#rush the fairy

[maniakmonkey]

One of the dangers of Giants' Magic is losing control of your size after getting drunk!

The second danger is the costs in damages and ale and hangover awaiting you the next morning!

[kaicean]

happy (late) nalu day 2024 ✨

[celestialulu]

nalu cuddling for day one of nalu week !!

open for higher quality :]

[mahi-does-obey-me]

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

Was not expecting my first ever Solomon art to be Ghostface flavored but it's hot so who am I to complain?

[maniakmonkey]

Rush!!! She looks so rad, thanks again!!!

Pinup YCH Commission for @maniamonkey!

Ko-fi + Patreon + Prices

[themoonstonechronicler]

for the dancing and the dreaming (please click for quality)

[grimesgirll]

“nah, baby, i’m not gonna be able to stop when i start.”

“let’s share then!”

“blood?”

you nod eagerly and daryl shakes his head again, muttering a no, baby, it’s not a good idea but your hand is on his bicep, bare neck front and center, and you feel him twitch in his pants beneath you. letting out a naughty giggle, you grind further onto your beloved vampire. “c’mon,” you coo. “you know you wanna.”

“you know i do, girl,” daryl breathes against your shoulder when you lean down to begin kissing his own, trailing up to his neck. he shudders with you on atop him. “baby,” he protests as you place hot, open mouthed kisses all over his pale skin.

"then why don't you let me taste you and i'll let you taste me?"

you propose that as if daryl hadn't seen the fucking face of god last time he'd tasted you.

"drinking from your kind is dangerous." he tells you immediately, even scooching back as if to not be so close to your irresistible smelling neck.

"but i trust you!" you insist and wrap your arms around him to pull the cold blooded man close to your chest. "why don't you trust me on this?"

"because i love you too much for you to let me drain you in the fucking bed."

a huff escapes you. "dare',"

"don't start that."

"but you'll be able to control yourself. i know it," you promise and press a kiss to his cheek, then his lips, reveling in how he softened into you. you only withdraw your lips to assure him, "let's just do it. i wanna taste you, dare'." your lips twinge into a crooked grin once daryl slides off slightly to reach off the side of the bed.

a flash of silver from the nightstand and daryl’s raising a freshly incised wrist to your lips.

for me? you mouth before parting your lips to let the thick liquid fall between them.

you haven’t had much vampire blood before. only once before in a dire emergency had daryl offered you his wrist. it feels special - like he’s yielding something sacred when it coats your tongue and you swallow what john hopkins' leading biologists had deemed the ultimate life blood.

daryl drops his wrist after you down a mouthful and is suddenly transfixed by how rapidly black, vivid dilation consumes your once bright eyes. only a thin ring of color remains on the edge of your iris. wooziness sets in and daryl's rushing to curl you into his side and recline you on the satin pillows of your shared bed. he can't help but swell in his pants at the spectacle he's made of you lolling your tongue out just a little to catch the dribble down your lips.

“now it’s your turn.”

“girl i said-,”

“-i know what you said!” you exclaim. daryl’s darkened eyes widen at your outburst. you sweep a tress of hair behind your head and roll your eyes. “i’m gonna be fine. please, dare’!” you pout. “i know you can just take a little. try it!”

“but what if-,”

“-you won’t.”

now you're nearly on top of your undead lover again - hands planted on his uncut forearm to urge him. "dare', it's only fair."

"it's not fair to drain you, baby," your auburn haired boyfriend counters. "you know how vamps get about fairy blood."

"just try it," and despite his speed, he almost misses the knife you're about to clean off. "hey!" you protest once he tosses it across trhe room.

"fine, just let me," daryl gives in.

you beam with delight. your lips find his again and envelope them, slipping your tongue inside as you bring his strong, calloused hand to your collarbone and slant into the welcoming bed. the hesitation you sense, you try to assuage with a thoughtful hand on his chest, twisting to touch his torso and draw him against you.

the sound of daryl's robust fangs coming forth has you already dripping. you squirm against his weight, already tilting your hips beneath him and his dick isn't even out.

"you ready, baby?"

a gentle hand comes to your chin, and daryl's wondering if it's even fair to ask you this in this rapturous state. to no one's surprise, you're nodding and begging for him to "just fucking bite" you already.

without further ado, daryl dips his fanged bite to the delicate skin of your neck. those sharp, penetrating teeth don't even factor into your experience. you're waiting for pain - daryl told you it sometimes hurt.

devoid of it or delayed, the pain never comes. just pleasure.

"ah, fuck!" you croon lustily. echoing your expletive with another moan. you feel daryl stop, not sucking or puncturing further. you whine and hook your leg under and around his. "don't stop," you demand raggedly.

so he doesn't. daryl drops his incisors fully into your neck, murmuring something through a blood filled mouth into your neck.

"fuck, dare'," you rasp.

the tugging through your neck, through your veins is only a dull, thrilling ache with daryl’s blood in your system. he may as well just be kissing your neck - delivering the ultimate hickey. whatever pain the bite victims on the news went on about when the anti-VRA people clearly did not present while infused with vampire blood.

it's not long before your boy is coming up for air.

blood dripping from his mouth, he's never looked more handsome.

you immediately pull him in for a sloppy kiss, not caring for the irony taste of you on his tongue or wondering why he's not insisting that he wipe off before he kisses you. no, daryl's arching into the kiss and returning your bump and grind with his own hips. you giggle into his mouth. daryl's high on fairy blood. your favorite.

ferocity takes over your formerly - somewhat - tame creature of the night. inhabitations dead and buried, daryl's not hesitating this time to get his lips on your neck - or to hike down your skirt. your legs kick desperately as you wiggle your brown skirt past your ass and suddenly your legs are in the air. held by one hand, your knees crunch above your chest and your panties are thrown to the floor. nose sharply inhaling as if he could siphon every delicious scent, every delectable drop of you from his nose through your clit.

"mhmm," you coo needily. "daryl!"

a tongue laves its way around your clit from side to side, then up and down as if blood drunk daryl couldn't decide. those unwavering hands keep your thighs propped up regardless. you buck and thrash but with daryl's hands on you, you remain still and twitch into his touch. your musk still dancing on his tongue and on the tip of every one of his senses just as he digs his fingers into your thighs. that seemingly supernatural tongue flicks around your clit and teases your core.

a buildup is on the brink of collapse before you even know it. there's no warning sign except for an involuntarily husk and the slick suddenly complimenting and wetting his pretty, pleasure driving lips already coated in your whimsical blood. the same fairy blood that he's going to his head. he can't tell if he's pussy drunk or overdosing on your sweetness.

and you can't tell the difference between time and space. both entities flicker on the edge of your peripherals as a blinding, body curling rush crashes through you. lightning can't compare. no tongue in the world could have you coming undone this way. if you two weren't so wrapped up in each other and the potency of your blood, you may be embarrassed but there's no room to be embarrassed with a vampire between your legs. a creature who loves nothing more than to build you up even past the point of breaking. he can't help but grow louder and even more aggressive in his tongue led campaign against your sensitive, fleshy core. you tighten and untighten, coil and burst until you're convulsing and coming onto daryl.

there's no chance to catch your breath as the wild weapon weaves even more neediness into you with the sweetness he's stealing from between your thighs. the campaign proceeds north, detailing a messy, hot, purple trail from your lower lips along your torso, your tits and to the lips quivering, still trying to trap breath in any way possible.

you're indulging in your own sweet, slick musk from daryl's lips and encircling your arms around him for anchorage once more. your hips on top of each other propels daryl in motion to yank his pants down. between you, his boxers are sliding down and he's knocking them off the bed.

an animalistic growl erupts from him just at the sensation of your slick pussy beneath his girthy cock. dick in hand, daryl is lining up with your slip n' slide of an entrance. suddenly you're pleading. puffing out pleases all while daryl sucks up the divine array in front of him.

head buried into your chest, it's easier to combat the chaos your blood has swirling around in your head. its heat inducing and dastardly just how hot you are like this. punctures on your neck healing, tits bouncing with every bated breath, voice dripping like honey. the vampire presses fangless kisses against your skin when he finally pushes his hips forward.

"fuck!" is your exclamation of choice.

"so fuckin' good," daryl husks into your chest.

an inch or two at a time is how daryl takes you. a tit cupped in one hand and yours in the other, daryl is sure to grate against your clit as he eases in. each labored moan eggs him to go further. the vulgar syllables you're uttering only urge daryl. eventually he's eating up every fuck, shit, and jesus christ with a crushing kiss.

hot and heavy, you two rapture yourselves into the most sinfully delightful rhythm. the drag of his cock against you feels like the finest massage. the edges of your vision are already spotty, so you just coax daryl closer and clench down on his cock.

"fuck," you two rasp in unison.

"c'mon, dare'," you're already croaking. "i'm already close."

daryl doesn't need to look up from licking the fervid skin of your breasts to know your lips are swollen, eyes blinking back tears, and dumbstruck. but when he finally tilts his head up, it makes all the difference. then he's diving to meet your lips.

those thigh muscles work into you without pause. thumping and smacking the wall, the bed feels like a faraway universe compared to the world outside.

your muscles tighten around him to remind that you are so close. so close that a finger against your clit has you squealing. daryl only subjects you to the dual motions long enough to feel the tension in your core crumble and crush his cock. he doesn't need every sense heightened by fairy blood to fill you up faster than he'd like. now though, with no resolve or reason he can summon to stop, he's on the edge of euphoria.

daryl immersed in you has you riding the same high. teary eyes long to capture the sight of him so relaxed. removed from any drama or stress, you wish you two could roll around like this every day. to thrust your face towards his and feel his stubble, to kiss hungrily, and feel his lips on yours as he finishes.

spurting into you like no tomorrow, daryl drives his hot seed into you. the hips that have you pinned to the sheets show no sign of stopping. in and out, in and out. the motion repeats itself as daryl rams every last bit of himself into you and you snap and shriek.

tremors trickle through you until they're turning to thunder crackles around daryl's cock. the sounds spilling from you two soundtrack your thoroughgoing, salacious release. "holy fuck, you feel good inside of me," you're cawing into his ear as you canter closer to coming down.

blissed out on the bed, the two of you don’t know where one of you begins and the other ends. tangled together is the only state you can comprehend. a whimper runs through you once daryl gently tugs his cock from your messy pussy. the cool air coasting up and down your folds startled you, not as much as the finger gathering up your slick - which daryl licks clean.

“fuck, and how many hours to dawn?” you ask, sitting up on lazy elbows.

“long enough for you to get some sleep.”

you huff. even through teary, lusty eyes you’re

“you gotta sleep off the v, girl.”

“it’s not v.” you argue instantly. you curl up to daryl’s side and drop your chin onto his shoulder. “it’s you. i don’t wanna sleep you off.”

“well you’re gonna be bouncin’ off the walls if you don’t,” and when your fingers start sliding down your lover’s torso, he takes the time to wrestle you into the soft mattress. instantly, his mouth is attached to your already healing wound - courtesy of the v, his blood.

pinned beneath daryl, you could go to sleep. fade into the mattress or the feeling of pure joy consuming you. but then you hook a leg around his and when your eyes meet, his are blacked out. or you could go for round two?

[jinji-ia]

࣪ ִֶָ☾.🐚 Have you ever heard the story of the Sea that loved the Moon?

Mini comic for my school :3 (translated)

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Garden of Wishes: A Retelling of “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”

We go to the same garden every day, but you never see me. Why should you? You are the Princess Sonatina, youngest daughter of the greatest king on five continents, while I am only a gardener's assistant, with not even a surname of my own, save one that was given to me half as a taunt for my daydreaming ways. If you were ever to ask, I would tell you I answer to Michael Stargazer—but you never will think to ask, and I will never presume to speak.

Instead, I work silently in the gardens, while you wander past with your sisters—eleven of them, all unsurpassed in beauty of face and form and voice—laughing and chatting and singing snatches of songs. You are all more beautiful and vibrant than any of the flowers I tend, and I feel more alive just being near you.

Then the day comes when your morning songs are silent. You drag weary feet through the gardens, look blankly at the beauties of the world, lounge wearily along the edges of fountains and atop retaining walls. The rumor comes that every night, you are all wearing through your shoes.

Were I a prince, I would think no quest too perilous to save you from such sickness. I would climb a million trees in search of golden apples, cross storm-filled oceans in search of the Water of Life, work a dozen years at impossible tasks to find the key to ending your curse.

But I'm only a gardener, and nobody's son, so it falls to those with name and fortune to try their hands at saving you. The king has vowed that the man who finds the secret of where you go at night will win your hand in marriage, and there are many who are willing and worthy to try.

They are wonderful men—strong and handsome, noble and brave, with royal titles, vast holdings, great fortunes. They have skills and talents that a simple gardener could never match. Any one of them would make a fine husband for a princess. Yet all of them, to a man, disappear within a day of taking up their quest.

The rumors turn darker then, casting you not as victims but villains, luring men to their deaths with some dark magic of your own. Those who say such things did not see you in the gardens, or they would know that not one of you is capable of the crimes they accuse you of. Unfortunately, no one will ask a garden lad's thoughts, and I cannot speak unbidden unless I have proof.

So I go to the gardens and find two tiny rose trees. The head gardener tried to tear them out, in my first days at the palace, and I convinced him to let them live. I have watered them, fed them, saved them from disease and decay, told them stories of the princesses they serve. You have never seen them, I'm sure—you have never seen me—but though they are small, they are fine little plants, with dark, glossy green leaves, and little buds that seem always to be waiting for just the right time to bloom. An old woman told me once that they were wishing trees, planted in the earliest days of the kingdom's existence, and my service to them meant they would give me anything I desired.

For myself, I want nothing—wishes too easily become the ruin of those who have them granted—but for you, I would dare all. I ask my two rose trees to make me not only unseen, but unseeable, able to follow invisibly wherever you go.

The rose tree sprouts a single bloom, its petals so white and delicate they are almost transparent. When I pluck it from the bush, I disappear from sight. I place it in my buttonhole and move about the gardens, unseen by all who cross my path, even in the brightest sun.

That night, I follow you into the bedroom you share with your sisters, and I hide beneath the largest bed while the room above fills with the sounds of rustling dresses, clinking jewels, and girlish whispers. At last, your eldest sister Aria declares you dressed to perfection and calls for silence.

I creep out from under the bed and find you and your sisters dressed in ballroom finery—silks and satins and twelve pairs of perfectly-mended dancing shoes. I take my place just behind you, and find you more beautiful than ever in this moonlit room.

Aria pulls aside a tapestry, and the blank stone wall suddenly becomes an wooden door that Aria opens to reveal a torchlit staircase. You all rush through in single file. I keep close at your heels, afraid that I'll be left behind unseen.

I rush past where Aria holds the door, afraid she'll follow too close and crash into my unseen form. In doing so, I trod too near your skirt. The fabric tears beneath my foot as you take your first steps down the stairs.

You shriek and grab hold of Lyra, standing just before you on the stairs. "Someone stood on my skirt!" you scream.

I hold myself flat against the damp stone wall, heart pounding so fast that I'm certain you hear me.

Aria breezes down the staircase, rolling her eyes at her foolish juniors. "Don't be silly, Tina," Aria says. "I was nowhere near you on the stairs."

You protest that you felt someone on your skirt, but your cries for belief are drowned out by eleven dissenting voices, and your sisters continue down the staircase. You go only reluctantly, looking back at me—right through me—a thousand times as you go forth. Were it not for the weight of my mission, I would cast off the rose in the hope of a single moment when our eyes could truly meet.

After what seems like a million stairs, we emerge into an open clearing that would look like the outdoors if there was any sight of sky above. Trees tower over us with drops of silver on their branches, like rain upon the leaves. Further down the path is a gold-spattered orchard, each precious drop catching the soft white light that comes from I know not where. Even further beyond is a forest full of diamonds, every stone flashing fiery rainbows.

The forests are strange, but also strangely unsurprising—as though they've always been here, but simply unseen. Your sisters whisper of the night that this place was wished into existence—a place where they might revel in pure beauty and joy, away from the weighty expectations of the watchful world.

But the forest, it seems, is only a prelude—the true marvel is far ahead. We emerge onto the shores of a shimmering lake—so vast, so deep, and so darkly blue that I can see neither the bottom nor the opposite shore. On an island in its center stands a castle so magnificent that it makes your father's palace seem like a paper toy. Its white, sculpted spires glitter with gems in a thousand colors, every brick spangled with precious stones. Its windows hold wonders caught in flawless stained glass. Music sweeter than any I've ever heard pours out its open doors. Light from within forms a shining path across the lake, upon which float twelve sleek obsidian-colored boats.

Each boat has a boatman who rows swiftly toward the shore, and as they approach, I find that I know all the faces. Every one of these men is a prince who failed at finding your secret—or rather, they found it, and did not return. They are dressed in silks and velvets unlike any I've seen in the outer world, too rich for comprehension. As they slide up to the shore and each offer a place to one of you girls, they wear smiles that shine as bright as your own—but there is also something empty in their eyes.

You, as the youngest, take your place in the very last boat of all, piloted by a king's younger son whose sires have ruled half a continent for centuries. He smiles and bows as he takes you by the hand. The way your eyes light up make me wonder if I've seen what you look like in love.

The prince rows with arms strengthened by a warrior's skill—I doubt he's ever held a shovel in his life—but the other boats still outpace us by far.

"Why are you so slow tonight?" you ask him, half teasing, but with a trace of true annoyance.

"The boat is heavy," he says, "and I know not why."

You glance backward, toward where I sit in the stern, and again, I half-wish you could see me. But I let out a sigh of relief when you turn your eyes back toward the castle and give no further thought to unknowable truths.

We disembark on a dock just beneath the castle entrance, and in moments we are inside the palace of enchantment. This is a ballroom beyond what I could imagine—floors of marble streaked with gold and silver, towering windows displaying fantastical birds and beasts, spidery silver chandeliers holding thousands of brightly-lit candles, and at the far end of the room, tables tottering beneath food enough to half a nation.

But this splendor is nothing compared to the beauty of the music. It is like a living thing—vibrant, rapturous, all-consuming, pulling all into it like a roaring, flowing river. The moment one steps through the door, there is nothing one can do but dance. Your prince pulls you into his arms, and your sisters' princes do the same, and soon you are swirling through that wondrous room, beauty and motion and life all brought to their fullness and put into perfect order. All along the edges of that room are other faces—other princes who've failed at your father's quest—and they all take their turn in the dance.

If I thought you alive in the gardens, you are a thousand times more vibrant now, laughing and dancing so you glow with pure joy. These princes are your perfect partners, matching you with every step, reflecting the glow that you bring to the room. If I ever thought that I could take a place beside them, maybe win your father's wager and claim a princess for my bride, that spark is snuffed by the brightness of your blaze. You are ethereal, almost angelic, and could never be happy with one whose hands are stained from working with the common, solid Earth.

While the princes take their turns, you and your sisters dance without ceasing, and I no longer wonder how you could wear through your shoes in a single night. Those shoes are little more than tatters by the time the last note of the last dance plays, and the twelve of you trudge toward the boats to reach bed. Your princes are silent as they row the boats to the forested shore, and you, Sonatina, do not say a word about his slowness.

When you reach the banks, your prince bids you farewell, then all twelve of them row back to the palace, choosing to stay in the splendor rather than return to the pressures of their ordinary lives. After what I have seen, I cannot blame them for their choice.

But you and your sisters choose to return to your father. You trudge through the diamond, then gold, then silver-spangled forests, and as your sisters file one-by-one up the staircase, I realize that none of this fantastic tale will have a ring of truth unless I have something to bring as proof. I reach toward the nearest tree and snap off a slender silver branch. It disappears from sight as soon as I touch it to my clothes, but the sound of its breaking rings through that silent wood like a gunshot.

You jump at the sound and are suddenly wide, wide awake.

"What was that?" you ask your sister.

Aria rolls her eyes. "Only an owl," she says. "You know it roosts in the castle at night."

The explanation does not please you, I can tell, but having no other, you fall silent and leave the silver woods behind.

When you are all safely asleep in bed, I slip unseen through the door and make my way invisibly to my small cot in the servants' quarters. When I lay on my bunk, I take off the rose, and my face reappears in the reflection off the washing bowl. I look as I did before I left, though infinitely wearier, and perhaps—though it might only be fancy—I carry something in my eyes of the enchantment of the night.

In my hands sits the branch I broke, its leaves as green, its silver dewdrops as solid, as they were in that fantastical land. I imagine myself taking it to the king at dawn, having triumphed where the sons of kings and emperors have failed.

Then I imagine the you and your sisters standing by. In a horrible flash, the daydream shatters, and I see myself for what I am—a sneak and a spook, who crept uninvited into a strange woman's room to steal evidence that would bar her from the place she loves most in the world. If I have a role in this tale, it is as the villain, not the hero. I have triumphed in discovering the secret, but if I have any love in my heart for you, I cannot think of speaking.

After a short hour's sleep, I awake with the dawn, but I do not go to the king with what I've found. Instead, I go to the head gardener and get myself assigned the task of bringing the twelve princesses their morning bouquets. I gather careful handfuls of daisies and larkspur and bind them together with handfuls of greenery. I hand them to your sisters one by one as they come bleary-eyed to your bedroom door. When you come to me, last of all, I make sure that your bouquet contains a single silver-spangled branch.

Then, at last, you see me.

#

Golden sunlight streams down upon a freshly-turned flower bed. I am soaked with sweat and crusted with dirt as I shovel mulch around newly-planted seedlings. I can imagine no scene less like the moonlit enchantment of your jeweled forests and wondrous dances. Even you, when you come into the garden, are nothing like you were last night. Your golden brown hair is unruly, your dress is hastily done-up, and instead of floating with ethereal grace, you storm toward me like an angry warrior goddess.

Only the branch, silver-spangled, is the same as it was last night, when you brandish it beneath my nose.

"Garden boy, where did this branch come from?" you demand.

Your eyes blaze and your golden curls flash in the sun. I could cast myself at your feet in devotion.

I keep my countenance blank and my eyes downcast—the dutiful, lowly servant. "Your highness knows better than I," I reply.

"You have followed us!" you hiss.

I raise my head to meet your gaze. It is a wonder I am not struck dead by your fury. "Yes, your highness."

"How? I saw no one."

"I hid myself."

"It is impossible. I don't believe it."

"Believe as you like," I say. "You will still hold the branch."

You scramble to grasp something at your belt, and you throw a sack full of gold at my feet. "Keep your silence, and you will have this and more besides."

I stare at the bag of gold—more than I could earn with a year's labor—and my heart sinks like a stone. This is what I am to you. Not a man of honor, whose heart and reason can be trusted, but a common blackmailer whose silence can be purchased for a price.

"I will not be bought," I say, and when your face goes white, I add gently, "You have nothing to fear from me."

It is only after dark that it strikes me I may have something to fear from you. I have vowed my silence, but you have said nothing about yours. The secret encompasses your sisters and nearly two dozen princes. What would they be willing to do to ensure my silence?

Though the thought shames me, I cannot vanquish the fear. I must know more about you royals and your hidden world—and I long to spend just one more night in that palace of enchantment. I take the pale rose from its cup on my washstand, place it in my buttonhole, and make my way invisibly to your room.

You and your sisters are already dressed for the evening when I make my way among you. You are pale, and quieter than you were last evening, but none of your sisters remark upon it. I follow you down the staircase, through the forest, and to another wondrous dance. I can tell you are watching for me, but none of your sisters join in the search. They and all the princes laugh and dance as usual. At midnight, you dine upon a feast of impossible delicacies, and though the conversation is steady and quick-witted, none of you makes the least mention of me or the secret I know.

As dawn nears, I take my place in the rear of the boat that you ride in with your prince. Tonight, it is he who comments on the unexpected weight of the boat he steers.

My heart stops. Now you will tell him of my spying, and since there are few places to hide in a small boat, like as not I will be pitched headlong into that bottomless lake.

Your answer lifts my heart like the arrival of the long-awaited dawn. You take up a second oar and say to your prince, "It feels light to me."

The wonder of your defense of me makes me love you more than ever. I all but float behind you as you make your way through the jeweled forests.

In the golden orchards, I stumble and snap off a branch. I hide it against my invisible clothes, just a moment before your sister Melody looks toward where I stand.

"What was that sound?" she asks in fright.

"Only an owl," you answer quickly.

Though you do not know it, you meet my eyes. I bow my head in thanks.

The next morning, the golden-spattered branch I place in your bouquet is a gift of thanks—and an expression of trust.

#

When you storm toward me in the gardens the next morning, the golden branch quivers in your iron grip.

"What is it you want?" you ask. "You won't take gold. Do you plan to win yourself a princess, garden boy?"

"I do not plan to take a wife," I say. "When I wed, it must be to a woman whose love is freely given."

"Then why did you follow us?"

"I had to know if I could trust you. I now know that I can." I pluck an ordinary blossom from a nearby rose bush. I focus on its petals so I do not have to take the daring step of meeting your gaze while I ask my more-daring question. "Why did you shield me? You could have betrayed me to your princes or your sisters a thousand times."

"This is between you and me alone. I saw no need to frighten them."

I nod, understanding, even as I fight a strange sense of disappointment. It is love for your sisters, not care for me, that leads you to keep my secret.

"Do you see need now?" I ask.

You examine me, and you look at the golden branch, and I can tell you are thinking of the events of the last two nights. "You do not merely hide yourself," you say. "You make yourself invisible. How?"

I could no more lie to you than tear out my own heart. "I made a wish, and it was granted me."

"By whom?"

"Rather, by what. Your garden holds a wishing tree."

You seize my wrist. “Show it to me.”

I stand firm. "Tell me, Princess Sonatina, if you found such a tree, would you suffer to let it live?"

"I should tear it out by the roots," you say, and I know it is true that you would do anything you thought necessary to guard your secret.

"Then although it pains me to disappoint you, I must refuse your request. The trees serve me because I serve them. I cannot repay their gifts by bringing about their destruction."

Your eyes flash. "You refuse your princess?"

I bow my head in apology. "Because it is my duty as a gardener to the king."

You release my wrist and pull away. You pace in frustration—back and forth, back and forth, your golden-brown curls wilder than ever. "There is nothing to prevent my finding it?"

"It is not concealed," I say.

"If it is fair for you to follow me to find our secret, it is only right that I can follow you to find yours."

"It is not my place to say otherwise."

You come to the garden every day after that—sometimes openly, sometimes skulking behind bushes or trees. Some days, I am sure, you watch from places I cannot see. But I do nothing save my ordinary gardening tasks, and I do not try to follow you at night. If I were the sort of man to make wishes for my own benefit, this would be the perfect way to make me use that gift against you. I love you more than ever because this does not occur to you—either you are too pure-hearted to suspect such villainy, or too trusting to imagine it in me.

Eventually, your constant watch breaks down the barriers between us, and you begin to speak to me. You ask me the names of the flowers I tend, and I tell you of the lilies that bloom by day and by night. The next day, you ask me about the blue flowers in your bouquet, and I tell you of the morning glories that make a gorgeous arch over the path you stand upon. In the days that follow, you pepper me with questions, wanting to know the names of every flower and bush and weed that grows in your father's gardens. And then, at last, one day, the name you ask to know is my own.

"I am called Michael Stargazer," I say, as I hand you a white bloom like a five-pointed star.

"Is it not your true name?"

"The first was written on a slip of paper in the basket where I was found upon a church's doorstep. The second was given to me for daydreaming too much."

You sit upon the edge of a fountain and stroke the petals of the flower. "It suits you," you say. "Michael the guardian."

"And the Stargazer who spends too much time dreaming of what is unreachable?" I ask, feeling the rebuke I deserve.

"No," you say—firmly, kindly. "The one who watches. So he can know what is true. And know what to do with his knowledge."

"You trust that I judge rightly?" I ask.

"I trust you," is all you say.

After that, you are with me in the gardens—not merely watching, but being, doing, helping. You wish to help the flowers grow, so I teach you of spades and trowels, watering cans and fertilizer, pruning and grafting and weeding. We start out hesitant—you uncertain of your tasks, I afraid to put a princess to work—but soon, you work with enthusiastic gusto, and I am glad to let you do what gives you joy.

Every night, you still wear through your dancing shoes, but yours are less ragged than the other eleven pairs, and you are wide awake with me in the gardens every morning. We talk while we work, but we do not even mention wishing trees or diamond groves or the music of enchanted palaces; there are too many other things to discuss in the sunlit world. You tell me of your sisters, of growing up royal, of books you've read and tutors you've teased. I tell you of the village where I was raised, of the dreams I had of one day meeting a princess—though I do not tell you that I've dreamed I will marry one.

One morning, in the height of summer, you are kneeling beside me, in a gown that you borrowed from a serving girl, wearing work gloves you borrowed from the gardener's shed. There are streaks of dirt on your face, and you smile at me in triumph as you dig up a bulb for transplanting.

In that moment, the sun shines full upon you, setting the gold and brown streaks of your hair alight. Suddenly, you are not an ethereal being, too high and fine for me to reach. You are here, with me, laboring in the Earth—and you glow with joy. It is not the blazing joy of your dances in the midnight palace—burning bright and fast and destructive. This joy is gentler, life-giving—like a hearth fire or a candle flame. It warms and nourishes, comforts and caresses. For the first time, I can picture you as a gardener's wife, laboring with me in a cottage, caring for our children, giving life to sons and daughters and helping me to make good things grow.

I nearly speak something of the joy in my own heart—but the words freeze on my tongue when I hear a laugh high above us.

Five of your sisters—Lyra and Cadence, Harmony and Melody, and in the center of them all, elegant, dark-haired Aria—stand on the other side of the flower bed, peering down at us.

"Is this where you sneak off to every morning, Tina?" Lyra laughs. "Grubbing in the dirt with the garden boy?"

You drop the bulb as though it burns you, desperately try to brush the dirt off your skirt, and back as far away from me as possible on the narrow path between flower beds. Your face burns bright red. "No," you stammer. "I was only..."

"What a charming couple you make," Aria sneers.

"You wouldn't have to leave us if you married him," Harmony laughs.

Her twin adds, "You could live in a cottage at the bottom of the park, and you could bring us our flowers every morning!"

"He is nothing!" you snarl at your sisters. You storm toward the palace, and you do not look back.

I do not see you for two days.

#

On the third day, you and your sisters return to the garden in the company of a prince—yet another who has taken up your father's impossible task. To spare you the horror of seeing me, I keep the white rose in my buttonhole and invisibly tend the wishing trees while you entertain the prince nearby.

Prince Ivan is sterner, more solemn than some of the others. Even I, a lowly gardener, have heard tales of his valor in battle. A thick saber-scar runs from his temple to his chin. He knows the danger he has placed himself in and faces it without flinching. There is something in his eyes that makes me think he welcomes it.

As I watch him, I wonder how he will fare in his quest. Will he reveal your secret or remain in the enchanted world with all the others? For the first time, I question the fate of those other princes. I have assumed they remained by choice, but in such a magical place, can first impressions ever be trusted? For their sake, as well as yours, I must follow you to the dance one more time.

When I reach your chamber in the evening, Prince Ivan is already among you. The twins, Melody and Harmony, focus on flattering him while your sisters tie on the last of their ribbons. His eyes, however, are for the dark-haired, sweet-tempered Princess Melisma. I think she does not dislike the attention.

As you descend the staircase—Melody and Harmony taking the lead with Prince Ivan—Princess Aria keeps Melisma at the end of the line.

"You mustn't encourage him," Aria says. "It might give him reason to follow us back home."

"He is so brave," Melisma says, "and so gentle. Would it be so terrible for me to have him as a husband?"

"If he weds you, he will take you to the Northlands, and we shall never see you again. Is that the life you want?"

Melisma blushes. "No," she whispers.

"Then let him drink," Aria says in a low tone. "He shall be here always, for you to dance with as much as you like. He will be the same brave and gentle prince, but will never take you away from us."

That night at the dance, there is a banquet in honor of the new guest. The tables pile high with delicacies I cannot name, and silent, ghostly servants keep your plates and goblets constantly filled. Prince Ivan looks younger, almost childlike, as he takes in the wonders, and his eyes have lost their haunted look.

"Such a wondrous place!" he breathlessly declares. "All beauty and joy! No sorrow, no politics, no battle."

Aria, seated at his right hand, plies him with red wine, and leads him to speak upon the war he won such honors in. He served with valor and is proud of protecting his people, but he has lost friends and brothers, is haunted by the fields strewn with the bodies of those who died too young.

"I should not speak of such things," Ivan says, putting down another empty goblet. "They are better forgotten."

"Do you not cherish some memories?" Aria asks.

"If I could forget every moment of it, I would," Ivan declares, "and stay always in this dance.

Aria smiles, then takes a golden goblet—the largest and most ornate in the room—from a servant standing at her shoulder. "You may do so," Aria says, "if you only drink this elixir. You shall have no regrets. No duties. No memories of battle. Only the beauties of this world."

Ivan looks to Melisma, seated at his left hand. She squeezes his scarred fingers in her long, delicate ones. "I shall come every night," she says softly.

Ivan takes the goblet from Aria's hand. His face holds the grim determination of a soldier, and the innocent bravery of a child hoping a bitter tonic will bring relief from pain. He drains the cup to its dregs.

When Aria takes the empty goblet, the prince is transformed. His eyes hold the same light of joy as all the other princes, but the honorable nobility of his bearing has drained away, leaving behind an empty imitation, all paper and gold leaf with nothing solid behind. For the rest of the night, he dances every dance with Princess Melisma. She is all joy when she looks in his face, but every time she turns away, she seems close to bursting into tears.

For the rest of the night, I cannot enter into the enchantment of the dance. I see only those princes, and wonder who they were before their will was drained away. I see your sisters dancing, each choosing one partner more than all others, and wonder if they too renounced marriage to someone they admired for the sake of this endless courtship. I travel across the lake in Aria's boat instead of yours, and as her prince hands her off to shore, I see even she seems on the point of asking him to come with her, before dropping his hand and turning resolutely to the diamond forest.

When you alight from your prince's boat, I see no similar love or regret in your eyes. At first I am relieved, and then my anger flares at your heartlessness. I snap off a diamond-spangled branch so fiercely that the sound of its breaking makes your every sister jump.

They glance in all directions, bewildered by the sound. You look directly toward me, your face burning with shame. Though I remain invisible, I know you feel me standing before you.

"What was that?" Melody shrieks in alarm.

"My guardian angel," is all you say, and though your sisters pelt you with questions all the way through the forests and up the staircase, you do not say another word.

When I leave your room, part of me wants to run to the king and tell all, but I cannot let judgment fall upon you without giving you a chance to speak for yourself. The diamond-spangled branch I place in your bouquet is both an accusation and an offer of parley.

You come to me—though you do not know it—when I am tending to the wishing trees, in the most secluded corner of the garden. "You have seen," you say.

"You have witnessed every one and said nothing. I want to know how you can defend yourself."

The innocent confusion in your eyes makes me repent of every crime I imputed to you. "What is there to defend?" you ask. "Every prince chooses to drink. We cannot deny them their choice."

"Do they know what it makes them?" I ask.

"If they do, they don't care," you say.

"Because they have been made incapable of caring for anything but the dance."

"Would you send Ivan back to his wars?" you ask. "Edmund to his awful father? Kristoff to his plague-filled land? They all have horrors they are escaping. It would be cruel to make them remember all the sorrows they were so desperate to forget."

The things that seemed so simple when I stood invisibly at your shoulder are more muddled now that you can look me clear in the face. There is one place in the world untouched by sorrow or strife—can I judge those who have fled for refuge there?

"You have had your wishes granted," you say softly. "Would you deny all of us ours?"

Looking into your innocent, imploring face, I find that I cannot. Your silence, I see now, is not heartlessness, but compassion. Loyalty to your sisters who wish to remain together. Pity for those princes who can find no other peace from their sorrows. There is no simple answer to the riddle that has entangled us all.

"Will you follow us again?" you ask.

"I do not know," I say. "Will you tell your sisters that I do?"

"I do not know," you say.

When you wander at last from the garden, your eyes—and thoughts—are far from me. This game has gone much further than any of us could have predicted. Any bond the two of us have built will break, I think, when pitted against the bond that you share with your sisters.

So that evening, when I pin the rose to my collar and invisibly slip into your room, I am not surprised to find that I am the topic of discussion. You are seated on a trunk in the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of glaring sisters.

"You knew all this time," Aria says, her voice low with anger, "and only now choose to tell us?"

"He vowed to keep the secret," you say. "He could do us no harm."

“Yet now you fear he will speak! He could destroy everything!”

“I told you when I thought you needed to know.”

Aria steps back and smooths her skirts and hair, becoming in one fluid motion the ever-composed crown princess. "There is only one thing we can do," she says. "We hand him over to the king’s justice. He has violated our royal persons by coming uninvited to our bedchamber. He will be hanged before the end of the week."

"No!" you shriek, jumping from your seat.

Your other sisters murmur in surprise—I cannot tell if more of it is directed toward you or Aria.

“There must be some other way,” says soft-hearted Allegra.

“Not if we wish to protect our secret," Aria says. "We have a world of perfection, an escape from all sorrows. We have twenty men who wish to stay there all their lives. We can’t endanger it for the sake of a presumptuous servant.”

You turn to Aria and say, “ He is not the first to know our secret. None of the other princes have had to die.”

Harmony says, "The garden boy is no prince."

Aria gazes thoughtfully at you. "Do you wish us to treat him as one? Let him present himself as a suitor for your hand?"

"I will not marry him,” you say, turning red.

"No one expects you to," Aria soothes. "But he can share the fate of the better-born. Let him dance and dine with us, then, at the end of the night, he will drink and forget there ever was a world above."

Your lips make a thin line, and your face goes white. “He would not like it.”

“Better than death, surely.”

You leave the circle of your sisters, tears in your eyes.

Aria follows you to where you gaze out the window. I could reach out and touch both of you. “Sonatina,” she says, soft and sweet as a mother. “I know you are fond of the garden boy. But you must be realistic. In this world, he can be nothing to you. You cannot marry a servant. He cannot marry a princess. Even friendship between you two can only be a scandal.”

Her words sink into my heart—cold, cruel, yet undeniably true. I have never dared to dream myself worthy of you—but there was, despite all, a small part of me that hoped for the impossible. Yet even if I could wish myself up a name and a title, it would not change who I truly was. Though I will love you to the end of my days, you can never love one such as me.

Aria’s voice becomes brighter, enticing. “But we have another world, where he can be whatever he wishes. You can dance with him every night without shame. You never have to face the impossible choice. You have him, and us, your title, your dances—forever.”

You gaze silently out the window. I stand at your side. I think of the world I would leave behind—the sunlight in the gardens, the wind and the rain and the wonderful flowers—in favor of that underground palace. I think of you laughing in the sun with dirt on your hands, and my wish that we could stay in that moment forever, ‘til death do us part.

It can never be anything more than a wish.

When you assent to your sister’s plan, my fate is sealed. I would risk all to give you the slightest joy. If it is your wish that I drink, I will drink—and gladly.

#

Your sisters come to me with their proposal, offering to present me to the king. They say nothing of their plan to give me the drink that will keep me forever in the dance. You, pale-faced at the rear of the crowd, say nothing at all. I say nothing of my presence at your midnight council. We are all trapped in the deafening silence of our secrets.

I accept their offer, but ask for time to prepare. Before I present myself at the palace, I make another trip to my faithful rose trees.

"Dress me as a prince," I beg. "Give me clothes fine enough to be seen in any royal court."

The second rose tree sprouts a crimson bloom, every petal as crisp as if cut by a tailor's scissors. When I place it in my buttonhole, my gardening clothes become a suit of black velvet, and a white-feathered cap appears upon my head.

As I stride toward the main doors of the palace, not one set of eyes knows me. Guards do not stop me as a presumptuous garden boy. I present myself before your father and he gives me all the respect due a prince.

When I rise from my bow of greeting, your eyes are riveted to my form. As I follow your father from the throne room, you stop me in the doorway with a hand upon my arm.

"Michael?" you ask, all amazed. "Can it truly be you?"

I bow my head—more garden boy than prince. "You need not be ashamed to be seen with me tonight."

Even so, you keep your distance. In the enchanted lake, I ride in a boat as Aria's guest, not yours. During the dance, your sisters all take their turns with me, from eldest to youngest. At last, I come to offer you my hand, but you seem reluctant to take it.

"Will you not dance with me, Princess Sonatina?" I ask.

"What need have you of my hand," you ask lightly, "when my sisters all treat you as a prince?"

"I want no hand but yours," I say.

You look down, your face drawn.

I bow over your hand and say softly, "Fear not, princess. You shall not be a gardener's wife."

I sweep you into the dance, and it is everything I could have dreamed. You are a wisp, a breath, a butterfly, moving at a touch, at a thought, stepping perfectly with my every unschooled motion. There is an energy between us, and at last you yield to it, looking deeply into my eyes.

In your gaze, I see the princess who I loved from a distance in the gardens, the companion who planted flowers at my side, the friend who defended me from her sisters' threats, and now a woman waiting to doom me to an eternal dance.

In this moment, such a fate does not seem a terror—it seems a gift. Here in this enchanted place, I am no gardener, no nameless, abandoned son. I can dwell here and see you night after night, as worthy as any man, if not to wed you, at least to take you in a dance, and know, if only for a moment, that I am the cause of your joy.

We whirl through the ballroom, through dance after dance after dance, neither able nor wishing to stop. After a time, all your sisters and their partners fall still, watching as we move in flawless harmony, our very heartbeats seeming to move in perfect time.

As the final dance draws to a close, you are silently weeping, tears in crystal rivers streaming down your face.

"Michael," you say. "After dinner—"

There is no need for you to speak what I already know. "Peace," I say. "All will be well."

At the dinner, your sisters flatter me, distracting me with delicacies and drink. Yet, they all seem restless, unsatisfied for once with this perfect palace and their empty-eyed princes.

At last Aria approaches with an ornate golden goblet.

"Garden boy," Aria says. "In the world above, you are a common laborer, unworthy even to gaze upon a princess. Here, you are an honored guest, who could dance with her every night should you choose. With this drink, you may stay here always, without the shame of your birth standing between you. Will you drink, Michael Stargazer, and forget all pain?"

I take the goblet between two work-hardened hands. The wine inside is clear as water and thick as blood. The scent intoxicates me, promising me endless joy in exchange for all memories.

There is much I loved in the world above—I love none of it so well as I love you. I close my eyes and set the cup to my lips.

There is a cry, and the cup is dashed from my hands. It crashes to the marble floor, and the wine oozes out in a thick mass.

Suddenly your arms are around my neck, and your face buried in my shoulder as you weep desperate tears.

"Michael, my love! Don't drink! I will love you beneath the open sky, in sun and rain and wind! I will be a gardener's wife! Let this castle crumble into dust! I would rather lose all the world than lose the man I love!”

My despair—though I did not know it by its true name until this moment—becomes hope, bright and dancing. I gather you in my arms and rain kisses upon your brow. It seems impossible that you love me, which makes it all the more wondrous to find it real.

Around us, the princes wake from their trance, and there is life in their gazes. They are men again, with minds and hearts, and the ones who served as boatmen each take one of your sisters in their arms. Your sisters—even Aria—cry with joy to see their restoration.

Suddenly, the ground shakes beneath us. Shards of colored glass and precious stones rain down from the castle walls.

“What is happening?” you cry.

I bend my head to kiss your brow, then look up at the castle. “You no longer wish for this world,” I say. “It cannot last.”

The other princes are already leading your sisters out the door, with Prince Ivan—Melisma at his side—taking charge of all. Each boatman leads one of your sisters to the water. They pile you into boats, and I help them arrange the transport, until you, your sisters, all the spare princes—and, least of all, myself—are safely across to the other shore.

We race through the forests—jeweled branches shattering as they fall—and clamber up the crumbling staircase. You and I are at the back of the line, hand in hand. As we stand at the base of the stairs, we look back at the crumbling palace, the destruction of a wondrous world of wishes.

“I am sorry,” I say, as the palace sinks into the black water of the lake.

You smile at me. “There is nothing to mourn.”

Laughing with joy, you tug my hand and lead me up the stairs.

#

In your moonlit bedroom, you and your sisters are as alive and beautiful as you once were in your mornings in the garden—moreso, because every eye is lit with love. Your sisters stand hand-in-hand with the princes who served as their boatmen. No longer empty revelers, they are men—noble, true, devoted—and overjoyed to be back in the world, despite its pain, rather than trapped in the never-ending dance.

Aria comes to us as we emerge from the staircase. She embraces each of us in turn, then closes and locks the wooden door behind us. The door disappears and becomes a blank stone wall once more. A low roar sounds as the tunnel and its staircase crumble.

“It is gone,” Aria says, "and good riddance.”

We gaze at her in astonishment, shocked to hear those words coming from the one who had been the greatest defender of the dance.

“I lost myself in wishes,” she says, “but I have found the truth again.” She takes the hand of her boatman—a dark man with kind eyes who reigns as prince of a far-southern realm. “I feared the future because I feared change. I thought the dance could keep us together—young and careless forever. Blinded by enchantments, I could not see that I kept us all from the possibility of a better world. You saved all of us.”

Your sister embraces you, and then—one of the night’s most astonishing sights—the crown princess of one of the greatest nations in the world kneels before a garden boy and bows over his dirt-stained hand.

You all ask for forgiveness, but there is nothing to forgive. All your princes—even myself—fell to the despair that kept them in the dance. We can forget the dance and its soulless wonders and return to the real, bright world.

But first, we must tell your father.

#

You all agree that the honor of revealing the secret should fall to me. You give me the three branches I placed in your bouquets, and at first light, still dressed in my princely clothes, I ask for an audience with the king.

Your father needs little convincing to believe my tale—with so many witnesses, and so many lost princes standing before him, there is little room for doubt.

“You have solved the mystery, Michael Stargazer,” the king says, “and have earned the offered prize. Which of my daughters will you have to wife?”

Stepping before all the assembled royalty, I say, “Majesty, I do not wish for a wife that I claim as a prize. I will only take the wife who chooses me freely, with all her heart and mind.”

In the moment of silence that follows, the glimmer of doubt reappears. You declared your love for me in that unreal underground kingdom, but can you do the same in the sunlit world, where your words have real and eternal consequences?

In that dawn-lit room, before all your sisters, your father, and twenty foreign princes, you come to my side and place your hand in mine. “I will be your wife, Michael Stargazer, with all my heart, mind, body and soul, until the end of my days.”

I answer with a kiss upon your brow. “I give you the same, and all my worldly goods, if you will join me in a cottage in the gardens.”

“There’s no need for that,” your father says. “You have helped to save the royal sons of more than fifteen kingdoms. No one would question your right to a title after such service. I can make you a prince, and you and my daughter can have a royal estate as a wedding present.”

After that is a day of rejoicing, your sisters and their princes all celebrating their restoration and my elevation. But before sunset, you and I slip away to the gardens, where I at last show you the two little rose trees that made all of this possible.

“They are beautiful,” you say.

“They have brought me all I could desire,” I say, “but I have one last wish to make.”

In answer to my whispered words, a pink rose blooms on the smallest bush, with a lady’s ring—twined gold and silver, with a diamond at its center—sitting at its heart.

I kneel before you and place it upon your finger. With your ringed hand, you raise me to my feet and pull me into a kiss.

The rose trees are transplanted to a place of honor in the gardens of our new home. You and I tend to them every day, but since we’ve had our three wishes, they grow only ordinary roses.

I am glad.

With you as my wife in such a glorious world, what further need have I of wishes?

[mintybloomz]

were there times where hazel accidently used magic at home/school/basically any other place she probably shouldnt?

Oh absolutely! In fact, a fairy child's magic is still a bit unstable. Intense emotions can cause bursts of magical energy, like they did for Peri when he was a baby!

Let's just hope Winn and Jasmine keep their eyes closed until the magic flowers are gone.

Fairy Bound AU: [Start] > [Previous] > [You are here]

[paperdolles198art]

Bunnies who love sweets and bunnies who die and get revived the next day

[maniakmonkey]

Warmup drawing of Rush that I was really happy with so I decided to lineart and color it.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Whooooo could have predicted this?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[aekatty]

melt my heart ₊˚ʚ 🧊 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

a/n: i have a hard time finding unique words to add into my writing, it honestly sucks. also, gonna try to get jjk stuff out if i can.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

!! series !!

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: aphrodisiac fruit, flicking da bean, female anatomy/pronouns, f!receiving, gray a freaky dom, reader subby but it’s ok, degradation..

tags ✮⋆˙  afab!reader x gray, enemies to lovers, smut, angst

now playing: wild thoughts - dj khaled, rihanna & bryson tiller

❅ chapter 2: wild thoughts ❅

You pondered by the window, watching as the trees and and fields blurred from the speed of the train. You could feel a pit in your stomach as you thought about the idea of going on a quest with the ice wizard. Usually, you teamed up with Natsu and Happy when doing jobs, but with the both of them out the guild at this moment, you had to take the low blow by temporarily teaming up with Gray Fullbuster. Nonetheless, it was only one job and after that, it’s back to becoming enemies again. Plus, you’re desperate for money.

You halted your daydreaming as you looked down at the job flyer, studying it's contents, especially the hefty reward. You calculated how you could split it into 50/50 with your fingers before you hear a slight chuckle. As you looked up, you noticed Gray smirking at you, his white jacket drapped over the velvet seats as his legs were shifted into a man-spread.

"Man, I just wanna get this job over with so I can go back to napping," he laid his head upon his hand as he stared upon the sceneic view of the passing greenery.

You sighed, "Trust me, I'm in the same boat. If we wanna finish this in time, we're gonna have to work together."

He chuckled at your response, "Say, [Name], why do you hate me so much? You've always had it out for me since we were kids."

You stayed silent at his question. Your hatred for Gray had multiple layers to it that it was simply too much to unveil to well...him. Every time you see his face, all you could think about is the moment you saw his master giving up her life to save the shirtless idiot. If you were in his shoes, you would've never dared to face the ruthless demon known as Deliora, and she would've been alive today. A hasty idiot who let his own master die, how could you not hate him?

"...You just left a bad impression on me, plus I hate your face," you go back to inspecting the flyer.

He hissed at your words, "So you're basically just mad at me for nothing?!"

"Look, can you save the hostility for the battlefield, or the very least, after we're done with the mission?" You rolled your eyes.

He growled at your response before going back to his original position, his body slumped onto the seat, "Whatever, witch..."

You both decided it was best to stay silent for the rest of the train ride...

----

After an hour of constantly passing the same scenery, you both finally made it to the destination. You both stretched out your ligaments after sitting in a cramped section for a long period of time.

"Man, I forgot how excruciating train rides are," the ice mage yawned as he twisted his body. Your eyes lingered a little long at his lean body, abs toned and chisled as he turned and stretched his body, as expected for a man who's constantly fighting with raw strength, it would make sense why he's built like that. Before your eyes could land on his chest, you diverted your eyes.

You cleared your throat to excuse the slight red hue on your cheeks, "Gray, where are your clothes?"

He arche his brow in confusion before looking down to see that he's now in his boxers, "Dammit! This happens every time!"

You snickered, "Can you keep the stripping to a minimum, not tryna get arrested before completing the mission." Your attempts to hold your amusment failed as you bursted out into laughter, wiping your tears in the process.

He felt his cheeks burn at your reaction to his annoying habit, it was clear you were doing this on purpose to embarrass him, "Oh shut up, lava witch! If you had this habit, it wouldn't be funny would it?!"

"Ugh! The name is getting old y'know. At least have some diversity in your insults, popsicle brain," you flicked his nose.

He grumbled as he rubbed his nose, "Lava witch..."

After leaving the station, you followed the path of the map provided by the back of the flyer. It required taking a long wooden stair path to reach the village as it wrapped around the volcano. The more you progressed on the path, the more the air started to become warmer. Humid had turned into hot, not that it really affected you as you were used to high temperatures from your lava magic. However, the ice mage seemed to be the opposite as his movements became sluggish and his body became drenched in sweat; in fact, his sweat alone can fill a bathtub.

"Hurry up, we don't got all day!" You yelled in frustration, watching him barely drag his feet as he continued struggling to step on the wooden stairs.

"Dammit, [Name], are you sure this is the right direction?! My clothes feel like they're about to melt!" He retaliated back as he continued taking baby steps along the shabby stairs.

You rolled your eyes, "You’re not even wearing clothes to begin with, and can’t you just use your ice magic to cool yourself off?!"

He groaned, "I'm tryna save my magic energy, you heat freakazoid!”

“See, I would normally be annoyed at your weird nicknames for me but they’re so painfully bad and uncreative that it makes me feel better about myself!” You yell from the top.

He growled before looking up at you, “Can you quit the bickering and help me up?! I feel like I’m gonna pass out!” You swore you saw his soul leave out of his body as he went limp on the next step.

You facepalmed before walking down the stairs to retrieve your ice companion, “I think i’ve found another reason to be pissed off at you…” You wrap his arm around your neck before using all your might to carry a napping Gray.

“Thank God I took up those endurance training sessions with Erza…” You huffed as you continued to carry the heavy man on your shoulders.

————

You finally made it to the top of the stairs before dropping the ice wizard onto the ground, catching your breath in the process.

“Good, God! Are you really that intolerable to the heat?!” You panted as you pressed your palms on your kneecaps.

“I was trained for snowstorms not volcanic eruptions!” He slowly got up, his legs wobbling like a newborn giraffe.

You grunted, “Whatever, let’s just get this stupid job over with before I throw myself in lava.” You dust off the dirt on your shirt before walking towards the village.

The village had a reddish-orange aesthetic to it, the buildings made out of clay and stone, and the village folks wore different colored garments. Very maximalist. Magnolia was already a fashionable city in itself but seeing everyone dripped in jewelry and stylish garments puts those weekly sorcerer models to shame. You could say, it was a fresh breath of air seeing a whole other aesthetic than just your average crop tops and bootcut jeans.

“You don’t look like you’re from this area. Are you perhaps tourists? Ooo, maybe you’re here for a honeymoon,” an old woman approached the both of you; Judging by her clothing and appearance, she looks to be a local.

You quickly nod your head, “Uh- no, no. We’re not married!” You cleared your throat from the awkward moment the woman created between you and Gray. You felt your ears slightly blush from the embarrassment.

“Ahh, boyfriend and girlfriend.“

“Yea…no.”

“Talking stage?”

“No..”

“Your crush.”

“Nope.”

“Situationship?”

“Isn’t that just the talking stage?”

“Ahh, lemme guess. Exes to lovers,” she nods in assurance.

“That would mean I’d have to date this idiot, which is neverrr…” You crossed arms before blowing a piece of hair out of your face.

“I could never date her, just being near her pisses me off!” Like you, he crossed his arms, his biceps and abs still glistening from sweat.

The woman ogled Gray’s shirtless torso for a bit before shaking her head to snap out of her trance, “Anyways, why come here when you’re not here to ‘get it on’ like most tourists who come here.” She jokingly does an inappropriate gesture which obviously made the both of you uncomfortable.

Your lack of research and knowledge on this place was starting to become more prominent, you never knew the village was a known tourist spot for couples or newly weds. You were too caught up with getting the job done in a hasty manner, you didn’t bother to look the place up before leaving. Not really a good thing, but oh well...

Before you could blurt out a word, Gray interrupts you, “We saw your ‘help wanted’ poster about the volcano erupting.” He wipes the sweat off his forehead with his shirt in-hand.

“…Yeah, what he said.”

The old woman’s face lit up hearing Gray’s words about taking up the job, “Oh! You must be from Fairy Tail! Yes, yes, we’ve had growing concerns about recent volcanic activity and we could really use some help to y'know...keep the volcano in check."

"Well, that's why we're here to help," you smiled awkwardly before nudging Gray's arm.

"Oh- Uh yeah, right," he rubbed the back of his head, still supporting that grumpy nonchalant face he usually has.

She smiles back, "Oh, where are my manners, I'm the village healer! So nice to meet you! And you are...?"

"Um, I'm [Name] and this is my p-partner, Gray," you stuttered at the mention of calling Gray your partner. He was still wiping the sweat off his body and fanning himself before shooting a small wave at the lady.

"You good, bro?" Your voice hinting with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just hate hot temperatures," still wiping the sweat dripping down his face and torso.

"Ohhh looking fine indeed, Gray," she started drooling at the sight of his muscular body, the rays hitting his abs perfectly to capture the glistening sweat coating them.

"Uh...what-"

"NOTHING!" She shakes her head before clearing her throat, "Anyways, about the volcano..."

----

You both listen intently on the old woman's words as she went in-depth about the situation. It seems that there have been reports of magma spillage that had been the cause of a few buildings to get destroyed. Unfortunately, none of the villagers practice ice magic as most of them adapted to honing lava magi-

"Wait hold on, then why send me and Gray on a mission together when it seems like everyone is this village specializes in lava magic?"

"I mean to be honest, we only requested an ice wizard for the job."

You bit your nail as you went into deep thinking, "Then, why did Mira- OH." You felt your eye twitch before snatching the paper from Gray's hands.

"The hell was that for-"

"SHUSH!" You stuck your pointer finger at him while inspecting the flyer again.

As you scanned between the lines of the paper, you noticed a small change added to the requirements section.

"LOOKING FOR ICE WIZARD"

It seems like someone (you already knew it was Mira) scribbled a little edit onto the 'requirements section' -- "and a lava wizard!!"

You throw the paper on the ground before glaring at Gray. "WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?!" You then pick up the paper before walking towards the village without saying a word.

"So about your relationship with her..."

"Please stop talking..." He facepalmed.

----

While walking around the village, your eye catches the marketplace. There were a variety of stalls for you to look at: from selling exotic jewelry to strangely-shaped fruits, it was like entering a new world to you. Very reminiscent to the first time you landed at Magnolia... You were practically ogling at the sight of all the glittery trinkets and clothing laid out on the tables, imagining yourself wearing such intricate outfits.

Though villagers made it very clear that you were an outsider as they ran up to you, constantly shoving their products in your face in hopes that you buy it. You politely declined all their offers as you wanted to budget the cost of the motel and-

"Oh sweet Jesus..." At the corner of your eye, you notice a beautifully crafted dress singularly laid out on the table, as if it was beckoning for your call. It had individual gems sewed onto it, dark-red fabric with black lace to give it an elegant yet fierce looks to it. You also eyed the jewelry and accessories that would pair well with the dress.

"HOW MUCH FOR EVERYTHING?!" Your booming voice startled the poor vendor...

---

"[Name]! Where are you?!" He called out for your name in hopes of finding you around the village square. It had been 20 minutes since you ran off, the ice mage had become frustrated with your sudden absence. He groaned under his breath, "Dammit, this girl is so difficult, it pisses me off. It doesn't help that the heat here is so unbearable!"

"Gray! I finally found you!" You run towards him.

He tiredly sighed, "Thank god, I was worried-"

His eyes widen at the amount of bags you were holding, it looked as if they were about to fall off the straps at any moment from the weight of the luxurious goods you acquired.

"How much did you spend on all that..." He questioned you with concern.

"Price is just a number, cunt stays forever," you sassily flipped your hair. You look down at your bags, staring at the shiny jewels peeking out the bags.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before looking at you again, "Look, you wanna finish this mission in a timely manner, right? Then, let's get going already."

You stood there silently for a moment before speaking, "Ah fuck, you're right." You dust off the dirt on your legs before grabbing the shopping bags along with you, "Hope you don't mind, but I had to borrow a few jewels from you."

He stares at you in confusion before feeling around his pockets, "Since when did you take my wallet?!"

You deviously smiled to yourself while your back faced him, not even bothering to answer his question...

---

It had already been a long, tiring 7 hours of studying the lava’s behavior while creating strategies for Gray to cool down the hot magma. You did your best to assist Gray by meticulously bending the molten rock in hopes that it would calm down while Gray focused on cooling it down. It took trial and error to perfect the best strategy while having to beat both you and Gray’s depleting magic energy. The volcano was huge and it didn’t help that it was the two of you taking care of the problem.

As the night time hit, you saw the glowing orange start to dim as the lava reverted down to its original “sleeping form.” You felt a wave of relief as watched the molten rock solidified, wiping the sweat off your face from the strenuous job.

“We did it, oh my god! Finally!” You jumped up and down in excitement before hugging Gray. His eyes widened at your sudden reaction, the feeling of his racing heartbeat echoed in his ears as he felt your breath nearing his neck.

You opened your eyes, realizing what you had done before pushing yourself off him and slowly back away from. You awkwardly scratched the back of your ears before clearing the imaginary lump in your throat, “Sorry, that was out of habit. I usually hug Natsu and-”

After hearing your words, he snapped out of his trance before clearing his throat as well, “What? Oh yeah, I don’t care. I was mostly focusing on the hefty reward that will be getting soon.” He stretched his arms before yawning, hoping to cut the awkward tension.

“OH, yes! We should tell the village healer about finishing the job and then we can go straight home and then go back to being good ol’ enemies,” you awkwardly laughed before swiftly turning the other way to walk towards the village area.

“Aha..yea…” He followed behind you.

As you both walk down towards the village square, a hoard of villagers crowd around the both of you, thank you for preventing their village from becoming another Pompeii. They gratefully shook your hands while handing you small trinkets as a token of their appreciation for the effort you both put into the job.

The both of you smiled and greeted all of them before an old man with a fancy headpiece while carrying a walking cane approached the two of you. You bit the inside of your lips as you waited for the man to speak, “H-hello.”

He stood there silently before smiling, “Ah, I see you both prevented the eruption of the volcano. Well done I must say!”

Everyone started clapping while they whistled and yelled your names out in celebration. You shyly chuckled at his response, “Well, it would’ve been a shame if this beautiful village burnt down to molten rock.”

He grinned before correcting himself, “Where are my manners? I’m the chief of the village and I wanted to personally come down to thank the two of you for doing us a big favor by saving our village and conquering that volcano!”

“Aw come on, chief, we’re just doing our job,” he scratched the back of his head.

“No, no! In fact, we wanted to host a big feast for the two of you! Come, come!” He gestured to the both of you.

“Oh, but we gotta get home-”

He laughed, “My dear, it’s so late. I’ll let you stay overnight for free at one of our popular hotels here!”

You and Gray looked at eachother for a moment for sighing, “Well, I guess we can’t say no to that…” You awkwardly laughed as you fidgeted with your hair.

“Oh, wonderful! Our chefs have made the best dishes to treat our lovely heroes!” He excitedly grinned at you both for skipping towards the buffet table.

You sighed in defeat, you were tired, sore, and ready to plop onto bed but nonetheless, it didn’t hurt to accept their gratitude. The people were genuinely kind to the both of you, so it didn’t hurt for you to stay for a bit out of politeness.

Gray chuckled, “Man, after all that work we did the whole day, it wouldn’t hurt to feast a bit.” He patted your back before passing by you to sit down at the dinner table.

You stood there hesitant for a moment before shrugging it off before following behind him. You pulled a chair next to Gray, his focus shifting towards your sudden presence as you stared upon the giant platters of food laid out for everyone.

“Ahh, I’m so glad for the both of you to join us! Eat all you want, this is your celebration after all!” The chief laughed before munching on a turkey leg.

You smiled at his gesture before grabbing a few pieces of from the giant platters laid out on the table.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed the village girls attempting to get “friendly” with Gray. Pressing their chests along his arm, complimenting his physique, even tracing the outline of his abs through his compression shirt. It was very clear that Gray was a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable with the attention that he was getting to the point your can tell he was trying to cover the blush on his face while dismissing all their advances.

“Y’know, whatcha did for us back there was so brave of you.” A flirtatious tone in her voice, hugging onto his arm with her cleavage.

He turned his head to avoid the sight of her large breasts pressed onto him, “O-Oh, yeah it was no problem! Y’know, I couldn’t have done it without-”

“Wow! Your muscles are like…so huge. You must really take care of your body,” another girl was squeezing his other bicep while biting her lip.

He laughed awkwardly, “I do a lot of missions like these so it’s like i’m constantly exercising.” He slowly picked at the food on his plate despite the girl still stroking his arm.

“Hey, sexy, how about we ditch the dinner and we show you a great time in private,” a third girl behind him winked as she traced her finger along his shoulders and chest.

Before he could speak up, you slammed your cup onto the table hard enough to grab the girls’ attention, “Heyyy, I’m not feeling too good. I think I drank a lil too much.” You grabbed Gray’s shoulder, “Hey, partner, how bout’ you do me a favor hold my hair up while I barf in the alley, aight?” Your words slurred in the process.

He stated at you confused for a second before realizing your true motive, “O-Oh yeah! I gotchu!”

He ‘helps’ you stand up as you pretend to wobble around in a drunken state, giggling hysterically as you wrapped your arms around him. The girls scoffed as they watched you get taken by Gray to a secluded empty alley.

After you guys were out of their line of view, you quickly shoved Gray off you, “Ugh, Im never doing that again.”

You brushed yourself off before facing him again. He stood by the wall, arms crossed while trying to maintain his ‘cool’ composure, though, the light blush on his cheeks and ears say otherwise.

“Y’know it’s kinda goofy when you try to be a tough sometimes,” you snickered.

He scoffed at your words, before looking towards you with a softer look. He cleared his throat, “Thanks for that, [Name]. I was actually glad you got me outta there.” He covered the lower half of his face to hide the remaining blush from the incident.

Your demeanor changed seeing him become more somber with you. You couldn’t pinpoint it but you surprisingly didn’t hate it. Usually, being around him for more than a minute would’ve turned into full-blown physical fight. Yet, you both stood there, no hair pulling or anything. For the first time in years, it felt kind of nice not arguing with Gray over something petty.

You shook your head to break your trance before clearing your throat, “Yeah, I felt kind of bad for you so I wanted to save you. Plus, their presence was ruining my appetite.” You rubbed the back of your neck while avoiding eye contact with him.

“You better not tell anyone or else i’m gonna fucking kill you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah whatever, lava witch.”

“Shut up.”

You both went silent again, only the sound of laughing and talking in the distance.

“…Should we get back to the dinner or…?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m craving dessert right now!”

You both head back to the table, returning to your seats before the server approached the both of you with slices of an orange-colored fruit.

“Never seen this typa fruit before,” he inspected it with his fork.

Suddenly, the old village healer stood behind you, startling you in the process, “That’s a special fruit that only grows near the volcano! It’s a delicacy in our village actually.”

“I’ve read about certain fruits being able to grow near volcanoes but I’ve surprisingly never seen this one before,” you continued to eye the juicy fruit.

“That’s because it only grows around this volcano specifically! We do sometimes ship it out to other countries but it’s only found at certain shops.”

You stared at it before taking a nibble at it, “Wow! This is actually pretty good!” You picked up another fruit slice, savoring its sweet soft flavor.

Gray watched you before following the same action as you, “Holy crap, It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven.” He continued to stuff his mouth with the fruit.

You both eventually cleaned out your plates and set it aside for the waiters to pick it up.

Gray yawned, “Man, i’m getting sleepy. How bout’ showing us that hotel the chief promised us.”

The old lady giggles, “Oh yes, right this way.” She gestured for the both of you to follow her.

As you walk past the village square, Gray notices a small alley way full of women wearing skimpy outfits and shiny jewelry. All of them staring at him as they tease him with skirt lifts and unzipping a part of their shirts.

“Over here, sexy!”

“Come over here and we’ll show you a good time~”

“How bout’ you ditch that girl and get with a real woman~”

He felt his cheeks heat up before looking away in embarrassment before whispering to you, “All these girls keep flirting with me, it’s so weird,”

“I know, you’re so ugly,” You said with a nonchalant tone.

“STOP CALLING ME UGLY!”

“WELL, HOW ABOUT YOU STOP BEING UGLY!”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!”

“MAYBE IF YOU STOPPED STRIPPING IN PUBLIC-“

“I TOLD YOU, ITS INVOLUNTARY!”

Suddenly, you felt a sharp pain on your cheek, you felt around the area of impact as it continued to linger there. A red handprint. planted on your face. You turned towards Gray to see he also had the same handprint on his face as well, his face scrunched from the pain.

“Quit bickering already! You sound like an old married couple!”

“Did you really have to slap the both of us?!”

“For real! You could’ve just yelled at us to stop!”

She sighed, “I did but you both wouldn’t listen to me!” She continued walking towards the hotel, “Save it for the bedroom at least?”

“For the last time, we’re not a couple!”

“Hey, you never know,” she shrugged with a smirk on her face.

You and Gray groan in annoyance as you continued to follow the woman’s lead.

Eventually, you make it to the hotel before the old lady gives her ‘goodbye’s’ to you both. You shared your thanks before waving your fair wells to her. She leaves the two of you in the lobby before a lobby boy approaches the both of you, “Hello, i’m here to escort you both to your room.” You both greet him before following him around the hotel.

“There better be two beds,” you whisper to Gray.

“And if there isn’t?” He whispered back.

“Then, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Ah, damn...”

The lobby boy turned to the both of you, “Is something the matter?”

“Nah, [Name] was just telling me how she wants to hurry to the room already cause’ she got some diarrhea to unload.”

“NO I DID NO-”

“Yeah, you better hurry if you want to keep your precious red carpets clean.”

“GRAY, IM GONNA KIL-”

The lobby boy let out a soft gasp, “Oh my, we don’t want that do we? In that case, I’ll make this trip quick.”The lobby boy quickly pushed the button, tapping his foot as he nervously waited for the elevator.

With his back turned away, you glared back at Gray, you can tell he’s trying his best to hold in his laughter at the immediate reaction to his lie.

“I’m so gonna kill you when we get back to the guild…”

“Hey, you’ve been ragging on me this whole trip. Lemme have my moment to shine.”

“YOU COULD’VE CHOSEN ANYTHING BUT DIARRHEA??”

“Oh, come on. You’ll live.”

“Well, now I want to die!”

After the excruciatingly 20 second elevator trip, the lobby leads you both to your suite. He takes out a golden key before opening the door, the room was decorated to the brim with gold and white, an elegant look to it. Though, what caught your eye was the singular queen sized bed…

Your jaw dropped at the single bed, “Ahaha, this must be a mistake. I thought it was two beds.”

The boy arched his brow at you, “The chief specifically told us to reserve a single bed suite for the both of you. He thought that you guys would like to have some time alone together during your stay.”

You felt your eye twitch, “Did he think that me and Gray…”

“You guys are a couple, are you not?”

“UM, no?? If anything, we were forced on this job together!” You felt your heart pounding from the adrenaline.

“And I don’t want to share a bed with the lava troll!”

The lobby boy sighed, “I’m apologize for the inconvenience but unfortunately i’m not authorized to switch rooms for you both as all the rooms are completely filled up this weekend.”

“Fucking holidays…” Gray mumbled under his breath.

You sighed before facing towards the boy again, you gave him a crooked smile, “It’s fine, we can figure it out. But we thank the village chief for allowing us to stay at one of your finest hotels."

The lobby boy apologized profusely before handing you the key and closing the door for the both of you.

You both dropped your bags as you sat down on the edge of the bed, distressed about the possibility of having to share a bed together.

————

Awkward. Silent. The sound of the clock ticking as time passed by at a slow rate. You appreciated the chief’s generous actions but the thought of sharing a bed with emo Jack Frost has been eating you up the entire time. But hey, it’s only for one night. What’s the worse that can happen?

“Uh, you don’t mind if I shower first, right? I wanna get this volcano ash off me.”

You sighed, “Yeah, sure, whatever..” You rubbed your temples, attempting to get rid of your stress.

“Come on, [Name]. One night isn’t gonna hurt. We’re gonna have to put aside our rivalry for just this time and then we can go back to beating eachother up once we get back to the guild.” He softly sighed as he grabbed one of the complimentary towels from the bathroom rack.

“Ok, well, it’s not just because we’re rivals but it’s also because your- well- a man! Plus, you have a bad stripping problem!”

“Ugh, fine, I promise I won’t take off all my clothes when we go to sleep…even though I prefer sleeping naked.”

“Gross! Don’t admit that!” You throw a pillow at him which he deflects.

He snickered, “Joking, I’m gonna shower now.”

You stick your tongue out at he closes the bathroom door, the sound of rushing water followed after. You decided to look around the room while you waited for popsicle boy, the room was spacious which went beyond comfort for you personally. A free suite? Now, who would pass that up? You were also hoping to find some extra clothes you could wear for the night. You didn’t plan on staying overnight in the village so unfortunately, you had no extra pajamas you could change into.

You looked in the closet to find a two pairs of white pajamas, “Sweet.” As you grabbed a pair, you felt a tingle up your spine. At first, you passed it off as just a normal bodily function until you suddenly felt your body temperature start to increase. Blood started pooling in your cheeks, tinting your cheeks red as if you just came back from a hot sunny day at the beach.

“What the hell is happening? Why does my body feel like it’s over heating…”

You collapsed onto the ground, your legs weak like a newborn fawn learning how to walk. You could feel beads of sweat dripping down your forehead, your breathing becoming heavier.

“Oh god, what if I ate something that I was secretly allergic to at the dinner? I never get hot, i’m a lava wizard for christ’s sake!” You whined as you shaking wiped your burning forehead.

You slowly lifted your head to stare at the body mirror: your face was beet red, sweat had started to form profusely to the point your clothes started feeling sticky, your hands couldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard you tried to control it.

Suddenly, the sound of pattering water had come to a halt, only drips of water had echoed behind the door to the bathroom.

You cursed at yourself as you attempted to grab the tissues on the bedside table, wiping the sweat off your face and body. You felt your adrenaline rush as you sat down, attempting to gain your composure before Gray could open the door.

The sound of the door knob being twisted before the door swung backwards, there stood a shirtless Gray. Your eyes lingered at his still dripping wet abs, toned and chiseled, an obvious sign that the ice wizard works out in his free time. The Fairy Tail emblem tattooed on his right pectoral, and a silver cross chain necklace to go along with his ‘cool bad boy look.’ Dear God, you could not stop staring at how huge his pecs were, like two pillows (would put those D-cups to shame). Your eyes trailed down to his protruding v-line, smooth and hairless. The towel covering up the place that is not for YOUR eyes to see. It didn’t help that his damp raven black hair was in a sexy pushback.

You felt your heart race as you saw the ice mage stand there in nothing but a towel. So many dirty thoughts pooled into your head at the sight of seeing him. You squeezed your eyes shut before looking away, your face was already red as it was but seeing Gray out the bathroom made your reaction even worse.

“O-Oh my- Gray, can’t you put on some clothes!”You still had your eyes tight shut.

“You see, that’s the problem. I realized that I didn’t bring any clothes so-”

“Cover up for God’s sake, you couldn’t have some decency to put on a shirt?! Have some decorum!” You stuck your hands out in front of your face to hide the raging blush on your cheeks.

He scoffed at your reaction, “Why’re you making it such a big deal? You’re acting as if you hadn’t seen me shirtless multiple times.”

You couldn’t properly answer, you just turned your head away from as you mumbled to yourself.

His face twisted from confusion to concern as he slowly crouched down to your level, gently grabbing your face. He could already feel the burning sensation from your increased body heat, “Jesus, you got a fever or something? Why’s your face so hot? And your face is so red!”

He slowly turned your face, his eyes widened by your tomato-colored face, sweat still dripping down your face as your breathing was still erratic.

He noticed your timid actions, the way you fidgeted with your hands and hair while attempting You still had your eyes tight shut. to avoid eye contact with him. He cleared his throat before calling out your name, “Uh, [Name]?”

“Huh? What do you want?” You scrunched your brows in confusion, a bead of sweat dripped down your face.

“You look like you’re about to melt into a puddle of water.”

You swipe your forehead to feel the moisture in your hand, “It’s just hot right now.”

“Thought you never get hot in humid conditions. Plus, it’s gotten cooler since night fall.” He gently laid the back of his hand on your forehead and cheek.

You whinced at his touch, you couldn’t explain it but it made you kind of nervous, hell, even embarrassed. You felt like a crushing school girl, the way Gray was gently caressing your cheek, his close presence next to you was making you feel some type of way towards him. A part of you was trying to deny that it was probably just your weird ‘allergic’ reaction making you feel delusional. Yet, another part of you couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased with the way Gray was acting towards you despite your hatred for the ice wizard.

“I’ll cool you down with my ice powers, alright?”

You nodded back in assurance, your heart still racing from the closed distance between you and Gray.

He sighed before using his ice magic to cool down your rising body temperature. Immediately, you felt some type of relief at the chilliness, you sighed as you felt your uncomfortableness start to fade away. His expression had become more relaxed at your noticeable reaction, “Better?”

Although, the ‘feverish’ feeling had went away, your heart still pounded at the sight of your icy rival. You tightly clutched your fists as you felt a wave of need start to pool below your belt. Oh God, what is this feeling?

All you could think about was how much you wanted him to rip away at your shirt as you watch the towel on waist slide down, revealing the end of his defined v-line. You felt so dirty. In all the years you’ve known Gray, you’ve hated his guts with a deep burning passion. Ok…maybe it was more of jealousy but of course, you would never admit that.

He was just some snarky annoying stripper who always said the right things to rile you up. Just seeing his face made you want to turn it into a punching bag.

Yet, here you are: squeezing your thighs as you ached to stimulate the neediness between your legs.

“Gray,” your voice hushed but loud enough for him to hear.

“Uh, yeah what’s up?” He questioned you, still confused about your strange behavior.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you mumbled under your breath.

He arched his brow at your statement, “Doing what?”

You grabbed the sides of his face before pressing your lips onto his. He let out a surprised noise, muffled from your suffocating kiss. You quickly unlatched your lips from his, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“D-Did you just…” He stuttered, a deep red dusted on his cheeks from your initial reaction.

You wiped your lips before turning away in embarrassment, “Oh god, what have I done?! I just kissed you!”

His heart started to beat faster than ever. Not too long ago, you were ragging on him for embarrassing you in front of the lobby boy. Next thing he knew, you started kissing him out of nowhere!

“Why did you do that?” His face turning a bright red.

“I don’t know?! I just- fuck! Seeing you in that towel is making me feel weird!” You covered your face in shame.

He couldn’t deny it, he did have some tiny attraction for you but passed it off as physical attraction. Not to mention, feistiness was kind of a turn on for him. There were times you would get into a fight/argument with him, just for him to get back home and jerk off while replaying it in his head. As much as he disliked your behavior towards him, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you somehow. He always liked your reactions when he teased you.

He smirked, “Well, it’s not like I’m hating, princess.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, “E-Excuse me?”

He got close to your face, the feeling of breath hitting your lips, “I wouldn’t mind letting you slide this towel off me.” His lips landed on yours, his tongue parting your lips forcefully as it intertwined with yours. You let out a soft moan as you melted into the sensation of his lips. Before you could reach for the towel on his waist, you break off the heated kiss.

“Oh god, I just kissed you…again!” You pushed yourself off him.

He rolled his eyes before pulling your arm, dragging you towards him. He whispered sensually in your ear, “And we both liked it.”

You felt your ear blush, “I hate you, you know…”

He smirked, “Normally, you get on my nerves but the way you’re biting back is pretty hot.” His lips landed on your neck, nibbling the ticklish flesh.

You whimpered at the sensation of his warm tongue lapping over your skin. The way his mouth suctioned into you like an octopus, you didn’t want to admit it but it felt good…So, so good.

He eventually unlatched his lips from your neck, saliva connecting to the now purple mark stained onto your skin. He gave it one last lick before smirking back at you, “Oops, can’t let Mira see this or else she’ll get on our asses.” A snarky tone in his words.

You sighed deeply, as if you were holding your breath the whole time, “Gray-”

He used his pointer finger to pull down the collar of your shirt, revealing more of your cleavage. He whistled at the sight, “Don’t remember you having these…”

You scoffed, “Ever heard of puberty?”

He hooked his finger under your shirt, “Mmm, well thank god for that…” He gave it a light tug, pleading for you to take it off. He loved the way it hugged your figure, the way the v-neck teased that bit of cleavage.

You caught onto his actions before slowly peeling off the shirt, revealing the white sports bra you had on under. It didn’t make sense. Why were you willingly stripping for him? It’s not like he was even forcing you to do this…

“Damn, boring much?”

“It’s called practicality, idiot.”

“Well, it would’ve been practical for me if you had worn a clip-on bra instead,” he gently pulled the sports bra off you, revealing your exposed perky breasts in-front of him. Your exposed nipples hardened from the coldness of the air. A sign of Gray’s magic activating near you. His voice deep like a growl, “Oh wow…”

You whinced as he flicked your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he toyed with them like a cat.

“Ah…Gray, please.”

“Mmm, please what, Princess?” He groped your breast, giving it light squeezes as he circled your areoles.

“A-Ah mmm please, keep touching me.” You felt that same wave of heat wash over you again as you gripped his forearm, biting your bottom lip as you attempted to hide your moans.

He smiled at the scene unfolding before him, “Your shitty attitude has been pissing me off this entire day, I’d rather see you whine on the floor like a cat in heat while you beg for me to make you cum.”

“Oh fuck y-” Your sentence is cut off when he pinches your nipples, throwing your head back at the mix of pain and pleasure.

“Wanna say that again, princess?” He looks down at you with a devious grin.

You stammer, “F-Fuck y-you.”

He chuckles before getting close to your ear, his voice going down an octave, “Keep talking like that or I won’t touch your pussy.”

God, his voice is so sexy.

“Urgh, fine.”

“Good girl.”

He released his tight grip on your nipples before slowly sliding his muscular hand down your pants. You hiss at the feeling of his cold hands on your pelvis before you feel the pressure of his index on your clothed clit.

“Naughty girl, already getting wet from me touching your nipples,” he teases circles onto your protruding clit.

You let out a hushed moan as you felt your needy pussy begged for his touch.

He rolled the bundle of nerves between his fingers as he looked down at your pathetic stance, your panties becoming even wetter than before. His dick getting harder by the second as you moaned at his touch.

“Just this once…make me cum, oh god…” You whined while involuntarily grinding on his fingers. Your hips moving to their rhythm.

He flicked your bean faster as you whined for him, increasing the volume of your moans.

“Fuck, keep moaning like that and I’ll cum under this towel,” already feeling the tip of dick leaking with pre-cum.

Your breath hastened as his fingers worked miraculously on you, your thighs clenching ground his arm as if it were suffocating it. You grab onto your shoulders as you felt your body give into the pleasure of the ice wizard.

“Heh, if you weren’t such a bad girl, I would’ve made you cum on my dick…”

You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed from your own karma punching you in the face. Maybe it was the hormones but you wouldn’t have complained if he pinned you the bed and fucked your brains out then and there.

“God, girl, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

You felt your body chase the high as your pussy became sloppy from his touch, tears welling up in your eye ducts in the process.

You were able to mutter a single word, “Please…”

He smirked at your pathetic attempt at begging before his fingers moved at an inhuman speed.

“Gray, I’m gonna cum sto-”

Your words were cut off as you reached your limit, your body trembled from ecstasy as you let yourselves go on his touch. Your skin felt hot to the touch, sweat dripping down your naked body, your clit felt swollen and tired.

Gray took his hand out of your panties, his pale fingers now coated with your creamy liquid before licking it seductively.

“Mmm, taste good, princess.”

“Shut up.”

You attempted to lift yourself off the floor as if you were a newborn giraffe learning to walk, yet, your attempts were deemed unsuccessful. You fell back down before glaring at Gray with a flushed expression.

He laughed at your pitiful attempt, “Oh man, I didn’t know I was that good!”

“Just get me on the bed you idiot,” you retorted.

He playfully rolled his eyes before scooping you up princess style, plopping you down on the bed, “Happy?”

“Very,” you said in a snooty remark.

As he lays down next to you, he turns toward your direction, “Let’s do that again.”

“Nope.”

You quickly pulled the covers over your still damp body before clicking the light switch on the lamp. The room now filled in dark silence.

As you closed your eyes, you felt your conscious drifting away as you wondered how the next day would turn out…

a/n: sorry for the rushed ending, i’ve lost my touch since i first wrote this months ago 😞

[1v31182m5]

[lightwithinthedarknessu]

Happy Valentines Day! 💝✨