughter turning into coughs. Keith holds him closer. They quiet after that, Lance eventually slipping into unconsciousness.

"Lance?!" Keith exclaims, panicked. He presses his ear to Lance's chest, lays a hand on Lance's stomach, and breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the heartbeat and feels Lance's lungs filling and emptying. Keith can only pray Allura gets to them soon.

Luckily, she does. She stops moving the moment she sees the situation before her.

"Allura," Keith begs, voice breaking. "Please, he's dying." And suddenly, he can't keep the words from spilling out, "I did it, I didn't mean to, didn't want to, I was forced to fight him and I hurt him, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please, I don't want to be the reason he dies, please, Allura--"

He cuts off when Allura places her hands on his cheeks and pulls him in for a small hug.

"I understand," she tells him quietly, soothingly, before pulling away and looking solemnly at Lance.

Reacting to the unspoken command, Keith lays Lance down onto the floor and backs up slightly, crouching on his knees. The rest of the time is watching from the room's entryway, but Keith pays them little mind.

Allura's hands begin to glow as she places them on Lance's head. The color is a beautiful blue, a shade of blue that Keith has come to associate with Lance and only Lance, and Keith realizes belatedly that that's Lance's quintessence. Moments later, Allura is retracting her no-longer-glowing hands, and Lance is blinking his eyes open.

"Lance!" Keith bursts out, leaning over the blue paladin.

Lance's eyes find him immediately, and once their eyes lock, Lance smiles -- tired, but big. "Hey."

"Welcome back, Sharpshooter," Keith says fondly before enveloping Lance in a hug.

Lance wraps his arms around Keith's shoulders, tucking his face into Keith's neck. He can feel wetness against his own throat, where Keith's face is pressed into and where a few tears have spilled from Keith's eyes. He pulls back and uses his thumbs to wipe the tears from Keith's cheeks, smiling affectionately at Keith and getting a matching one in return.

Then, under some unspoken agreement, they move as one to close the distance between them, their lips pressing together gently but almost desperately.

Allura looks shocked at first, but her expression melts into something warm and happy; Lance deserves this happiness, and she wants him to have it.

Shiro watches the boys with a mixture of relief, pride, and happiness; Keith deserves this, and he's glad he won't have to hear Keith's constant stream of complaints over how annoyingly attractive and charming Lance is.

Hunk is bawling with happy tears, a teary-eyed Pidge hugging him in comfort.

After a moment, Lance and Keith break apart and look at their team, satisfaction and contentment softening their features.

They have their family, and finally, they have each other.

[khellamendrawrites]

Future in Your Eyes

“Be with the ones you love.”

That had been his order for their last day on Earth but they have to keep their love a secret. Now with the last big fight on the horizon, they want to go into it with no regrets.

Pairings: Shiro x Lance

“Be with the ones you love.”

That had been his order for their last day on Earth. It wasn't as if he didn't have people to spend it with. Keith would have gladly done so but Shiro had opted to stay away. The new leader if Voltron had his mother back, Shiro hadn't wanted to intrude. This was their time, time for all of the paladins to spend with families they wouldn't see for who knew how long.

So he had declined any invitations thrown his way. The only exception he had made was for Iverson. Even then it was only because he knew the Commander didn't have anyone. It had been a nice, long coming talk. By the end of it, he was emotionally and physically exhausted but happy all the same.

The sound of the buzzer pulled him from his thoughts. Glancing at the glowing display he ran hands through his hair. There was only one person that would come to him at this hour. One that he wanted to see more than anyone else.

“Come in.”

Lance walked in, hands in familiar jacket pockets. Shiro tried to recall a time when he wore it over his Garrison uniform but came up blank. He remembered how happy Lance had been when they had returned to Earth. The look on his family's face had been the real highlight. Shiro would have given anything to be able to be a part of that moment.

The former Blue Paladin had been the one to bring up the idea of a relationship. They had been dancing around each other for a while. Lance had been struggling with his attraction to someone that wasn't a girl and Shiro didn't think it was appropriate to be with a seventeen-year-old subordinate.

Except Lance was too observant for his own good. The boy had started pushing his luck and making a comment here or there. More than once he had caught Shiro off guard, causing him to slip. The small victorious smile that Lance would try to hide, let Shiro know he was in trouble. He still tried but Lance was also persistent as Keith could attest.

When they had been stranded in a cave, waiting for a sand storm to pass, Lance had seen his chance. Lance was so vibrant and yes maybe Shiro did crave companionship. After everything he has been through in the arena and in general, he had to admit he didn't see why he couldn't be a little selfish. They were in space fighting a war and putting their lives on the line.

So after a long talk, Shiro had given it a chance. With strict rules of course. Most of which Kuron quickly tossed aside much to Shiro's annoyance.

That had been over a year and now they were back on Earth. The only thing that had really changed was how much he loved Lance.

Shifting from one foot to the other, the boy gave Shiro a shy smile. “I kind of figured you'd still be awake but I wasn't sure.”

Smiling, Shiro moved over and patted the empty space next to him. Lance hesitated, staring at the offered spot before closing the distance. Plopping down next to Shiro, hands still remained in pockets. After a moment he pressed his shoulder to Shiro's.

Putting his arm around the other, it only took a moment for Lance to settle against him. Combing fingers through hair, he listened to the soft rustle of fabric. He could feel a hand moving against his thigh recklessly. “What's going on in your head, Kitten?”

Teeth worried over a lower lip. “It's really happening, isn't it? Soon everything we've been working towards, the whole reason we even started this whole thing, it's all about to be over.”

Shiro nodded. “Hopefully, yes.”

Brows furrowed and hands shifted more inside pockets. “Even though I know it's supposed to be all serious and stuff, we've had a lot of fun too. Seen things I do think I ever would have been able to see much less imagine. And,” he glanced up shyly at Shiro, cheeks tinged pink. “I would have never gotten to be with you.”

Blue eyes darted away just as quickly, the red deepening. “All of this has been a journey I'll never forget but…”

Shiro waited but for all the subtle fidgeting, Lance didn't continue. Instead, teeth were working at his lip again. Fingers gently tugged a hair. “But what?”

“But what if we don't all make it?”

Such a simple question managed to steal the breath from him. He had expected some nerves, a little bit of fear even. Not this. “Lance you can't think like that-”

“But I have to.” Lance shifted in arms. Hands had finally left pockets to settle on a chest as deep blue starring with more intensity than someone his age should. “We're about to go back into space after finally getting back to Earth, to fight some super powerful enemy that we don't know much about. I know Voltron is supposed to be able to save the universe or whatever but will we all come back? If I don't-”

“You will,” Shiro interjected quickly.

The boy shook his head. “There's no guarantee of that. I was in Red and it still happened. You had Black and you-” Lance sucked in a shaky breath, fingers worrying over Shiro's shirt. They had talked about all of this at great length but Shiro's chest still aches at the mention of it. The memory of when he had thought Lance had died on the field right before Red saved him still gave the captain nightmares. The brunette had admitted Shiro almost rejecting the new arm had woken him on more than one occasion.

“I don't want to go into this fight with any regrets this time. I know that how I feel about you is real and it's important. I don't care that we can't tell the others, as long as you know. I love you, Takashi.” Eyes looked away again and he watched as even the tips of ears turned red. “And I want to stay the night if that's okay.”

Opening his mouth, nothing came out as his mind struggled to catch up, too caught up on one word.

Regret.

He had left the man he thought he would spend the rest of life with, on earth. So many things had been left unsaid between them that he never got to take back. No matter how many times he said them in front of that wall, the guilt still ate at him.

The things he had meant to say before the battle with Zarkon, to tell Lance how much he meant to the then Black Paladin. They had hastily separated before Hunk could catch them, casting each other looks before getting in their respective lions.

Instead, his clone had done it for him. Had robbed him of a lot of firsts with Lance. Ones he could have had if he hadn't hesitated. If Allura hadn't been able to move his consciousness or save his arm? If she hadn't been there when Lance had taken that hit? They owed her so much.

“Marry me.”

Lance stared up at him, impossibly blue eyes wide. “What?” He asked, voice so soft Shiro might have missed it if he wasn't looking into that cute face. The same one that made his heart soar and ache. That had spent so many times helping him feel normal and reassured him. The same that had been stained with tears too many times. The one he wanted to protect.

“You're right, I don't want to have any more regrets. I've let too many moments pass me by, too many things that I never got to say.” Hands cupped a face, tracing over a cheek and catching a tear. He smiled. “I love you and I would be honored to take this journey with you as my husband.”

A face scrunched up and for a split second, he thought maybe that was too much. As soon as Lance threw himself at Shiro the anxiety calmed and he hugged back just as tightly. “Yes! Absolutely yes! B-but now? How? We leave tomorrow.”

“I know we do. Would you be willing to do it tonight? I know someone that can do it for us.” Shiro pulled up the holoscreen, sending out a quick message. It took only a moment for him to get a response. Reading the message, it brought another smile to his face. Shiro knew he could always count on him for anything. “It won't be anything fancy and I don't even have rings for us but-”

Pulling back, Lance grabbed Shiro's face and pressed a kiss to lips. Pressing their foreheads together he smiled. “All I need is for you to be there. Nothing else matters.”

“Alright, but we can at least change into something a little better. You got your new uniform I'm assuming.”

Perking up, Lance nodded. “Yeah I did and it looks amazing! I tried it on and I looked nice if I do say so myself.”

Shiro chuckled. “Good, then go put it on and we'll meet up. I can't wait to see you in it.” Nodding, Lance almost knocked the wind out of him in his haste to get up. He was about to leave before coming back for another kiss.

“I'll be waiting for you, Kashi.”

Those few words chased away any doubts that might have lingered, even after Lance finally left.

---------

Fingers straightened out the black and white uniform for the fifth time. He knew Lance would show but he still felt awkward standing the hall in the middle of the night. Shiro felt hyper-aware of everything as he waited. He wanted to do this, was more than ready.

When someone cleared their voice he turned. “Hey, I almost thought you got cold fee- Matt!” Coughing, he tried to cover up the slip. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be asleep? We do leave tomorrow you know.”

Matt didn't even try to hide the grin, twirling a flower in his hand. “I could ask you the same thing but I know we don't have a lot of time. Pidge is already inside with Coran. Hunk and Allura intercepted Lance. I, am here for you.”

“Aren't I supposed to ask you to be my best man first?” Shiro teased.

Matt scoffed. “We both knew it would be me. Well me or Keith but, well anyway.” He held out the gardenia. “Felt like this would be appropriate.”

Pulling out a pin, he stepped forward and carefully attached it to the uniform. Shiro ran fingers over the delicate petals. “Not exactly as secret as I thought. Thanks, Matt.”

“Mom grabbed a few for a kind of makeshift bouquet thing. It's nothing special, they just barely look like she didn't rip them straight out of the ground but you didn't exactly give us any warning. You'll see them when you see Lance. Oh and mom said to tell you that once this is all over with, that you two have to have another wedding so they can be there.”

Getting choked up he nodded. “Of course.”

Matt patted him on the back. “Come on, before they show up. Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

As soon as they stepped inside Coran immediately pulled him into a bone crushing hug. “I can't believe the day has finally come.” Matt tried to console the suddenly weeping Altean. Romelle looked incredibly clueless behind him.

“I thought this was a good thing? Is something bad going to happen? Is he not showing up?” She asked.

Matt laughed. “Oh no, he is. He would be here already if we hadn't caught him first.

“Allura says they're coming here now. We need to get Shiro into place.” Pidge urged.

Coran sat him back on his feet and clasped his shoulders. “I'm so proud of you my boy, of both of you. You both've been through a lot but I'm grateful to be here for this moment. Well, go on them.” Stepping back he twirled his mustache. “As a great leader once said, go be great.”

Letting Matt lead him towards the front of the room, he took a deep breath.

“Nervous?”

Shiro wiped a stray tear away and shook his head. “I've never been more ready. Thank you for agreeing to do this. It means a lot to me, Keith.”

The former Red Paladin's face broke out into a smile as they embraced. “I'm honored you wanted me to do this. Seeing you this happy is the best thing I could ask for. You deserve it and I'm grateful I get to be here for it.”

“We're here!” Allura rushed into the room, smoothing her pink uniform down and adjusting her hair. “Oh, you're already in place, perfect. Should I let Hunk know to bring him in?” She asked.

Exchanging a look, Keith nodded. “Yeah, we're ready.”

Just as Allura joined Coran and Romelle, the door opened and Shiro forgot about all else.

The uniform was just like everyone else's but it somehow managed to look like perfection on Lance. The blue seemed to magnify his eyes and Shiro was pretty sure he had forgotten how to breathe. Cheeks were tinged pink though Shiro caught the look of surprise when eyes landed on Keith. His heart skipped a beat when they turned on him again.

A few gardenias were clenched in a trembling hand, the other wrapped around Hunk's arm. Someone had placed a spider lily behind one ear.

“You look amazing,” Shiro said in awe, looking Lance up and down. Holding out his hand, Lance took it, still holding onto the poor flowers as Hunk moved aside. “I can't believe I'm this lucky.”

“I can't believe mullet here is the person you were talking about.” Lance winked at Keith. “Then again there isn't anyone better.”

Keith made a show of rolling his eyes, a small smile playing over lips. “Let's just get this started already.” When they both nodded, he continued. “Earlier today, I told you that I knew you would always have my back. I also said that you know exactly who you are and what you have to offer. I meant it. I know that sometimes you have doubts, but there is no one I am more proud to have the chance to marry Shiro too.”

Lance choked back tears. “Keith…”

“Tomorrow, we start the last part of our journey as defenders of the universe but today the two of you start the beginning of your own journey. Would you like to say your own vows?”  

Nodding enthusiastically, Lance handed Hunk his flowers. Taking both of Shiro's hands, squeezed them rightly. “Kashi I admired you for a long time. I had this image of what I thought you were. When I met you, when I got to actually know you I saw all the flaws hidden underneath and I realized,”

Lance smiled through the tears. “That you were so much better than I imagined. You are my hero but not for the childish reasons from before. Because you are so strong even when you think you aren't. Because you always put others first and because you never give up, no matter how hard it gets. You inspire me and encourage me and I will never forget everything you've done for me. Thank you, for loving me.”

Hands shaking, Shiro squeezed the warm hands in his own. “L-Lance-” his voice broke and he swallowed thickly before trying again. “Lance your light is so bright and you have come so far from the person I first met. Anytime it feels like the darkness might swallow me up, I look for you. I thought seeing space would be the highlight of my life but I stand by what I said, you are cooler than space. You are my northern star. No matter what, all I have to do is look to you to know I'm home.”

Keith cleared his throat, voice a little rougher than before. “Let's continue. Do you, Lance Charles McClain, take Takashi Shirogane to be your husband, no matter what the future might throw at you?”

Lance smiled. “I do.”

“And do you Takashi Shirogane take Lance Charles McClain to be your husband, no matter how many long-winded conversations he pulls you into. Regardless of how much whining he does and the bad pick up lines-”

“Keith!”

Shiro laughed. “I absolutely do.”

Keith grinned. “Then it is my greatest pleasure to declare you husband and husband. You may kiss.”

Wrapping arms around Lance, he pulled a smaller frame against his. Hands rested against his chest as he pressed their foreheads together. Lance chewed on a bottom lip, smiling with an intensity that Shiro was sure matched his own. He wasn't sure who made the first move or if they had just done it together. The only thing he remembered was the feeling of warm lips against his own and the cheering of their friends around them.

Neither of them knew what tomorrow would bring, but they would face it together.

[it-has-the-gay-fanfiction]

Kill me with Lance and Keith. Good luck ;)

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character killing another.

{Screammmmmmmmmm. Okay okay… I think I can do this. I hate character death so let’s see how this turns out. Got this done same day, bam!! Enjoy!}

[Warning: Major Character Death(?)]

Lance hadn’t felt so great lately, not since he died saving Allura from the energy surge at the Omega Shield. He had thought for sure that someone would have noticed, that someone would have comforted him or at least spoken to him about it. Even if it wasn’t to comfort, Lance at least expected Pidge to be grilling him about what it felt like to die, if only from a purely scientific view and not that of a friend or teammate. None of that happened though… I guess no one cares enough to mention it. Maybe they think I’m fine… maybe they wish I would have died. A punch to the stomach brought Lance out of his thoughts. Lance coughed and stumbled backwards. It seemed that he had gotten so caught up in his thoughts that he had forgotten that they were training.

“Pay attention, Lance.” Allura rolled her eyes at the coughing red paladin on the ground. Ever since Allura found out that Lance used to be a little bit in love with her, it seemed that she was no longer pulling her punches. Lance thought that maybe he would get some sympathy from her for well… literally dying for her, but apparently not. Apparently, his heroic act was looked over in favor of beating her rejection into him.

“S-sorry, won’t happen again.” Lance stood back up on shaky legs, the ground feeling like it was rolling under him. They had landed on a planet to restock on rations and to stretch their legs for a little while. Allura had started right out with the drill sergeant thing because apparently even though the castle ship was gone didn’t mean that they could slack on their training. Lance readied himself again, but dropped his stance in confusion when Allura sighed and stepped back.

“Keith, will you spar with Lance? It seems that I am a distraction to him.” Allura called over to the newly reinstated black paladin. Keith nodded and walked over to them, allowing Allura to leave and throw a quick ‘thank you’ over her shoulder as she did so.

Lance sighed and rubbed his temples. “Hey man. Guess you pulled the short stick… I don’t need you to babysit me, I can go train on my own.”

Keith scoffed, “Seriously? You’re that upset about getting your ass handed to you that you won’t even spar with me?”

“Keith my good buddy, I’m tired and I want to go lay down. I haven’t been feeling well since the whole Omega Shield incident. So can we just pack it up?” Lance sighed again and returned his bayard to its handle form.

“That’s not good enough! You need to get stronger. We are supposed to be the defenders of the universe. How can we be when our ‘sharpshooter’,” Keith put air quotes around the word and sneered at Lance, his eyes flashing yellow, before continuing, “doesn’t want to train?”

Lance let out a pained noise and stepped back, a hand flying to his chest as if he could protect his heart from the pain. “Wh-what are you talking about? I train all the time.”

Keith laughed darkly and stalked forward, “Well I haven’t seen it. You’re exactly the same as when I left for the Blade of Marmora all those years ago!” Keith punctuated his last words with a thrust of his sword, catching Lance in the bicep. Lance let out a sharp yell and scrambled backwards, clutching his bicep.

“Keith!” Lance screeched as he fumbled to retrieve his bayard.

Keith laughed again as he tried to slash his sword through Lance’s chest, missing only because Lance stumbled back over a rock. Keith’s pupils narrowed into slits, yellow bled into the whites of his eyes, and Lance caught sight of sharp fangs when Keith bared his teeth. “Oh, Lance. Dear fragile Lance,” Keith growled and stabbed Lance’s thigh, bringing him crashing to the ground with a yell of agony, “What made you think you were cut out to be a paladin? You aren’t smart like Pidge and Hunk, or a leader like Shiro, and can’t win against me in a fight. You can’t do anything right! You’re useless.”

Lance whimpered and brought his bayard up, pointing it at Keith’s chest, “I-i’m the team’s sharpshooter.”

Keith scoffed, “Don’t make me laugh. Anyone can shoot a gun.” Lance crumbled to the ground after Keith kicked him hard in the chest. “We all want you gone, but apparently I’m the only one with the balls to actually kill you.” He kneeled in the dirt beside Lance, caressing the side of his face. It would have been soothing had Keith not used the opportunity to drag his claws down the side of Lance’s face. Lance held back a scream, only shedding a few tears.

“W-why are you doing this? I-I…” Lance choked on a sob. He took a shuddering breath, “Keith why?” Keith slid his hand down to Lance’s bared throat and tapped the tip of a razor sharp claw against the side of his neck.

“I’m doing this because you don’t deserve to live. You cheated death, Lance McClain, and I’m here to collect.” Keith replied, his voice eerily calm. Lance choked and thrashed against Keith as the half-Galran tightened his clawed grip around his throat. Lance briefly wondered why none of his teammates were stopping Keith, why none of them noticed Lance thrashing on the ground. That trail of thought was quickly forgotten. Lance clawed at the hands wrapped around his throat. His vision was starting to darken around the edges until all he could see was Keith’s face. His eyes started to droop and his struggling slowed, I guess this is it. Killed by the hands that used to hold me with such love and care. Lance’s eyes closed and his head lolled to the side, this was it, the end of Alejandro Charles McClain.

Lance shot up with a gasp and clutched at his throat. He looked around wildly expecting to be six feet under somewhere or even left to rot on the planet’s surface. The sight he was met with, however, was not that of pitch black darkness, but of concerned violet eyes, lit by the red glow of the Red Lion’s cockpit. Lance screamed and shot backwards off the in-cabin bed. He scrambled backwards on all fours until he hit a wall.

“Lance!” Keith shot up out of bed and followed after the terrified paladin.

“S-stop! D-don’t to-ouch me.” Lance swiped at the hand that was reaching for him and squished himself into a ball.

“Okay, okay,” Keith said in a soothing manner, hoping to calm the other boy down enough to talk, “tell me what’s wrong, baby. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

“Stop it… just stop it. Stop acting like you actually care about me. I know you’re just waiting for the perfect opportunity to kill me.” Lance growled out.

Keith starred at Lance in shock, “What are you talking about?! Why would I want to kill you!”

“I remember… you-you started attacking me, wrapped your hands around my throat,” Lance held a hand to his throat and swallowed, “You told me I didn’t deserve to live. That I cheated death so I had to die.”

“Lance, baby… no, I’ve never said that. You must have had a nightmare.” Keith inched closer, hoping to pull Lance into his arms and cradle his fears away.

“B-but… it felt so real…” Lance whispered, staring down at his knees in fear.

“It wasn’t, I promise,” Keith said softly and placed a hand lightly on Lance’s knee. When the other boy didn’t jerk away, Keith took that as a sign to pull the smaller boy into his arms. “Why do you think you cheated death? Is that time back on Arus still haunting you?” Keith asked softly as he ran his fingers through soft brown hair.

“N-no… I did cheat death… when we were trying to fix the Omega Shield, I shoved Allura out of the way of an energy blast…” Lance took a deep breath and looked up to meet Keith’s eyes, “I died Keith. Allura brought me back a few minutes later, but I still died! And no one cared!” Lance whimpered and finally let his tears fall.

“Y-you… you died? I had no idea.” Keith whispered in shock, pressing Lance’s head into his neck and cradling him. “No one told me…”

“Th-they didn’t even mention it… they don’t c-care.” Lance garbled out through his tears.

“Of course they care,” Keith cooed softly and nuzzled his nose into Lance’s hair. “And if they don’t… then they don’t deserve your love or attention. Yorak and I can divide all of your attention between the two of us.” Lance snorted at that and relaxed into Keith’s chest.

“You really suck at this whole cheering me up thing. I think Yorak would do a much better job.” Lance sniffled and looked up to the bed where said cosmic wolf was staring down at them.

“Probably, but he doesn’t love you nearly as much as I do.” Keith kissed Lance’s forehead. “Come on, let’s get you back in bed.” Keith lifted Lance up and carried him back over to the small bunk. “We don’t have to go back to sleep, but I want you to be comfortable.”

Lance smiled softly and laid his head against Keith’s chest. Lingering terror from his nightmare was still fluttering around in his chest, but he knew he was safe… Keith would never actually hurt him.

I could never kill my boyyyyy.

If you wanna help me out, maybe you could buy me a coffee?

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Behold. The clip of Stranded in Space gave me Pallura feelings. Now I cough them up in fanfic form

It’s an angsty mess. ah well

-

Allura heard it too late. 

The clipped panic in Pidge voice and the word the Green Paladin didn’t quite have enough time to say.

She barely heard it at all over the roar rattling through her bones, the thunder her own racing pulse, the shockwaves threatening to pry her fingers from their already tenuous grip on the Yellow Lion.

But she did catch it. The warning that made her gut clench and her blood turn to ice in her veins.

“I’m losing my gr-”

In the time it took for Allura to look up there was a yell. And Pidge…

Was gone.

Taking Allura’s breath and ability to think along with her.

-

She had been right there. Right next to her. Right there within easy reach.

Why hadn’t she reached out?

It’s a question for herself-

Her, once again too slow to stop everything from spiraling out of control. Too slow and left to watch her world slip away in an instant, a witness who could have done something if she had only…

Why hadn’t she reached out?

It was also a question for Pidge.

Why didn’t you use me to stop your fall- But oh, Allura already knows the answer to that.

Quick and clever Pidge, fiercely protective Pidge, had done a simple calculation in those split seconds before Allura could even react. She’d weighed risk against certainty and come to the most reasonable conclusion.

One Paladin lost in space was better than two.

So she’d let herself fall past Allura with nothing more than a strangled yell and vanished into the endless starry blackness.

Why hadn’t Pidge reached out…

Because she was Pidge, the Green Paladin, the girl who had gone beyond the bounds of her known world for the sake of the people she loved. And had done it again just a second ago.

Why hadn’t Allura reached out..?

Because she was not Pidge.

And she seemed to doom the people she loved simply by daring to love them.

-

Allura was sure, in the following few breathless moments, that her suit had ruptured somewhere and failed to seal itself.

She must be losing air no matter what the readouts said- Each breath she took was sharp and deep but it just wasn’t enough to fill her lungs and take away the feeling of suffocating.

Pidge, she thought dazedly as she craned her head around, trying to find some glimpse of green.

Pidge is slipping- There was no green.

I cannot let her go- She’d lost her chance.

I have to get her…

… She couldn’t even tell which way Pidge had gone.

-

There had been many occasions when Allura had been grateful for the blessing that was Hunk.

She’d never been more grateful than when he also lost his hold on the Lion and slammed back into the rest of them, knocking the rest of them into the void.

-

This time.

The yells were coming from all of them now but Pidge’s voice still rang the sharpest through Allura’s coms.

“Ha- Haa- Haaa-”

Pidge was panting. Hyperventilating.

“-I’m losing sight of the Lions!”  

And still trying to get a handle on the mess unfolding around them.

Something about that was calming. The other girl’s fear expanded in Allura’s chest, leaving no room for her own, and the realization that she herself wasn’t even trying to spot the Lions as she searched desperately for some flash of green armor, it was all almost enough to make Allura laugh.

“Stay together!” She dimly heard Keith say, his voice muted even as it blasted right into her ears. “Oh no, oh-” Poor Hunk didn’t sound as if he had any idea how follow that advice.

She tuned them both out.

Calm, Allura ordered herself as the universe tried to throw her in ten different directions at once. You are falling together now, not necessarily losing her. Stay calm and you may just be able to find her.

Lance’s voice broke through her focus. “I’ve got Hunk!”

Allura was too relieved to feel frustrated and too scared to linger on the relief.

Pidge might be nearby. Or she might be tumbling further and further away with every tick, she might already be out of reach, no. Focus.

She might be-

-There!

Allura’s body registered the green flash even before her eyes could. She turned, flipped, stretched out her hand as far as she could…

Not far enough what if I miss this is my second chance this might be my last chance-

By some strange stroke of luck her eyes found amber ones.  

The familiar color was washed out by the blue tint of Pidge’s helmet visor, but as Allura watched the shock was pushed aside and a familiar determined light blazed up in its place, brighter than she’d ever seen it before.

For one split tick they stared at each other.

If this is the last time I ever see her-

-

Once upon a time Allura had watched from planet-side as the Castle Ship prepared to lift off from the surface of Arus, Galra at its helm and the Lion’s of Voltron trapped inside.

Once upon a time Allura had held a de-aging infant Coran in her arms and watched through a blur of tears as reality prepared to wipe from existence the man who was as good as a second father to her, the only family she had left.

Once upon a time she had not known Pidge Gunderson, Katie Holt of Earth, or learned to trust her in the worst of times.

She knew her now.

She trusted her.

-

Pidge twisted, just barely changing the pitch of her tumble, and reached out.

Not enough on its own, but-

-

It’s going to be okay.

Those burning eyes seemed to tell her.

You can do this.

Allura breathed out and found that, somehow, despite having done nothing more than relax and with no time to form-shift, she could stretch her arms forward that one final inch.

-

Both of Allura’s hands clamped tight around Pidge’s wrist.

“I’ve got Pidge!”

I’ve got you.

There was a wrenching tug, a searing pain of muscle yanking against bone, a yell, an indescribable pull as all of space tried to drag Pidge from her grip-

Allura held on.

This one time with this one person- She would not let the universe have its way.

She would not let it take Pidge too.

-

The pull faded quickly.

The whole thing must have taken only a few seconds and still Allura felt she’d been fighting against inertia for an eternity. Her arms ached, hands shaking beneath her suit’s gloves.

She gripped Pidge even more firmly, trying to still the shakes. 

Pidge might have felt them anyway. Her hand gave a weak answering squeeze- Told you so. She seemed to say. You did it. It’s gonna be okay.  

The shaking didn’t stop but when Allura took a deep breath she found it didn’t threaten to choke her. 

But it wasn’t time to relax yet. A blur of colors was pinwheeling towards them, the other three Paladins linked together in wildly whirling chain.

In order to grab them Allura would have to let go-

Do not let her go.

Allura drew Pidge close and wrapped her right arm securely around the shorter girl. Not until she could feel the hard lines of Pidge’s armor bruising her sides did she dare free her other hand and snag a flailing limb as it passed by, linking them with the others as Pidge did the same.

Yes, Allura decided as jetpacks were fired and things calmed down. Yes it would be okay now.

The thought was cemented by Pidge pulling them even closer together, her fingers hooking into the edges of Allura’s armor, every movement proof of her being here with Allura and proof of her being safe.

And as long as Allura had that she knew she could figure out everything else. 

Pidge was the Green Paladin, to Allura though she was also something else completely.

She was hope. She was a promise.

The hope for a day when Allura would never have to worry about losing someone she loved again, and a promise that it could be made real.

So Allura would hold on until then. And she would never, ever, let go.   

[bubblegumxveil]

maiden of the mist;;

Betty had heard the stories, the legend of the creation believed by the native people for what had become known as the Horseshoe Falls but she’d only ever seen it in poorly likened photographs in old reference books at the school library or through films her professor showed in her folklore and mythology class on a projector screen. The subject itself held little interest for her fellow classmates, most of whom were only taking the course as an easily passed elective to pad their transcript and up their grade point average. Betty Cooper however, found herself enthralled in the mystical element of it all, the way stories of gods were passed on through generations only to be watered down into the bland black and white of her required reading textbooks. Her professor had taken note of her curiosity, particularly her interest in Niagara Falls and had supplied her with extracurricular reading on the histories and lore. It was a specific story that stuck out to her, the tale of the sacrificial maiden willing to give her life for the honor of appeasing a mighty spirit the lived in the waters below. She found the entire concept of willingly wanting to die for something so wholeheartedly believed in as equally foolish as she did fascinating, but it became the prime motivator in deciding on the destination for the all girl’s trip planned over summer vacation. Her best friend Veronica didn’t understand what particularly was so interesting about some waterfalls, her vote having been the beaches of Southern Florida but she gave in reluctantly claiming this was Betty’s trip after all before the commencement of their junior year of college. Classes were sure to be more rigorous and leaving them all with much less time for socializing and so this was their last chance for the summer to have a little fun and blow off steam before the term began. They’d packed the station wagon full to the brim, suitcases, snacks and necessities with all four girls before making a road trip of it the several hours north and west to where Veronica’s father had secured them a stay in a rather lavish luxury hotel suite. The bellhop had barely unloaded the cart of their bags before Betty had armed herself with her brand new Canon camera gifted by her parents on her last birthday around her neck and begging to go on one of the many tours offered around the area. Donning their matching cat eye sunglasses, Betty snapped a few pictures of the girls along the observation deck overlooking the falls, few as enthused to be there as she was simply taking a moment to lean over the railing and really take in the splendor of it all. The sheer scope and size of it, the mist she could feel against her face even from where she stood and the sound of the water crashing down below. Mistakenly, she could’ve sworn it sometimes resembled a voice, like the waters could really be calling to her. Veronica and the girls had lost their attention long ago, telling Betty they were heading back along the main drag of tourists where they’d seen a vendor cart selling ice cream and offering to bring her one back to stave off the sweltering late summer heat. She waved them on, taking advantage of her chance alone and severe lack of security to venture past the warning signs warding off visitors past a point of danger and climbing her way down the craggy rocks to get closer to the water’s edge. She watched the rolling current as she carefully stepped over slippery moss covered rocks, unpredictable and wild as it churned but the color of the water magnetic and drawing her closer. She hadn’t the appropriate footwear for climbing rocks, dark brown closed-toed Huarache sandals her feet could’ve easily slipped out of but she was mindful more of the camera she carted, not wanting to accidentally fall and break the lens or ruin and expose the film to the beating sun overhead. Once she made it to the edge however, it still seemed as if the water itself was speaking to her somehow, which of course she knew to be impossible. Betty looked over her shoulder, scanning the vacant outcropping half expecting to find Veronica or one of the girls whispering to tease her but it was as if the entire world from above her had completely disappeared. Betty found a sturdy higher perched rock, unlooping the camera from around her neck and setting it down for safekeeping as she returned to the waters, dipping her hand in out of uncontrollable curiosity. It was much colder than she’d expected given the season but the jolt of surprise and mixed sensations brought a knowing smirk to her lips as she turned toward the falls, recalling the story in particular about the sacrificial maidens in their white canoes. “A beauty worth dying for I suppose…” Betty echoed to no one but herself, crossing her arms against a sudden chill on her bare arms that had nothing to do with the weather. Heaving a sigh, she knew she’d already been gone longer than anticipated and that the other girls would be worried and looking for her. She turned to collect her camera, but not before her foot slipped on one of the rocks and caused her to lose her balance. Instead of falling forward onto the jagged bed of rocks, her body instinctually tried to counteract the fall and instead she fell backwards and directly into the water. She hadn’t had the chance to gasp for much air before she was pulled under by the current, the cold sending a shock through her body as she was pulled down and deeper into the water with inexplicable force. It felt almost as if the water itself had wrapped around her ankles in a death grip, dragging her under. She fought to swim, the summers of swimming lessons put to use as she tried to get her bearings, kicking as hard as she could against the pull in search of the surface of the water. Somehow, she’d been thrashed and tossed around and the more she kept swimming it seemed the further into water she went and she no longer knew which direction was up or down. Panic began setting in, the lack of oxygen to her muscles slowing her movements and the pain radiating from her lungs in her chest desperate for air. Betty knew she only had less than minutes to find her way above water or else she’d lose consciousness and drown. Through the pain she kicked harder, instead of arms flailing, out in front of her to maneuver through the water as she tried to keep her wits about her and turn in different directions until finally she broke through the surface. Gasping for air, the sudden burst of breath as painful as the depletion of air but she made her way for the edge of the shoreline coughing and sputtering not knowing how far the currents had carried her. She was exhausted as she hauled herself onto the rocks, hair and clothes soaked through as she leaned against a tall rock for support still heaving for breath. Betty looked behind her, expecting her camera to be where she’d left it but finding the top of the rock empty. So her luck seemed to be getting worse, assuming somehow in the force of her fall the camera too had been knocked from its’ ledge and now lie somewhere deep below in the depths of the water. “My mom and dad are going to kill me…” She groaned, feeling her throat burning from the effort of being underwater. Once she was sure she could stand, Betty carried herself and her wounded pride back up the way she’d climbed in search of her friends and a dry towel they’d all kept in the back of the car for their trip. Once to the top of the rocks however, Betty found no thoroughfare of tourists or the nearby parking lot full of station wagons and Buicks. In fact, Betty found nothing at all but more rocks and trees for as far as she could see. She was half convinced she was losing her mind, turning around in a circle to scan her surroundings in search of anything familiar but finding no observation deck, no ice cream vendors and no one else around.  “No wonder my camera was gone. I must be in a totally different part from where I fell in…” Betty was beginning to feel on edge, but resolved there must be some sort of park ranger’s office or something nearby. She’d only been underwater for so long and despite how strong the current had been, she couldn’t have been more than a mile from the tourist center where her friends surely were reporting her missing.     Squashing the last bit of water from her sandals, Betty trekked onward and forward into the foliage knowing it would be nightfall soon and wearing only capris and sleeveless blouse she was bound to get cold soaked through to the bone the way she was. It was slow and arduous going, climbing over more rocks and roots of trees and it was clear it wasn’t well traveled terrain. She wondered if she should double back to the water and start over in a different direction until she heard a rustling in the leaves that froze her in her tracks. Betty knew little of the area, unsure of what wild animals lived in these particular parts but wanted no more quarrel with Mother Nature than she’d already had today. It was no mountain lion or bear that appeared however, but a scantily clad little boy. His hair was coal black and his complexion darker than hers though not quite black like the friends she’d met in the rallies at Washington D.C. He wore no shirt and as she looked him over, nothing below his waist save for the shoes on his feet. She made a squeak of embarrassment instantly apologizing to the boy and politely averting her eyes but wondered what sort of parents let their child parade around naked even to play in the waters of the falls which seemed incredibly dangerous to her. “Can I help you? Have you lost your parents too? I can’t seem to find my way back to the visitor’s center.” Betty smiled to the boy, hoping to frighten them both a little less but the boy looked her up and down, brows knitting together in confusion when she spoke and when he tried to speak to her it was in a completely foreign language Betty didn’t recognize. Her heart sank a bit more as she shook her head, feeling a slight shiver set in from the damp. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what you’re saying…” The boy took a step toward her, grabbing for her wrist and pulling her along forward but she instantly fought against him and jerked her hand back away from him. “No! You’re going the wrong way!” The boy looked back at her as if she’d physically struck him, and before she could apologize or show she meant no harm he immediately began raising his voice, running off in the direction which he’d come and gaining volume in that same language she didn’t understand. “No! Wait! Come back, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you!” Betty pushed through the leaves he’d disappeared through but finding no sign of the boy except the far off sound of his voice already impossibly far ahead of her.

[vcepsis]

Would you do K+3 for your babies Sheith pleeeease? With cherry on top? ❤

thank so very much ilu

From this drabble ask  (and hey if anyone else wants one feel free to send me an ask)

So the meme is for a drabble but I uhhhhhhhh wrote 2k so have some Shiro suffering under the cut (this is my first time writing for vld so I hope it turned out ok)

--

When this was over, Keith was going to see to it personally that this planet was bombarded from space.

He wrapped his good arm around his knees, gritting his teeth as Shiro coughed next to him, the sound wet and horrible.

They were coming up on day two of being stranded on this planet, and Keith didn’t like it any more than when they had first arrived. It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic mission: make contact with the locals, shake some hands, gush about Voltron and the fight against the Galra, go home.

Keith remembered looking forward to it: a mission with just him and Shiro. And Pidge, but, well, she would probably lose herself in the planet’s tech almost immediately, so she didn’t count. Keith also remembered the deliberation to cancel the mission when Shiro had picked up a virus the week before, with symptoms similar to a bad cold. But in the end, Shiro had managed to recover enough that it was decided to push forward with the original plan.

Shiro had brushed off Keith’s concerns, insisting he was fine. And he had looked fine as well; in fact, the only indication that he’d been sick was a lingering cough, and even that wasn’t too bad.

The species that lived here was skittish, and not under Galra control. While their technology was impressive, they were used to keeping a low profile so as not to attract Galra attention. It was decided (by Allura and Shiro, mostly) to only bring the Green Lion, to not scare off these potential new allies.

Unfortunately, their secret keeping abilities weren’t quite as advertised. Because no sooner were Keith and Shiro meeting with a group of their leaders, the Galra attacked.

Of course, the locals blamed the Paladins for the Galra’s sudden appearance, and left them to fend for themselves. Luckily, Keith and Shiro had been together, and while Pidge had been alone, she had managed to get to her Lion.

”There’s too many of them!“ she had cried over the comms. ”I can’t get to you!“

“It’s fine!” Shiro had called back as he and Keith sprinted through the jungle terrain, a small army on their tail. “Just go!”

“I’ll contact the Castle, we’ll be back as soon as we can!” With that, the line went dead, and Keith and Shiro were on their own.

In the process of escaping, they had gotten pretty banged up: Keith would have a collection of impressive bruises come morning, and he was pretty sure his left arm was broken from a three-on-one fight. It paled, however, in comparison to Shiro. He’d taken two direct shots to the chest from a hidden Galra soldier, and while the armor stopped the shots from tearing through him, it didn’t stop a few of his ribs from breaking.

It had taken time, luck, and more than a few close calls, but they finally managed to find a small, shallow cave, naturally protruding from a large moss covered rock. It seemed the Galra had turned most of their attention to the fight in the sky and in the city. So they had settled in, expecting rescue to come fairly quickly.

It didn’t.

The only thing Keith could think of was that the planet was under heavy fire, and the others couldn’t getto them. Attempting to raise them on the comms did nothing as well.

Shiro continued to cough, and Keith looked over at him, trying to keep the panic at bay. After a few minutes, the fit finally subsided, and Shiro rested his head on the rock wall behind him. His breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps, and sweat plastered the white of his bangs to his face. The whole planet was just so warm and humid and gross. Keith felt the sweat beading in his own hair and under his armor.

Shiro looked over at him, turning his head without lifting it. Despite the heat, his face was pale, making the red of his scar more prominent. “How’s the arm?”

Keith shrugged his good shoulder. When they first found their makeshift camp, Shiro had managed to set and wrap Keith’s arm pretty well, despite the shaking in his hands and his own injuries. The pain had been excruciating at the time, but had eventually faded to a dull throb that Keith was able to tolerate. “As good as it’ll be. How about you?”

It was a dumb question, but Shiro gave him a soft smile. “S'ok. Not bad.”

They hadn’t been able to do much for Shiro: the armor covering his chest and stomach had been removed, leaving him in his black under suit. Keith had hoped it would make it easier for Shiro to breathe, but it wasn’t going well. That cough was making Keith nervous, especially with the wet edge it had recently taken on. The humid environment, broken ribs, and last remnants of that virus were creating the perfect storm in Shiro’s lungs. Truth be told, it was scaring Keith.

“Maybe you should lie down?” Keith asked hesitantly, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. God, he was just so bad at this. There were lines of pain etched into Shiro’s tired face, and Keith wanted nothing more than to make them go away.

Shiro shook his head slowly, closing his eyes when the small movement made him dizzy. “Can't–can’t breathe, like that.”

They had a bit of distance between them; Keith told himself it was to not crowd Shiro, but in reality, he was just scared. Scared that if he touched him, he would do something wrong and end up hurting Shiro even more.

“You’re quiet,” Shiro said softly, breaking Keith out of his spiraling thoughts. “You sure you’re ok?”

Keith had to laugh at that; it was either that or burst into hysterical tears. “Me? What about you?”

Shiro chuckled softly, which set off another round of rough sounding coughing he tried to smother into his fist. When he was done he was blinking tears out of his eyes. “It’s fine. Only—hurts when I breathe.”

Keith shot him a look. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Shiro responded, voice practically gone. His breath was rattling in his lungs. Pneumonia flitted through Keith’s mind, but he had to quash it down; he already felt like he was barely holding it together, seeing Shiro hurting so badly and not being able to do anything about it. He didn’t need anything else adding to his stress levels.

Shiro shifted slightly, hissing in pain when it jostled his battered ribs. “What are you doing?” Keith asked, the sound sharper than he intended. “Sit still, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Shiro blinked at him, and Keith noticed with alarm that he seemed less aware than just a moment ago. “S'cold. Wanted to…get closer.”

Cold? Keith frowned, confused. It was the exact opposite of cold here; Keith felt the humidity under his skin, felt the warm air sticking his bangs to his face.

Then it dawned on him. He scooted closer, finally crossing the distance between them. Pulling off a glove with his teeth, he pressed his hand to Shiro’s forehead, gently lifting the bangs away. Yes, it was warm out here, but even Keith could tell the heat radiating off Shiro wasn’t normal.

“Shit.” Keith couldn’t stop the curse from rolling off his tongue. Panic bloomed in his chest anew, washing over him like a wave, ripping through him like a thunderstorm.

Shiro blinked slowly at him, not understanding. “Keith?” The sound was so soft, so worried, and Keith felt sick.

“It's—it’s fine, Shiro. Do you want to try to sleep?”

“What about you?” Shiro asked, voice still raspy. “You haven’t slept since we got here.”

There was no way Keith could even consider sleep, not now. Not with Shiro hurt so badly. “Neither have you. You’ll feel better if you sleep.”

The lie was obvious, but Shiro hummed in response, eyes already slipping closed. He scooted down the wall a bit so his head was level with Keith’s good shoulder, resting on it. Keith sat up as straight as he could so Shiro could still sit in a somewhat upright position. Keith found himself wishing he had taken off his own armor; sleeping on it couldn’t be comfortable. But he wanted to be ready in case the Galra came back. Besides, taking off his armor felt a little like defeat—as if the action would be admitting they wouldn’t be rescued for a while yet.

Despite not sleeping since they landed, Keith felt wide awake. Shiro’s head was heavy on his shoulder, his good arm caught underneath. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw that their hands were just inches apart, resting on the ground between them. Slowly, carefully, Keith moved his hand so it was over Shiro’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. Shiro sighed a bit in his sleep.

Looking over, Keith took in Shiro’s pale complexion, save for the faint flush beginning to bloom across his cheeks, and listened to the labored sounds of his breathing. At least he was breathing. Keith tried to focus on that rather than the fear coursing through him.

They stayed like that for a while, Keith eventually leaning his head gently on top of Shiro’s. Suddenly, his helmet crackled from where it sat a few feet away, making Keith jump a bit. “—ith? You there?”

Keith blinked, taking a second to process it, then lunged for the helmet. The movement startled Shiro awake, who managed to catch himself before falling on his face. Keith made a grab for the helmet with the arm Shiro wasn’t resting on, which, unfortunately, was his broken arm, and he cursed loudly as the pain shot through it anew. Jamming the helmet on his head, he heard the static sounds of jumbled voices on the other end. “I’m here. We need a pick up, stat.”

“Keith!” It was Lance. Never in his entire life did Keith think he’d be so happy to hear his stupid voice. “Where are you? We tried to contact Shiro, is he withyou?”

“Yeah, he’s here.” Shiro had managed to shift so he was leaning back against the rock, eyes closed tightly in pain.

“Thank God,” Lance said, relief evident in his voice. “We couldn’t reach him, it was freaking us out. Are you guys ok?”

Keith looked over at Shiro. His head was resting against the rock wall, arm draped loosely around his stomach, panting hard. “Shiro’s hurt. You need to get here, now.”

Lance cursed. “Where are you? There’s a break in the fighting, I’m pretty sure I can come get you in Blue.”

“I’ll send you our coordinates,” Keith replied, already bringing up the armor’s floating touch screen. Shiro was looking at Keith now, brows up in question. “Lance is on his way.”

Shiro smiled, and though it was tired and hazy, it was like the sun coming out. “That’s good. But tell him to be caref—” The rest of his sentence was abruptly cut off by a coughing fit that sounded worse than all the others combined, practically doubling him over with the force of it. Keith’s relief at contacting the team quickly turned back to that familiar, heavy feeling of dread he’d had for the past two days. He scrambled over to Shiro, rubbing his back as he worked through the fit. When he was done, his lips were flecked with red.

Keith’s eyes widened at the sight. He grabbed Shiro’s hand roughly, turning it palm up to see the fabric of his glove nearly soaked in blood, which Keith could see even against the dark fabric. Shiro was practically gasping for breath, too exhausted to protest Keith’s manhandling.

“Lance,” Keith said into the helmet, voice just this side of hysterical. “Hurry.”

“On my way.” Lance’s voice was serious, for a change.

Shiro was slumped against Keith, breathing hard and fast. Keith put his arms around him, ignoring the scream of protest from his broken arm. “Lance is on his way, alright?You’re gonna be fine, ok?”

Shiro looked up at him, though his glazed eyes didn’t seem to really be seeing Keith. “Yeah,” Shiro agreed softly. “Everything’s….gonna be ok. You’ll be…” Before he could finish the thought, his eyes fluttered shut and he went boneless in Keith’s arms, unconscious.

Keith wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. “Lance!”

“I know, I know, I’m coming!” The sounds of battle came through the comms, along with low grunts as Lance fought through it.

Keith tightened his hold on Shiro, the pain in his arm secondary to the fear that had taken root in his chest. “It’s ok. You’re ok.” Keith wasn’t sure if he was talking to Shiro or himself at this point. He rested his head on top of Shiro’s, frustrated that the helmet was in the way. But he could hear the sound of Shiro’s breathing, shallow as it was, and focused on that. “I’ve got you.”

And five days later, when Shiro stumbled out of the pod, Keith was the one to catch him.