#now he's untouchable and insufferable (affectionate)

[lady-arcane]

~A Hollow God and His Quiet Devotion~

Human mind is the scariest thing of all.

He’s known this for a while.

There’s something about the way a person can laugh while breaking, smile while suffering, pretend while decaying. It’s horrifying, really. The mind’s ability to rationalize its own undoing. To keep existing even when everything inside it is burning down.

Gojo Satoru is no exception

He is the strongest. The untouchable. A divine existence trapped in human skin. A god, they say, though he would laugh at the irony of that title. Because what kind of god is constantly running from his own mind?

He wears a mask, not a literal one—though the blindfold, the sunglasses, the casual grins serve their purpose—but a mask made of distraction. A personality so large it drowns out anything real. Gojo is insufferable, overwhelming, a force of nature that never stops moving because if he does, he might have to listen to himself.

And yet, here, now—alone, in the quiet of his apartment, with you—he is something else entirely

Not a god. Not a teacher. Not a man with the weight of the world on his back.

Just Satoru

-----

The first time you noticed the difference, you almost didn't believe it.

Gojo is affectionate in a way that makes people uncomfortable. He leans too close, speaks too loudly, touches too freely. His love is an inconvenience, a joke, a spectacle.

But in private, it's different.

He doesn’t tell you he loves you. He doesn’t have to

You see it in the way he waits for you to enter a room before he does—an instinctual need to ensure your safety before his own. The way he lets his head drop against your shoulder like he’s finally found something solid enough to rest on. The way his fingers hesitate at your wrist before sliding down to lace between yours, like he still can’t believe he’s allowed this

Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, loves you in secret.

Not because he’s ashamed. Not because he doesn’t want the world to know.

But because love—true, real, terrifying love—is something he doesn’t know how to perform.

-----

"You’re quiet today," you say, lying beside him.

The lights are dim, the city hum outside muted by distance. His apartment is too big for one person, but not quite big enough to contain everything he refuses to say.

"Mm," he hums in response, gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"You’re never quiet."

A beat.

Then, a breath of a laugh. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It’s not bad," you say, shifting closer, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Just… different."

He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers play with the hem of your sleeve, like a nervous habit, like he needs something to anchor him.

"Satoru," you press, softer this time.

He finally looks at you. No blindfold, no glasses. Just bare, unguarded eyes—the kind of blue that makes the ocean look dull in comparison.

"I don’t have to be loud with you," he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

And you understand.

Gojo Satoru exists too loudly, too overwhelmingly, because that’s what the world expects from him. But with you, he doesn’t have to be anything. He can just exist.

No expectations. No performances.

Just silence, and the steady rhythm of your breathing beside him.

-----

Gojo does not know how to need people.

He has spent years pretending otherwise—being the center of attention, the life of the party, the one everyone looks at but no one truly sees.

And yet, in the moments that matter, he is always alone.

He was alone when Geto left.

Alone when he cradled Yuuji’s lifeless body.

Alone when he stood at the top of the world and realized there was no one there with him.

So when he lets himself rest against you, when he presses his forehead to your shoulder and lets out a sigh so deep it shakes something inside of him—he isn’t sure what he’s doing.

Is this what it means to trust someone? To be seen?

He thinks it might be.

And that scares him more than anything else. Because if he lets himself have this—have you—what happens when he loses it?

What happens when he loves you so much it becomes a weakness?

What happens when the world, cruel as it is, takes you away

(He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t want to know.)

So instead, he holds you a little tighter.

As if, for once, he can keep something.

As if, for once, he won’t be left behind.

-----

"You’re thinking too hard," you murmur, running your fingers through his hair.

He huffs, burying his face against your neck. "Maybe I just like your neck."

"Sure, Satoru."

A beat.

A laugh. And then, quieter—"You’re not going anywhere, right?"

The question catches you off guard.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see his face. There’s a lazy smirk there, but his eyes—God, his eyes—betray him.

"I’m not going anywhere," you say, with the kind of certainty he has never allowed himself to believe in.

He watches you for a moment longer, like he’s memorizing your face, like he’s searching for something—some proof that you’re real, that you mean it.

Then, with a sigh that sounds almost like relief, he lets his weight press fully against you.

Gojo Satoru does not pray.

But in that moment, he closes his eyes, exhales, and hopes—hopes that, just this once, the world will be kind.

That, just this once, he won’t have to be strong.

That, just this once, he won’t have to be alone.

And with your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, he almost believes it.

Almost.

-----

Human mind is the scariest thing of all.

Because it can trick you into thinking you’re untouchable.

Because it can make you believe that love is a weakness.

Because it can convince you that no matter how tightly you hold on, you will always end up alone.

But as Gojo Satoru drifts to sleep, his hand tangled with yours, he wonders—just for a moment—if, maybe, he was wrong.

[yuquinzel]

“hey,”

sae's ears perk up at the call of your voice. it sounds hesitant, almost a little desperate and most definitely defeated, he smirks internally. “you said something?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes as you simply refuse to spare him a glance.

“hmm? what was that?” he questions again, having heard you perfectly fine the first time. it's cute, he thinks. the way you glare at him for making you repeat your words.

“i said, open this for me.” you sigh, holding out a jar, eyes set on the lid with a sweet pout gracing your lips.

“oh,” he takes it, but doesn't really put any effort in trying to unlid it any time sooner. you wait, patience running thin after a mere seconds as you repeat, “sae, come on, i need it right now.”

this time he doesn't hide his smirk, he wants you to see the victorious glint in his eyes as he looks up at you again, batting his lashes in boyish way, something that you've called ‘charming’ before— almost tempting you to say he looks pretty right now because even when you're mad at him, he's still the most prettiest man you've ever seen.

you wouldn't dare though— not inflate his already big any more than it is.

“say please.”

“what? ”

“say please,” he repeats, an annoyingly amused chuckle leaving his lips.

itoshi sae is grinning at you in all his untouched glory on a random saturday morning because you asked him to open a jar for you especially after he had been eyeing you struggling to open it for the past fifteen minutes. you're sure the reason he's wearing that self-assured smirk is because the moments leading up to the aftermath of your argument with him, you have been avoiding him all morning.

you haven't been talking to him, leaving all his texts on seen, even going as far as leaving the room whenever he steps in— that one definitely wound him a little.

“i'm helping you out, saying please is common courtesy.”

“sae, I'm not in the mood to joke around.” you say with finality, finally meeting his eyes.

“who says I'm joking?”

“are you really okay with eating bland pasta tonight?” you scowl.

“are you really okay with continuing this attitude? you've been ignoring me all day, and you say I'm petty.” sae places the jar on the table, no longer of any significance to the conversation.

“oh, that's because you are. you're the reason I'm ignoring you.” you cross your arms.

“i said i was sorry, quit being mad. i didn't mean it.” he sighs, taking one step closer to you—he's testing the waters of your patience.

“sounded like you meant it alright.” your voice is a low whisper, and sae wants nothing more than to go back in time and knock some sense in his past self.

“people say things they don't mean when they're mad. i didn't either. what i did mean was that I'm sorry. really.” it's laced with enough regret to sound convincing, coaxing you to take a step closer to him — albeit, begrudgingly. your anger beginning to dissipate at the tenderness of his caress when sae brings his hand to brush his fingers over your cheekbones.

when he takes another careful step towards you and you don't step back, sae immediately envelopes you in his arms, rubbing circles on the small of your back as he hears you whisper, “you're mean,”

he laughs, “i know.”

“an asshole, a jerk, a stuck-up bastard—”

“yeah, okay, i get the picture.”

“dont just walk out on me like that, i don't ever wanna go to bed angry again.” you say at last, arms coming to drape around his shoulders. a sense of relief washes over him.

“right, i promise. i love you.”

sae basks in the silence that follows, he thinks it's okay you didn't say you love him too immediately. he's still trying to figure out if he deserves it or not. but when he hears you mutter a quick ‘i love you too ’, feeling all the love you hold for him carefully wrapped up in the syllables, tasting sweet on your lips when they meet his— he's glad he tightened the lid on the jar this morning.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

he's insufferable ( affectionate )

[sloppy-butcher]

Please can you do P, R, L, B, D with Caleb? Forgive that there's so many. Thank you!

thank you for the request bby and so sorry it took so long to get out <3 yeehaw cowboy man :)

;;edit, pls no more fluffy alphabet request thank you :) 

Fluffy Alphabet for The Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn)

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Your hands. The ultimate identification markers of what makes a man, a man. Or well, human. The tools with which greatness can be created and love can be expressed. Caleb absolutely loves your hands and often asks to see them. He likes to have your hands in his in which he can appreciate the size difference between you two (his hands are long and gangly and are littered with a multitude of scars and blemishes). You watch as a smile dusts the corners of his mouth, his eyes downcast and solemn. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and he kisses you gently, the grey hairs of his mustache tickling your skin.

 Hands are what defines a person. It is what made him smart and respected, he used his hands to create his redeemer and brought about justice to the less fortunate. His hands are rough and leathery, the products of suffering and hardship, but yours - oh, how sweet they were. He loves to hold them, loves to look at them, loves to have them slowly caress his body with passion and generosity. 

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He imagines a small, lonely cabin lost high in the mountains of some faraway country place. The mountains on the horizon stand blue against an endless sky, horses and cows roam the grassy fields around and for miles, the land stretches into the untouched vastness. There is no one near, not a neighbor in sight - just you and him in this sort of ethereal, western dream. 

Winter mornings are spent cuddled by a fire, drinking warm coffee with blankets wrapped around your intertwining bodies. And summers see the two of you riding to the local creek where you swim and frolic like love-sick yearlings. All Caleb has ever wanted was to be alone, to be content in his own identity, and to be free to live life as he wants to. Now with you by his side at this lonesome cabin on the doorstep of the great unknown, he feels that content and is comfortable to simply live and let wilderness flow through him and over his land.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Caleb is a great nihilist; stubborn and bitter to the point of being completely dis-likable. He knows he’s old, he knows he is trapped in a repeating loop where nothing will die and he will never be free and he knows that truly, nothing means anything in this world. He sits alone and drinks, trying to drown the part of him that yearns for meaning, for purpose, for justification of existence. 

What Caleb also knows is that he has a liking for you. He knows that your presence doesn't drive him up the wall and that your soft conversations are the highlights of his day. he knows what he wants and he knows there's no point to pussy-foot around the subject. Caleb asks you straight out if you would be interested in becoming closer to him. He explains that he enjoys your private time together and that he would greatly appreciate it if you reciprocated his feelings. Of course, he doesn’t say it in so many words but you get the picture.

You’re surprised by his forward bluntness and Caleb realizes how sharp he sounds. He softens and moves closer to you, taking off his hat and setting it aside on a table nearby. He lowers his face and kisses the top of your head then he pulls you into him, his arms wrapped around your shoulders trying to drag you deeper into his embrace. It was selfish to hold you before you had even given him your answer but he could not help himself. You could feel the tall man shake slightly as he hugs you, the act being such a spontaneous event that it takes you a few seconds to realize its entirety. Eventually, you manage to slip into his arms and give over to his need for affection. ‘Of course’, you say without words, ‘I love you too.’

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He would be very upfront about everything. He talks to any and everyone about you, endlessly bragging about what a lucky man he is to have roped such a pretty little thing such as you for himself. Often this gets him in the bad books of the other killers who couldn’t care less about whatever the crazy old cowboy was doing in his free time, but did their threats or disgruntled glares stop him? God no.

He is also very hands-on, slapping your ass at every chance he got and scolding anyone who dared so much as look at you. Someone walks past and offers you a kind wave, you hear Caleb tense his gun and growl. You elbow him in the ribs but he does not falter in his misdirected aggressive protectiveness, blazing daggers after the person then spitting hatefully onto the ground. Only he was allowed to give you goo-goo eyes and he’ll be damned if he lets anyone else so much as try.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s incredibly, unironically, and insufferably cheesy. Caleb was a hopeless romantic before the term was even created - if you looked it up on the dictionary you would find his name in the description. There was just something so wonderful to him about being in love and in being loved, whenever you would stand closer to him or when you would look at him with those mild, affectionate eyes that never dulled or aged, that made him soft and malleable on the inside. It was easy to give in to your fluff and forget, if only for a moment, that he was scarred by life and made to be a monster. 

Caleb likes to get you gifts (preferably something he had handmade) and he loves to give you compliments especially when they borderline being suggestive. 

[plush-rabbit]

Enemies to Lovers

A/N: I hope you like it!! 

Monoma Neito:

A villain and hero romance. The tension, the witty comebacks and the drama of it is the exciting part. It’s an exciting development as the enemy part of it starts to move into an odd friendship and to an eventual relationship.

Neito will never admit he has feelings for you. He’ll deny it and laugh as you tease him during a fight. You both have different views of the world but as you two begin to spend more time with each other- he’ll always state that he runs into you on accident- you two start to realize you have things in common that go past your “job”.

There are moments in the budding relationship where you two will sit next to each other- villain/hero costume on and just sit next to each other listening to the sounds of the street below. You sit and the silence is still, untouched and gentle, even as your hands meet and hold onto each other, never parting until your eyes begin to grow heavy and you have to take your leave.

You keep the friendship silent, never once talking about the nights before, keeping your beating heart quiet and the warm glow that fills your face quiet and unspoken. You bring snacks and he brings drinks, you throw your legs over his and pull him into a kiss, he invites you home and you spend the night watching an old movie, waking up with a stiff neck and his arms wrapped around you, his face buried into your side.

A relationship with Neito is like a river- it flows, steady and in constant motion, often disturbed by reality setting in and making itself known. You dance around each other, give him a quick peck and promise to meet him later and you rush off before you can be spotted. You protect each other- he tells you when he’s patrolling and who else is and you give him hints about the underground that will aid in his career.

It starts off with small, teasing remarks that leave him sputtering for a second to laughing loudly and calling you nothing more than a villain. However, it doesn’t hold the same malice that it once did. Disgust doesn’t linger and taint the words, it’s something softer, something almost sweet, like an affectionate nickname. Your given villain name is used on the occasion where you’re hurt- whispered harshly through gritted teeth with scared cerulean eyes staring into yours.

The teasing turns into banter, the banter to moments where you hold your hand up to rest against the side of the building catching your breath and he waits patiently, breaths tighter and forced as he tries to not show his own exhaustion. He waits for you to get back up, walks calmly towards you and offers you a hand, holding onto yours for a second too long, only to scoff and pull away at your smile, stating that he’s still a hero. He avoids looking you in the eyes and groans the minute you’re gone, holding the hand that touched yours with his other, gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white.

You talk and you learn about him. He’s insufferable and loud, he has a wicked laugh and a nice smile when he wants to show it. He’s nice to you, respecting your boundaries and walking calmly towards you as to not alarm you when you’re resting. He catches you before you can fall, holds you by the waist and sports a coy grin. He brings you his favorite drink and eagerly waits for your response.

The first kiss is initiated by you and he calls it a dirty trick, hiding his mouth behind his hand, a bright tint dusting at his face, and his version of a payback to press his own lips against yours and let his forehead press against yours until he remembers he’s still in public.

Shigaraki Tomura:

An enemies to lovers relationship with him isn’t good. It’s filled with heartache and there are moments where it’s fun, where when you look at him, you can forget who he is for a moment and just be a person. He doesn’t have to be a villain and you don’t have to be a hero.

Tomura will reach for you with an open palm before admitting his feelings towards you. He doesn’t want to crush on some rising hero who crinkles their nose at his ideals and talks too much, the hero who startled when he tripped and immediately ran to help him.

In the beginning he tries to find reasons to hate you- he needs to find something annoying about you to stop you from invading his thoughts but as he tries, you’re all that lingers in his mind and he ends up crushing harder than before, grumbling and burying his nails into his neck.

A friendship starts when you find him curled up in an alleyway, clutching at his leg that bleeds and a thought passes that this is all over- everything that his master had planned for him is going down the drain because of a stupid knife. You’re quick to spot the pile of ash and bloody knife beside him. He’s ready for you to arrest him- the thought of dusting you doesn’t cross his mind but when you wrap a bandage around his calf, and apologize as he winces, he’s shocked. He watches you with careful eyes and when you help him rise, he keeps a finger in the air and he clutches your side.

A relationship with Tomura isn’t easy. You can’t change his mind and he can’t change yours. He keeps a careful eye on you and makes sure that whatever he does happens when you’re not working. He doesn’t want people to know for both of your sake. As he rises with power, he makes sure that villains know you’re off limits- that he has a personal grudge against you.

He meets you at your place- sneaks quietly through the door, acts as if he belongs there and when he steps inside, he does. The need for bloody knuckles and outstretched hands have been replaced with soft kisses and heads buried into the soft curve of the neck. The harsh glares turned to roll of the eyes with tired smiles, to smiling through kisses and sharing and embracing each other’s warmth.

His hood is pulled down and silvery hair spills out, soft and fluffy, spilling down his shoulders, and he walks over to the couch where you lay on your side, the television on and flashing colors against your sleeping face. He crouches down and a scarred hand reaches over and brushes against your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears and he shakes you awake.

You smile at him, your eyes no longer wide and scared like they were the first few times; now you lean into him and hold his hand with yours, pressing your lips against his palm in a gentle kiss that flutters and sends sparks across his body. You welcome him home and lead him to the bedroom, gripping tightly onto his hand and he collapses next to you, kicking off his shoes and shushing you when you complain about dirt being tracked in the house. He clicks his tongue and makes a passing comment too low to hear and you too tired to care about what it was. You stick your tongue out in response and turn to face him.

He pulls the blanket over the both of you, opens his arms and digs into the bed when you lay your head against his chest, running your hand over his abdomen in slow circles. He keeps his eyes open long after your movements have stopped. He traces the outline of your face, slides his fingers over your neck and rests them above your heartbeat. He pulls you close and promises protection to you, closes his eyes and presses his lip lightly at the crown of your head and falls into a slumber.

[vinculafidelis]

ELDRIT is a 363 year old DEMISEXUAL, FEMALE, SHE/HER, here in Firebrand City. People say they look a lot like GAL GADOT. They are TENDER but can be TROUBLED. They are a DRAGON TRAITOR in Firebrand and they work as a DEMON COUNCIL ASSISTANT

I.

Sand dragons are small with serpent-like bodies; incredibly elusive they live their lives in the unforgiving desert in packs of 3 or 4. Excellent diggers they can go deep into the hard ground and find water, making oases of life sprout in even the harshest conditions. Eldrit grew up in a clan made up of her older brother and his mate, her older sister and herself since parents usually took off to start more families once hatchlings were self sufficient.

II.

It was a happy life but it wasn’t easy. Even for dragons, resources were difficult to come by, seasons were merciless and time moved slowly. They were defenders of the flora and fauna of their land and mostly they didn’t want their kind to go extinct. Eldrit and her thunder hid in razor sharp mountain ranges, caves and wherever they could, sometimes for years, months, or days. Their existence was nomadic and home was not a place but a feeling. Eldrit adored her siblings and constantly showed it, she was an affectionate and amicable reptile: she learned very fast, was easily pleased: they said that whoever ended as her mate was going to be lucky. Eldrit had no problem to wait for the one.

III.

The desert lands had always been territories full of magic and sand dragons were highly coveted specimens for those privileged enough to know about them. An energized enough sand dragon had the power to turn anything into diamond with their breath. Eldrit grew up distrustful of everyone and anything that wasn’t a member of her family, a paranoia that had been engraved in her genes for centuries and centuries.

IV.

It was Eldrit’s obsession with honey that set off the beginning of an endless nightmare. Her sister had been long gone to form a family of her own and the rest of the clan had been on the move to locate more sand dragons to maybe find a mate for the youngest. Eldrit wandered off to sample a honeybee hive. Careless, carefree, captured.

V.

She didn’t see them or smell them until it was too late. Their scent wasn’t that of regular humans. Some of them had fire like her. Some of them had water and air. Some of them turned into animals. They said words and made things happen. They put heavy chains and shackles around her legs, pinned down her wings, she couldn’t open her jaws to call for help, to defend herself as they took her far away from any kind of home she had ever known.

VI.

Eldrit was thrown into an ornate golden cage in a fancy marble palace where dozens of faces got to gawk at her every day. She got enough sustenance to exist but not enough to be able to break free from the chains. She had seen mountain lions and camels in local towns suffer similar fates as hers but never a dragon. Never a seemingly untouchable, magical being like her. She did not understand. Why couldn’t she free herself? Apparently the beings around her had magic too.

VII.

The sand dragon spent years and years captive as a glorified zoo animal for greedy Supers to parade and brag about. Every so often she was forced to showcase her powers and turn things into diamond. But inside, Eldrit was losing the battle, weakening, not made for life in captivity.

VIII.

That was when they noticed and started tampering with her heart. Showing her kindness in the form of presents; sweets, fruits, little trinkets, honey. A bigger enclosure. More sunlight. Lighter chains. Sand. A family of mice to break the isolation. Little by little, Eldrit was being tamed, her instincts fading to adapt to a new way to stay alive. However shameful it was, she wasn’t even aware.

IX.

Her first collar was so pretty, covered in diamonds that complimented the peach and gold hues of her scales. She barely felt when they locked it in, dazed by the wine that had been poured in her water. She still had a chain that tethered her to the marble floors of the palace at all times, but it was just the one. Just the one.

X.

She was the palace’s good girl, in their remote oasis with impenetrable walls. Eldrit had no place in politics, she was just a fancy pet, but she heard they stood somewhere between humans and some up and coming Council. And when the time came, it would be expected of her to protect those that had been so kind to her. And she did. Time and time again the sand dragon would be unleashed on the palace’s enemies. Like a good girl, Eldrit did as she was told.

XI.

And because of that, she got her biggest reward: an egg. The actual mating was nothing short of terrifying for Eldrit with a feral dragon that was brought to her enclosure one day and she never saw again once the deed was done. But her egg was beautiful; sparkling like the diamonds she could make with her breath. She was sure it was going to be a boy like her beloved older brother and she started referring to him as her ‘little prince’.

XII.

But her little prince wouldn’t hatch and Eldrit could feel the impatience growing around her. They wanted him to hatch just as much as she did. Like a protective mother, she would get aggressive whenever anyone would get close to her egg. And aggression and Eldrit were two things unknown to each other. So they took him away. For his protection, they said. He was too valuable. And Eldrit had to agree, even if she didn’t. She was his mother. But they started planting a new fear in her heart, that everybody wanted her egg. And the paranoia started chipping away at the sand dragon’s sanity.

XIII.

The once affable creature became highly weaponizable. Eldrit was blinded by terror, by their fear-mongering. They had to add more chains, because every noise meant somebody coming to steal her little prince, not even the people within the palace were safe. In reality, rebels knew their shameless way of life was coming to an end. They had threatened the Council for too long and they had to pay.

XIV.

The day the palace fell was the darkest of them all. Eldrit was released in all her furious glory telling her it was time to defend her egg, that they had finally breached the walls with the sole purpose of taking her little prince. But she was just one small sand dragon, brainwashed by decades of lying, of deceit, of deception. She was not prepared for an actual war, for an actual army, to be called a “rebel dragon” and be sent crashing through a marble tower, the entire structure collapsing under her.

XV.

Hearts are made out of muscle, so when they break they don’t make a sound. However, eggs do. Whichever one Eldrit heard was the loudest noise in the entire universe, it was deafening, it was maddening, it was infuriating, it was insufferable. The diamond looking pieces of eggshell were laying under a large marble column and Eldrit’s little prince was no more. And if he was no more, then nobody else had the right to be.

XVI.

With fury and rage born out of the purest grief, Eldrit broke off her enchanted chains and obliterated everything and everyone around her. It didn’t matter the affiliation, the species, the cause, she just annihilated with the power of a dragon much bigger and powerful than she was. Fire, ashes and smoke rained for hours as she bellowed and fought and destroyed, until she had nothing left.

XVII.


Waking up in a human body for the first time ever is a curse on its own. Waking up and remembering the destruction you caused, somehow worse. Waking up and looking at a piece of diamond eggshell tightly clenched in your human palm… Eldrit thought she was going to go insane again. Except now she couldn’t turn back into a dragon because she was wearing some different kind of collar, without diamonds. There were no chains. She was freezing. Her new body ached. She was on her way to some place called Firebrand. Still a slave. Now a traitor. Still alone. Without her little prince. To serve a new kind of sentence at a new kind of purgatory. Rightfully so, after everything she’s done.

XVIII.

Nothing about the city makes sense to the dragon now stuck in a human body. The air hurts her lungs, clothes hurt her skin, their food hurts her insides, it’s so cold all the time. She’s been in Firebrand for a month. She has a job that she’s somehow good at, her saving grace is her ability to learn things incredibly fast. She took to reading like hatchlings take to flying and there’s nothing inside a book that Eldrit doesn’t want to know; it’s an escape from the acidic grief that’s always consuming her and the reminder that she doesn’t want to be in a world without her little prince. What’s the point of trying to find a purpose when you don’t even want to have one anymore?

[megalony]

Fatal attraction- Part 3

Here is the next part in my latest royal! Ben Hardy series, I hope everyone will like it, thank you for the lovely feedback so far.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog���

Series taglist: @joseph-mozzerella @pippin248​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in an arranged marriage to form an alliance and they both want to make this marriage work. But when they have to get to know each other and there is a power play in their marriage, things aren’t going to be easy.

Enjoy.

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Just like home.

That one phrase hadn't stopped swirling around in (Y/n)'s head for roughly two weeks now and it was beginning to be all that she could concern herself with. This new palace, her new husband and this new life were beginning to remind (Y/n) of being back home with her parents and she didn't like it one bit. This wasn't supposed to feel like she was right back where she started, this was (Y/n)'s new life, it was a new chapter in the story that was her life and (Y/n) didn't want any part of this to resemble the life she had growing up.

Back home she was stuck in a repeated cycle of getting up at eight o'clock and having breakfast at the same table in the same room with the same seating plan. She would then have lessons on how to be prim and proper, on languages it was necessary for her to learn and the style of writing she needed to have. They were perfecting her into the Queen she was never going to become because she had married someone with more power than herself.

Home was living in a schedule that revolved around making (Y/n) perfect. But that wasn't the part that reminded her of home, it was how she felt stuck. When (Y/n) married Ben she assumed everything would be different and that was what she wanted, and now, as she sat having breakfast, she started weighing up the similarities and differences of her old home to her new, actual home here.

(Y/n) felt useless here just as she did back home but there were no lessons to occupy her. There was no essential role for her to carry out except tidying her and Ben's shared chambers. She couldn't do any cleaning because that would give her the role of a maid, she hadn't gotten any official duties to do like Ben did. He got to go to Parliament and have a meeting almost every day and he had papers to sign and documents to read and plans that needed his agreement and signature.

It left (Y/n) to roam the gardens or the palace that she now had committed to memory. The few differences she had found in this new home were very good, but they weren't enough. Having Ben as her husband was the biggest difference that (Y/n) could think of.

Ben meant that (Y/n) now got to share her room and her thoughts and opinions with someone who wasn't just her maid or governess. Ben was someone (Y/n)'s own age who understood, he was someone she could talk to in confidence and have arguments with that meant something and discussions that left her feeling uplifted rather than as if she was talking to herself.

Ben meant that (Y/n) shared her bed now rather than trying to go to sleep alone. That led to (Y/n) finding herself unable to sleep unless his arm was wrapped over her waist and his breaths or heartbeat could lull her to sleep. For the past three months she had been married to him, they seemed to have an understanding and a routine they were getting into, but the routines weren't the same. Some routines were just waking up at the same time and talking or talking before bed and sleeping close together or tangled up. Other routines meant Ben had things to do and people to see and (Y/n) had nothing.

Her husband was the one thing that made (Y/n) feel like this home was better and different, but he was also the thing causing the internal debates she was having about how she fitted in here.

When (Y/n) went to bed at night before she was married, she wondered what it would be like. She wondered if her new husband would be older than her or if he was around her age. She wondered if he would be handsome or plain or indifferent or would have some sort of striking feature she couldn't bear to look at. (Y/n) wondered if he would be short or tall, but she also worried about if he would be someone she could get along with.

(Y/n) knew as far as Ben was concerned, she had landed on her feet in terms of getting along. They were similar in age, he was striking to look at in the best sort of way, he was caring even if he liked to gloat at times and he definitely loved to tease her and joke around. He was willing to listen and he tried not to hold his power over her and make her his subject rather than his wife.

Their relationship was different because they felt like they were a new couple rather than newly married, but in Ben's eyes marriage was a piece of paper that wasn't anything to be concerned about and (Y/n) was beginning to feel the same. (Y/n) did hope things would keep going smoothly though, their relationship seemed to go in a jumbled order when (Y/n) liked things neat and precise and to follow the right pattern. Things like marriage, sex, sharing a bed and going to events all came first rather than getting to know each other and becoming comfortable and closer with each other.

Over these past few months, (Y/n) felt less like she was married to Ben and more like she was starting to get into a relationship with him. They had gotten married but that thought disappeared when (Y/n) was around Ben because seemed like they were getting to know one another and progressing towards marriage, rather than starting with it. And that was a good thing, they were coming closer together when (Y/n) had been very, very sure that she wouldn't get along with him and that this life was going to be insufferable.

"Are you going?" (Y/n) closed her eyes for a second longer than necessary as she internally cringed at how paranoid and rather desperate her words sounded.

She had barely started to touch her breakfast but Ben was finished and now seemed to be leaving the table already. At least with Ben sitting here it meant (Y/n) didn't have to try and strike up a conversation with his mother who they had meals with a few days a week. (Y/n) hated these days because she never knew what to say or what to do but Ben always led the conversation and he thought it fine if (Y/n) didn't participate or simply let her mind wander.

"Afraid so, why? Are you going to miss me whilst I'm gone?" Ben's signature smile pulled at his lips which curved up at one side into a lopsided smile that verged on a devilish smirk. His brows rose and his head ticked to the side as he pushed his chair back and stood to his feet, leaning one hand on the table so he could turn so he was facing (Y/n) on his left.

He felt a flutter in his chest when (Y/n)'s eyes were quick to look down at her plate of untouched food he guessed she wasn't going to eat. He could see the smile she was biting back and the blush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. Ben knew (Y/n) flushed when he teased or said a dirty joke or when he implied something, but he liked it when she blushed or nervously smiled.

"Sadly not." (Y/n) responded quietly before she leaned her chin on her hand, biting her lower lip as she debated leaving with him but she didn't know whether to go or not. She didn't want to be disrespectful to Ben's mother and she knew she should eat something, but (Y/n) was never a fan of breakfast and she didn't want to sit and have an awkward conversation. Lifting her eyes from her plate she looked up at Ben when she noticed he hadn't made a move to leave. "I thought you were leaving?"

Ben pursed his lips and nodded but when he rounded the side of the table, he moved to stand behind (Y/n)'s chair and leaned down so his hands were resting on her shoulders.

Lifting her head, (Y/n) turned to look up at Ben whist trying to keep her breathing under control. Neither of them had really been affectionate towards each other because they were still getting to know one another and get used to their new relationship. They'd been intimate, but affection was different, kisses were just on the cheek and even then they were rare. Hand holding didn't happen and a hand on the shoulder didn't even happen either.

But the way Ben's fingers were slowly brushing over her skin made (Y/n)'s stomach jump.

"Come with me." His words were so quiet (Y/n) barely managed to understand what he'd said over the blood rushing through her ears. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and she knew he'd felt her shivering from the feeling. But when she looked up at him, he wasn't smirking or teasing or messing around with her. He looked different, his smile was small but gentle, his eyes were inviting and kind and when his eyes darted to the side and back, it showed he was trying to help. He could sense how anxious she was and he wasn't about to walk away and leave her like this.

When (Y/n) stood up, Ben's hands left her shoulders but one moved to rest against her upper back. He nodded at his mother before the couple walked out of the room. (Y/n) didn't know where they were going so she just let Ben lead the way but she knew that when  his hand left her back, she could still feel it there and she wanted his touch back again.

"What are you doing today?" Ben turned his head so he was looking at (Y/n) as the pair of them slowly walked down the corridor.

"I'm not sure yet." Clasping her hands in front of her, (Y/n) scratched the palm of her hand with her wedding ring, a habit that was both out of nervousness and something to try and distract herself form her thoughts. The most (Y/n) had done was map out the palace by trailing around it each day and go around all of the gardens which had taken up some of her unlimited free time. But having nothing to do felt worse than back when she was growing up where she had far too much to do.

"Would you like something to do?" Ben's question wasn't a simple inquiry, it was an invitation to give (Y/n) some sort of job or hobby or just a little trinket to fill her time and give her mind something to work on. His eyes were inviting, just like they had been when he asked her to leave the table and it made (Y/n) curious.

Ben took (Y/n)'s curious look as a yes and it made his lips curve and the look in his eyes change. For a split second, (Y/n) thought he was going to reach out and take her hand to quickly steer her away somewhere and a big part of her wished he would. She wished he would take her hand and run down a corridor like they were children trying to avoid detection.

But he didn't, he simply beckoned for her to follow him as if she hadn't been already.

A rush of adrenaline and panic flooded (Y/n)'s chest when she realised he was guiding her back to their room and she knew the first thing she thought of couldn't be true because she remembered Ben had to go to a meeting. He wouldn't be late for that, he hated being late or anyone turning up late. There was no way Ben would bring (Y/n) up here to have sex when he had somewhere to be that was important like this. His question hadn't been one that would suggest sex, it was something innocent and kind and caring.

(Y/n) dug her ring further into her palm to stop herself from looking like she was outwardly panicking when she followed him into the connecting room that led into their bedroom. It was more of an office to them both and something between relief and disappointment coursed through (Y/n)'s veins when Ben walked over to the desk instead of opening the door to go into their bedroom.

"You could do the papers, if you like."

Approaching the desk with some caution, (Y/n) stood next to Ben and let her eyes dart between him and the desk before she looked closer at the extensive stack of papers he pulled out of a drawer. Reaching out, (Y/n) gently took one of the pages and brought it up so she could read what it was before she looked over at Ben in disbelief. Why was he suggesting this? She wasn't the King or the Queen, these were his documents that needed his signature and approval. She had seen him before going over these sort of documents before going to bed and it seemed to both bore and interest him at the same time.

(Y/n) was expecting Ben to find a book for her to read or a list to go through or just something or no importance. She didn't really think he would ask her to do a royal duty that was of importance, unless he was asking her this as some kind of joke.

"I can't do these, I'm not a Queen you know that. They need your approval, not mine." (Y/n) held the paper out to Ben and she couldn't hide the disappointment on her face because she wanted to do something like this. She wanted to be important and help wherever she could, but she couldn't do this. Even though she could understand the documents and what they meant, (Y/n) wasn't the one who had to sign them. Her approval wasn't as high as Ben's, he was the King, he was the top level of importance here.

Ben pursed his lips and took the paper from (Y/n)'s hand but as quick as anything, he set it back down on the stack and held out a pen to (Y/n) like it was a bargaining tool.

"You're not technically a Queen, I know that, but your my wife and that makes you the next highest authority here. You've been brought up to do this just as I have, and I say your approval is enough." Moving his hand, Ben urged (Y/n) to take the pen from him so she would agree to do this. He knew she wasn't the sovereign, but she was still a princess and (Y/n) knew what she was doing. They had both been brought up to be King and Queen, they were taught the same things so (Y/n) knew what to sign and what kind of things deserved or didn't deserve her approval.

Ben trusted (Y/n) to do this and it both gave her something to do and gave him one less job to do later. He said her approval was enough, no one was going to quarrel with (Y/n) if he said that.

Biting down on her lower lip, (Y/n) took a deep breath before she relented and took the pen from his hand, unable to stop her lips from pulling into a small smile. Maybe he would let her do this from now on, it could be her official duty here or he could find her something else she could do to help so he didn't have as much on his plate. Surely if Ben trusted her to do this he would trust her to help with everything else if he needed her to.

She finally had something to do that made her feel like she had a purpose here.

"Thank you." (Y/n) gripped the pen a bit tighter when Ben took a few steps closer until there was almost no air of space between them causing (Y/n) to have to tilt her head up to look at him properly.

"You don't have to thank me, you've been raised to do this as well, you shouldn't have that obligation and work taken from you just because you married me." Ben knew that if it was the other way around and (Y/n) was the Queen, he would hate to move to her country and have nothing to do or no authority. He wouldn't want to sit around feeling useless or feel resentful that he spent his life learning to be King, only to marry a Queen and have that opportunity and title taken away from him.

(Y/n) knew what she was doing, she should be allowed to help him instead of sitting back and watching. She didn't want to marry a King in the first place but she had to so Ben wasn't going to make her life any worse for her.

"Alright, I really should go to that meeting now but when it's finished I'll come find you."

Nodding her head, (Y/n) smiled and reached out for the chair on her right, getting ready to move it so she could sit down when Ben left the room. But her mind suddenly started to short circuit and go blank when he leaned forward. (Y/n)'s eyes widened and her body froze completely when Ben suddenly kissed her.

He'd never done that before, at least not randomly like this.

He never displayed affection for no reason like this, he only kissed her when they were getting married or during sex. He'd never kissed her like this in the three months they'd been married. But here he was, moving his hand to cup her face and kissing her like they'd done this thousands of times before and it was no big deal.

Realising she wasn't moving, (Y/n) broke out of her frozen state so she could hold on to his wrist, giving him a sign that she wasn't in shock or angered at his sudden movement. But as quick as he seemed to deepen the kiss, he suddenly pulled away. His lips curved into the kind of gentle smile (Y/n) hadn't seen him display before but she had no time to stare at the new expression because his hand left her face and he was leaving.

As soon as the door closed behind Ben, (Y/n) moved her hand to lightly press the pad of her fingers against her lips as her other hand gripped the back of the chair so she didn't collapse. He was the first person she had ever kissed, but that was the first loving kiss they'd had and it had been so out of the blue.

Why did he do that?

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

"Why are you awake?"

Opening her eyes amidst the darkness swamping the room, (Y/n) stayed deathly still despite Ben clearly knowing she was still awake rather than being asleep when it must be well past midnight by now. When (Y/n) couldn't sleep she ended up either tossing and turning or mindlessly jittering and tapping her hands against the mattress. But now she was sharing a bed with Ben, whenever she couldn't sleep and she felt like she was moving too much, she would try and stay deadly still to make sure she didn't want up Ben.

He must have realised she wasn't moving at all and guessed she was awake.

(Y/n) could feel her heart beginning to pick up speed as thousands of thoughts started to race around in her mind and crash together. She knew the reason she was awake right now, there was something playing on her mind that she couldn't ignore. But if she told Ben what was on her mind, she doubted he would be able to get back to sleep either.

Should she tell him? She would have to end up telling him sooner or later anyway and it was constant on her mind tonight.

"I... I- I can't sleep." The words were sitting on the very edge of (Y/n)'s tongue, just about to jump to freedom before she bit them back. She didn't want to tell him when he was drowsed with sleep and about to go back into a dreamless state. This wasn't the way to approach the subject.

Burying her head further into the pillow, (Y/n) closed her eyes and willed her mind to shut down so she could fall asleep and Ben could get back to doing the same. Her breath caught in her lungs when she felt Ben slowly pushing himself up on his elbow so he could lean over and look at her in the darkness. Something was telling him that there was something keeping her awake but he decided against pushing the subject. If it was something serious or important (Y/n) would have told him.

Laying back down, Ben moved his arm so it was a bit tighter around (Y/n)'s waist, pulling her back against his chest so he could tuck his head into the crook of her neck. He closed his eyes and tiredly pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her neck, hoping she would fall asleep soon since it was late.

"Close your eyes and let your mind drift, don't focus on anything, it makes it a lot easier." Ben mumbled the words against her skin as (Y/n) took his hand that was resting on her waist and entwined her fingers with his. She could already feel Ben slipping back to sleep and (Y/n) wanted to possess that ability. To be able to just fall right back asleep was something she had never been able to do.

(Y/n) tried. As she felt Ben's breaths evening out and the tension leaving his muscles, she tried to let every thought wash over her head without dwelling on any in particular. But one thought kept coming back to her like it was right in front of her in flashing lights so she couldn't help but think about it and it made her legs curl up and her hand tighten around Ben's. It was the one thought she kept coming back to which hadn't left her mind since she came back from taking a trip out this morning.

She was pregnant.

[lamesorrow]

Dig, dig, dig

After seven hours spent shovelling sand in the searing heat of Uldum Varius was slowly starting to think that the Thalassian reverence of the sun was severely misplaced. Thick beads of sweat tickled mercilessly as they trailed down his stomach and back, pooling in the indents between each tired muscle. His shoulders on the other hand were starting to burn despite sun-protecting ointment he slathered all over his body in the morning, unsubtly implying that he will soon be shedding peeled skin all over the place like an oversized lizard.

Still, duty was duty and as such there was nothing Varius could do but pick the shovel up himself and dig. Unsurprisingly enough, while plenty of scholars were very excited about going to Uldum to uncover priceless Titan-made artifacts, the diggers were much less eager to work in the sweltering heat.

People often had a (very) inaccurate picture of archaeology as a gentle thing, one that was all about revered scholars using tiny brushes to lovingly sweep the dust away from half-unearthed relics. The much less romantic reality was that the main tool of an archaeologist was a shovel. The bulk of the work was done by the diggers.

And what to do in the absence of the diggers? Why, the Blood Knights were the next best thing.

Varius sighed deeply. He was being very unfair now, of course; he didn't have to dig. He was technically the coordinator of this expedition after all. It's just that he's always been the kind of person who preferred to have the work done rather than undone, so seeing the untouched excavation site rubbed him the wrong way. It was more of an internal imperative than an order to follow.

Lost in thought, he almost missed the red wooden pole that the archaeologists used to mark the end of the interesting perimeter.

Varius stabbed the shovel into the sand and placed his hands on his hips. He critically regarded his work. A swatch of land had been sectioned off with red string and dotted with marker flags to identify places that held a realistic promise of precious artifacts from a bygone era.

The knight grunted and reached for a small square of cloth that he had folded and tucked behind his belt to stop the sweat trailing down from his spine. The tissue was a little damp and became considerably damper when he used it to wipe his chest and neck.

He instinctively looked around, eyeing the nearby hills for enemies and friends alike. He saw several dark shapes of sentries posted where he wanted them to be and no sight of anything else, be it the locals or the Alliance. Good. The few diggers that let the gold cloud their judgement for long enough to make them agree to join this expedition were safe to, as Lei—as surveyor Brightcloud put it, “play around in the dirt.”

Brightcloud himself was nowhere to be seen. No doubt the sight of sweaty elves insulted his delicate sensibilities. Since the expedition started Varius hadn't seen him leave the main pavilion during the day even once, and even long after nightfall the best the world could see of Leinan was just a flash of his ornate robe as he quickly made his way to his own aircane-conditioned tent.

That thought made Varius exhale softly in relief. Their relationship was short-lived and happened to fizzle out right before the Reliquary was scheduled to embark on the expedition to Uldum. It was way too late to find a replacement for either of them, so Varius had to go through this awkward post-breakup period with no chances for even a bit of solitude and privacy. The memory of Leinan's words still stung painfully whenever he let his mind wander.

You don't care enough.

You don't spend enough time with me.

You would make time for me if you loved me.

You don't make me feel wanted.

You don't love me any more.

I don't love you any more.

Varius sighed.

He was a soldier and he loved like a soldier; in the free moments, when he could afford to think about his own matters. Warmly but quietly. Without much pomp or fanfare.

That was not enough for men like Leinan Brightcloud. He wanted to be courted, fawned over, constantly showered with gifts and attention. Varius understood that, he really did, and he tried, but whenever he came home after a long night spent escorting a convoy and fending off pirates, mercenaries and thieves, all he wanted to do was take a quick bath, collapse on the bed and sleep for a week... Not go to the opera, check out that cute little bakery that opened on the opposite side of the city, make a detour to visit the botanical garden and finally walk all the way back home just to be roped into making love for approximately three hours. Oh, he forgot about the wine. With Leinan Brightcloud one never forgot about the wine. There would've been wine. Plenty of wine.

And then a repeat of that the next day. And the next. And the next.

It was a little cruel to admit, but—despite the sadness and disappointment—Varius' quality of life went up considerably since that breakup. For starters he was actually getting enough sleep to be at least remotely functional again.

He looked up again and froze when he saw the flap of the pavilion ripple and move away. For a second he fully expected to see Leinan's face—but no. It was just Melathara, armed with her white parasol. Varius felt his shoulders sag in relief and instantly felt bad about it.

Mel waved at him cheerfully and made her way across the dig site. Between a bright orange dress, an equally orange headband and kaldorei-style laced-up sandals she looked like she was on her way to attend a beach party rather than conduct important research. That unpretentious approach to life was easily Varius' favourite thing about her.

He watched her approach with a small smile that only grew wider when he noticed a large glass jug in her hand.

“I see you're being your usual overachieving self again,” Mel called out happily. “How's it going?”

“Hard to say. Difficult to make a proper test pit in these conditions, but... two more levels and I think we're going to know whether or not these are a waste of time,” Varius said, nodding towards the markers that dotted the site.

Mel handed him the jug and he almost dropped it when his tired, puffy fingers closed around icy glass. “Ice,” he whispered reverently. “Mel, I love you.”

She laughed loudly and affectionately slapped his shoulder. Then she groaned and wiped her hand on the expensive fabric of her dress. “Sunwell, you're sticky. I've changed my mind; give me that jug, you're going to drop it.”

Varius obediently let her take the jug back and took a few steps away from the dig site to avoid accidentally damaging any artifacts—there was no realistic way of that happening now, but at this point protecting the excavation was a deeply-ingrained instinct he didn't bother fighting.

He gasped loudly when Mel poured cold water over his hands. Soothing coolness breathed some life into his tense wrists and swollen fingers. Varius sighed gratefully and slowly rubbed his hands, trying to work the moisture into his dry skin.

“Bend over,” Mel said. “I'll cool down your neck.”

He obediently folded himself in half and reached for his ponytail to keep the hair out of the way. The splash of cold water over his sun-warmed skin could only be described as shocking, but in a good way. Cold droplets trailing down his shoulders made him shudder in intense relief.

“Thanks, Mel,” he sighed contentedly and straightened out his back. His friend smiled at him.

“Don't mention it. I was dying to get out of that tent anyway.”

Varius hesitated and cast a cautious look at the pavilion.

“How is...?”

“Leinan?” Mel rolled her eyes. “Drowning his grief in wine, swearing that he's never falling in love again and proclaiming that all Blood Knights are emotionless bastards. He's pretty insufferable, really, but that's his usual state of being. Once he reaps his share of condolences and consolation he's going to forget all about it. Trust me, I know him.”

Varius nodded. On one hand, that was comforting—he didn't want Leinan to suffer. On the other hand... it was a little hurtful to be made aware just how forgettable he apparently was.

Mel instantly picked up on his discomfort. She shook her head and gave him a lopsided smile. “No, Vari, don't you worry about that. I told you: I know Leinan. He's a vapid, shallow bimbo.”

Varius winced, prickled by the instinct to defend his (former) boyfriend's honour. As brutal as it was, Mel's statement was... not entirely wrong, but it was definitely not right either; those several months they had spent together had assured Varius that Leinan Brightcloud was a witty, quirky and inquisitive individual. Yes, he was a little prone to theatrics and drama, but which nobleman wasn't? Varius couldn't even blame him for being spoiled and attention-seeking, not after attending that one memorable family reunion and seeing how the nobleborn children were being treated. All shortcomings of Leinan's character were simply a product of his upbringing and to hold it against him would be cruel.

“You have a terrible taste in men,” Mel added, not at all helpfully. Varius grunted.

“Maybe I should stop trying,” he said dryly and reached for his shovel.

“Or maybe you should let me try to fix your bachelor status.”

Varius gave his friend a disbelieving look. “Aren't you the one who set me up with that Farstrider?” He asked incredulously. “The one who insisted on being called 'Wolf' and glared at everything? And smelled like damp leaves?”

Mel scoffed. “It was a trial run!”

“It was a disaster, Mel.”

The mage snorted. Even she couldn't argue that, from the looks of it.

“Okay, fine,” she agreed reluctantly. “But there are plenty more fish in the sea, you know. For example, I was thinking about introducing you to my cousin Elberan...”

Varius raised his eyebrow. “The one that spends extraordinary amounts of gold on vintage Magic: The Sundering trading card games?” he asked, feeling amusement pull at the corners of his lips.

Mel gave him a sour smile. “For a man whose love life consists of a string of awful relationships, you sure are picky,” she said dryly.

“If you want to send me on a blind date with one of your relatives then maybe don't make me listen to endless lists of things you don't like about them.”

Varius rolled his shoulders. Sunlight was already warming up the damp skin on his neck, but there was still work to be done. Cold water helped, but not nearly as much as Mel's presence did. The knight glanced at his friend and gave her a wide, shameless smirk.

“Besides,” he added, knowing full well that his next statement would be enough to make Elberan run away screaming if he ever heard it, “I've always liked Hearthstone better.”