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neen-writes · 3 months

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Silver for Monsters -- Ch. 8 "Ghosts"

Pairing: Gajeel/Levy

Series: Fairy Tail, Witcher AU

Notes: Finally found the motivation to finish this chapter! It's a bit transitional, a bit tense, I'm hoping to get into some juicier stuff in the next chapter. Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“Is it true what the folk say? That Witchers are emotionless?”

A small, half-dead fire cast weak light on the Witcher and the sorceress. He’d set it, and maintained it long enough to roast the small rabbit he shot shortly after setting camp. It was a meager meal, but they’d both brought enough supplemental vittles to make it a worthwhile meal.

Gajeel grimaced at the broad question, with so little nuance. He leveled a disappointed stare at her, arching a single brow, “Tell me you’re not so thick.”

She raised her hands in surrender with a dry laugh. “I’m joking. I have eyes, you know,” she offered. “Curious where the rumor comes from though.” They had spoken briefly about what he was when they’d first met. It felt like an age, now, since that night in her old home when she was patching up his wounds from the Fiend. When she thought that was to be the one and only time that she would ever meet and interact with the Witcher. It felt more valuable, then, to try and eke out whatever information she could get on Witchers if she was to never meet one again.

It was amusing, in retrospect, how ignorant the two of them were that night to everything they would experience in the coming days. When fate would draw the two unlikely allies together not once, twice, but three times. It started to feel like some sort of cosmic affront to do anything but travel together. Which led her to wonder what that would mean for them when she did find Erza. Would the two of them go their separate ways then? Levy and her compatriots, surely, would have no shortage of work to do when she found out whatever Erza had to impart upon them. None of which had to do with Gajeel.

Levy had limited knowledge on Witchers, but she did know that they notoriously did not involve themselves in the matters of men. Certainly not kings. Hunters for hire, that was their purpose, and they had yet to make any qualms with that designation.

Gajeel showed little amusement or enthusiasm towards entertaining her line of conversation. Especially given where they left off just a short time before settling down for the night. He’d grown more than accustomed to her composure, at times so steadfast that she readily humbled him into his own. Levy, in the short time he knew her, held her nerve. In the face of Temerian soldiers and Fiends in the dark, she stood steady. Yet this night, looking into a crowd of dancers, the mere possibility she saw someone she believed dead drove her to near madness. The look in her eyes before almost calling out to the crowd was unrecognizable. Foreign.

Still, it was clear even to him that she was just trying to fill the silence, and he found himself with much more tolerance for her than he expected. If tolerance was even the word for it. Did tolerance feel like the overwhelming desire for her to talk to him?

He cleaned off the last bit of meat from a femur, and swiped the back of his hand at the grease on his mouth. “Same place they all come from. Shite storytellers with an agenda. Witchers were respected until they weren’t, and you know the damage the right people can do with ignorant townsfolk and a good motive.” There was no real bitterness or displeasure in his tone as much as there was boredom. It was a tired tale and it made no difference to him what people thought. If Witchers took the time to give a shit about the opinions of the masses, they’d never do anything else. “We gotta keep ourselves in check in this line o’ work anyway. Focused, disciplined, all that. It’s an easy image to keep.”

Levy cocked her head, leaning back against a tree. “It’s clearly untrue, why let them believe it?”

Gajeel shrugged, “Why not? It’s good for business, and we get paid either way,” he flicked a cleaned bone off into the shrubs. “If you’re necessary, good at what you do, and feared, it tends to work in your favor.” With a long stick, he pushed around the charred logs in the fire, working to smother the remaining embers. It was risky enough to set a fire, but they needed to eat, and if he was being honest, he wouldn’t have protested a little something to get his blood pumping.

The sorceress knit her brows together, “I have a sneaking suspicion that really only works if you’re a man.”

“It does. Good news for me,” he flashed a sly grin at her, which she did not return outright, but the twinkle was in her eye regardless. That should not have felt like as much of a victory as it did. “Though the stories ain’t stingy with how much not being a man works for you sorceresses,” Gajeel paused to puff out his chest a little and tilt up his chin, “Political power, wealth, positions of esteem.” There’s mockery in his tone coming from someone that had absolutely no regard for any of these things. Money he needed, sure, for gear and the day to day. But wealth? Nothing but problems.

Levy barked a laugh that lacked any shred of warmth. Ah, that was far less satisfying. “Oh yes, how mighty we are,” she sneered, adjusting the hood around her neck. “When men fear one another, they have an odd habit of turning it into respect or obedience. Oh but when men fear women, particularly those they cannot grasp and control when fires ignite in their gluttonous, round bellies…” She held his stare then, the dying firelight dancing across her features. He thought, suddenly, of when he first met her and the way her conjured fire illuminated her when facing the Fiend. How his immediate thought, before he controlled himself, was how terrifyingly beautiful she was. And how that clashed with what she was telling him now.

Half of the Lodge’s identity was their beauty. In fact, it had been an intentional representation, because magic and swords were not half as effective at gaining favor as desire. Part of their development as mages, a reward as it had once been called, was the ability to alter their appearances. If one had the chance to make themselves beautiful and young with a wave of their hand for the rest of their lives, who would pass the opportunity?

In their prime, their alliances wanted both their favor and their company in equal measure. The latter they could often dangle without ever having to follow through, though that wasn’t to say there hadn’t been sorceresses that readily wielded that weapon whenever the benefit arose. Vanity was a trademark of the Lodge, and they had no reason to hide it. Everything was a competition, least of all how many powerful men each had wrapped around their pinky.

The truth of the matter was the Lodge as a whole got cocky. Regardless if there were those of them who preferred more subtle, careful approaches, they were still a singular body in the eyes of kings. The fall was swift, brutal, and bloody. Now she lived in hiding, on the run, with all her relationships strained or burned.

“Well,” she continued, gesturing down at herself, “The story writes itself in living color.” Levy stared Gajeel down a moment longer, then sighed and looked off to the side. She was bitter, how could she not be? She crossed her arms, settled back into the tree best she could, and shut her eyes, “We should get some sleep.”

That was that, and any chance Gajeel had of pushing the issue, or any others burning in his mind was gone. He waited at least another hour to sleep, ensuring the fire was out entirely and their surroundings remained quiet. He told himself that was the only reason he stayed up, but his attention was split between their surroundings and the slow breaths of the demure mage.

Gajeel wasn’t a curious man by nature. He did not linger, he did not dwell. He killed his targets, collected his reward, and moved on. But this situation he found himself in, somehow willingly, was against everything he thought himself to be. He wanted to know more about Levy, he wanted to help her.

A rustle in the brush coiled every muscle in his body, and his eyes flicked from her to motion where the shrubs cleared. A rabbit ran, the shadowed figure of some bird of prey trailing behind. He relaxed, and only then did he realize he had reflexively angled himself closer to her.

Gajeel wanted to protect her.

Those thoughts sat like stones in his chest. Dangerous, heavy stones. But even so, for the first time in the last few weeks, the Witcher’s sleep was dreamless, and the tug in his chest had gone still.

–

“What if they don’t like me, though?” green, expectant eyes turned up to the sorceress who was only a few inches taller than her. Two figures walked down familiarly cold, dreary halls, the shorter carrying a small stack of books. Levy walked with a practiced poise, the straightness in her spine giving away some indication of a higher position.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” That was her voice, Levy’s voice, but it didn’t come from her. In fact, it was as thought she was watching herself from the outside. “Even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter. You’re the most talented prospect Aretuza has seen in an age.”

The younger pouted in response, “But I don’t want to just be a talent. You’re so many things, Levy. I want to be many things too.”

“Likable, among those?” Levy raised her brows and gave a warm, knowing smile to the young mage. “You have more to your advantage than you give yourself credit for. Don’t let the jealousy of your year-mates distract you.”

They turned a corner, coming face to face with another woman dressed like Levy and with similarly perfect posture. A tail of near-white hair was braided over her right shoulder, hanging in front, tied with a black ribbon. All the sorceresses, even the sorcerers, out of Aretuza boasted fair looks, but Mirajane was nothing short of a vision. Devastatingly beautiful, she had spared no effort when given the opportunity to magically alter her appearance. It was as though she looked at every possible asset she could bestow upon herself, and said ‘yes, all.’

“Levy, Mavis,” she nodded to them both by way of greeting. Behind her, a small group of girls the same age as the younger mage with Levy suddenly found the walls and the floors more interesting. “Will you be joining class this evening, or will your lessons take up all your valuable time?” A sly, playfully accusatory look slid over to Levy, who merely rolled her eyes. “I’ll be expanding on deadly herbs and their versatility in harm and healing, if that’s of any motivation for you.”

Mavis shifted shamefully at Levy’s side. She did enjoy Mira’s classes, but Levy’s private lessons were far more interesting. “I’ll have her back when expected, Mira,” Levy cut in, placing a hand on Mavis’ head.

“I’ll hold you to it.” The other sorceress gave her a warm smile, then beckoned to the group of girls behind her to follow along down the hall.

Levy chuckled to herself and ruffled the young mage’s wet hair.

Thunder boomed through the keep’s halls, and Levy withdrew her bloody hand from the girl at her side. She looked out the window first to clear blue skies, and another crack came roaring through. The sorceress opened her mouth to speak to her apprentice, but when looking down upon her found lifeless pools of green staring back. Through her. A cloak of red spread over her, pooling at her bare feet, and volatile magic crackled in sickly green sparks around her.

“I wanted to be just like you.” The third explosion collapsed the halls, and the floor fell out from under them. “I always will.”

–

In the distance, thunder rumbled, long and rolling. Levy lurched awake so violently she choked on her own breath, and fell into a coughing fit. She sat up abruptly, cupping her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound, when two hands pressed on her shoulders. Her eyes darted aimlessly before finding the yellow irises of her Witcher.

“Eyes on me, Lev,” Gajeel’s voice rumbled, calmly, through the chaos of her waking mind. “Breathe,” he commanded, and his grip squeezed once on her shoulders.

She held eye contact with him, trying to swallow down her choking breaths, and he waited patiently with her. The proximity made his heart stutter, but he couldn’t spare the composure to think about it. Levy clasped her collar, trying to anchor herself, and after several moments the fits ceased.

“Good. In through the nose, out through the mouth,” he instructed, calling back on his own daily meditations. She followed without protest until he could hear her heartbeat slow.

The sun had barely started to rise, and cast a stark red glow through the trees upon their camp. It could not have been a more ominous light to wake up from a nightmare into. “I’m fine, thank you,” she raised her hand and placed it against his chest, a form of dismissal but to him a jolt. He released her with control, and leaned back onto his heels.

“Still can’t sleep, eh?”

Levy laughed dryly and swallowed hard, “You could say that,” she answered, “Just, dreams that don’t make any sense.” She brushed herself off, trying to smooth the sleep out of her clothes. Twice now she had embarrassed herself with him.

“I find most of ‘em make sense if you turn ‘em the right way,” he remarked vaguely as he eyed her up and down. He knew that better than she could understand. “Ya want to talk about it? Ain’t been right since last night.” Levy shot him a look that was a pretty immediate ‘no,’ with a tingle of uneasiness that he wasn’t going to just pretend her outbursts at the windmill or just now didn’t happen. “Got anythin’ to do with this Mavis?” Color drained from her face all over again. “You were mumblin’ it in your sleep,” he offered, hoping it would land a bit softer than rehashing their night.

She groaned and ran her fingers through her blue hair, the color shifting with the movement of her hands back to an unassuming brown. Her palms dragged down and round her neck, then pushed up her cheeks to rub at her aching temples. “Can we talk about this on horseback, please. I’m stiffer than a shot of dwarven spirits.”

Gajeel blinked, then laughed gruffly while hauling himself up onto his feet. “Deal. Rain’s gonna start at some point and we got a ways to our destination, yet.”

Another groan. “Rain. Stellar.”

–

“It makes no sense,” Levy started, clutching the rim of the saddle behind her. They’d been riding for somewhere close to an hour already, and moisture most certainly hung in the air as dark clouds moved in faster than they were cantering. “She’d never even been to Aretuza. Mavis came into my life before everything fell apart,” there was a faraway tone in her voice, like still half trying to make sense of the imagery. “Though not for lack of trying on everyone else’s part…but that place would have ruined her.”

Gajeel took a moment to consider his words, which by all accounts was not something he cared to do often. But this was significant to her. “There was someone at the party that looked like her.” Not a question.

Levy deflated, and her face heated in embarrassment. “Yes.”

“But she’s dead?”

Her breathing stilled, and there was a long beat before she answered again. “Has been for a while. But for that dance, however long it was, she was alive. She loved to dance. Terrible at it, but she was a child then. She would have been,” another weighted pause as she started to count, but gave up, “well, it doesn't matter. Facts are what they are. And I lost my head for a moment. It won't happen again.” There was an edge to her words that told him she was done talking about this. Again. “We soldier on, Gajeel.”

For now, he would have to leave it be, whether he wanted to or not.

The trail they followed forked in front of them, with the most direct route bringing them through Alness, and the path to the left along the forest edge before curving south again. It had been some time since he came out this way, but the way was still familiar. The less direct route would avoid the bustle of town, and still get them to their destination with little time lost.

Wordlessly, he pulled them left and continued in relative silence as thunder rumbled again and rain started to sprinkle. However, Levy was the one to speak again, voice low with warning. “Gajeel, smoke.”

The Witcher grunted, narrowing his eyes at the black wisp rising from somewhere just past the treeline. “I see it,” he replied, giving a quick nudge to the horse to bring them to a trot. All they needed to do was look busy, and keep moving. There’s a lot of trouble that can be avoided by not lingering.

But, not this trouble, it would seem.

Four men with weapons drawn emerged from the brush, and if his hearing served him right a fifth hung back out of view. Gajeel pulled back on the reins to slow down, scanning over the four of them with a look that he hoped would give them second thoughts. Subtly, he leaned forward leading with his right shoulder, where the two hilts of his swords rose up. With his eyesight, he saw one of them look at his weapons, hesitating for just a second, before moving then to the small undeniably feminine figure in the saddle behind him.

Gajeel bristled more than he expected to when they all exchanged looks, speaking unintelligibly to each other. He angled the horse in a way it would look like he intended to swing wide, and one of the smaller men took a quick step in the same direction, sealing their intentions.

Instinctive excitement bubbled in his chest at an opportunity to test his armor at last. His breathing slowed, and a predator’s calm settled over him. “Stay on the horse. Do nothing to draw attention,” he said in a low voice, angling forward to dismount.

“I can help, Gajeel, you’re outnumbered,” Levy whispered back, pulling her hood more securely over her head.

“Ain’t gonna say it again. This’ll only take a minute,” Gajeel heaved himself off the horse, landing with a heavy thud in the dirt. “Keep. Your. Cover,” he growled, not once taking his eyes off the bandits in the road. “Ride when they come at you.”

Levy didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before the Witcher took off in a full sprint for the trees, away from the group, and several things happened at once. By the faces of the four men in the open, they were also taken entirely by surprise. One of them, wielding a mace, took only a second of hesitation before he shouted in protest, and took off in pursuit. The remaining three looked to Levy, stricken suddenly with expressions that screamed ‘opportunity.’

“Hells, Gajeel!” she hissed, scooting forward in the saddle to take hold of the reins and give a hard tug and a swift kick. The horse took off in a wide arc to put distance between her and the immediate threat and try to keep eyes on Gajeel.

But he barged, unhindered, through the underbrush, and disappeared swiftly from view. Unaware of the fifth member, it appeared to Levy that he just left the scene entirely, but despite how little they knew one another it seemed unlikely he would run from a fight.

At the same moment the man with the mace caught up to the treeline, Gajeel came back into view to meet him, dragging a small man with a bow by the face. The Witcher effortlessly lifted his captive up in front of him, ‘aiming’ him at the assailant, as an arcane blast of force launched the archer forward. Two bodies cracked together and crumpled into the dirt, but Gajeel did not stop.

Levy didn’t have the time to track what he would do next as he barrelled forward, forced to keep her attention on the men that had their sights on her. She could easily have ridden off and truly gone a safe distance, but she had no desire to be so useless, and would need to stick with evasive maneuvers while keeping close.

“That’s right sweetheart, stay right there!” one of them sneered, and she felt her skin prickle.

If I fry all three of you it won’t matter if I break my cover. Try it, ape, she thought, feeling her fingertips tingle.

The mage would find no use for her magic today, as Gajeel commanded their attention instead, with no room for indecision. “Eyes on me!” The words may have been enough, but he punctuated them with three brutal cracks of his sword fist against his chest before brandishing the black steel sword at his side. The Witcher was the embodiment of brutality, and as he rushed forward the thrill of violence surged through every vein, spurred even more by the flash of regret from the remaining three bandits.

Too late to back out now; he made it more than obvious they were dealing with a Witcher. And not just any, but Black Steel. It was time for them to get an intimate view at the craftsmanship that earned him that name.

They made a paltry attempt to ready themselves for the one-man onslaught, the bolder of the three lurching forward with a shortsword swing.

Let’s see how good your work is, Salamander, he thought, skidding to a halt as he thrust up his right forearm to take the hit. The blade clashed into the scales of his bracers, and went no further. Gajeel barked a thrilled laugh, glancing at the man from below his arm, as his free hand shot forward to unleash a blast of fire into the bandit’s face.

The agonized scream barely rose from his throat before Gajeel sidestepped around him, and with one spin he arced his steel into the two remaining men at once. In a matter of seconds, all that remained was hiss of his fire under steadier rainfall, and Gajeel was left feeling…wholly dissatisfied.

He huffed, swinging his steel to the side hard enough to throw off the majority of the blood. The sound of hoofbeats approached, and he turned to meet Levy as she came closer. He watched her sweep her eyes over him once, and he found himself straightening slightly under her scrutiny. “Having fun, are you?” she asked, crossing her arms and surveying their surroundings while trying to avoid looking at any of the bodies too long.

Gajeel flashed his teeth at her, “I would, if they were worth–”

Levy’s face twisted in panicked urgency, her eyes locking onto something beyond them, but all the warning she could manage was to shout his name.

White pain blasted from the edge of the Witcher’s vision, followed immediately by the scream of a horse.

#gajevy #gajeel x levy #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fanfic #gajeel redfox

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dean-samw67 · 2 years

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Gajeel Redfox NSFW Alphabet

WARNINGS: NSFW, SEMI-SMUT

I needed some more Gajeel content because I am so in love with this man it could probably be a crime.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He is a rough on the outside type of guy but when you two have finished up he would definitely run you a bath or share a shower with you where he will help you clean up before taking you to bed and cuddling with you up on his chest

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

On him: He loves his lips and using them on you in every possible way. He also loves his hands because he can caress you to his heart's content.

On you: Everything. Can’t convince me that Gajeel doesn’t adore every part of you and worship your body

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Man definitely has a breeding kink so he likes it best when it is inside you

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He absolutely goes feral over seeing you covered in marks he caused

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He may have had quick hookups in the past but he will need to take the time to learn what you like

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Literally anything. As long as both of you are feeling good he has no preference

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

I don’t think you will catch this man laughing durning sex but he probably will make some jokes with you afterwards

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it well groomed down there, doesn’t shave it all the way down but keeps it trimmed

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

If you and him are together he can be pretty intimate. Kissing, caressing, holding you close, eye contact.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

I feel like the dragon slayers can be more horny than normal so he definitely jerks off when he is feeling pent up and you aren’t there

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Blindfolding, bondage, choking, basically he likes rough sex

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He will do it pretty much anywhere you are comfortable with but please pull him into a closet and suck him off. He will get off so hard to the thought of someone catching you guys and knowing you are his.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Tease him. Wear a short skirt or dress, thigh highs with heels, bend over a table or the bar at the guild. He will take you home and wreck you.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He is a pretty open guy. But anything to do with bodily fluids is a no for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think he may prefer receiving. He loves seeing you suck him off. But he will never turn up a chance to give you oral

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be slow but still rough. He likes rough and dirty sex

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He will not turn down the opportunity

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Really just depends on what the risks are

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

I feel like he would tired you out because, man, can he last and he can go multiple rounds, with small breaks in between though.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s up to experiment, take that as you will.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s a teaser for sure but will make sure you get what you ask for, if you ask nice enough

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Depends on where you are. If you are in a private area he will make all the noise his throat will let him because he wants you to know what you do to him. If you are having a quickie in a storage closet at the guild or something he will keep it more quiet, maybe a small grunt or groan here or there.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

He loves doing sexy costumes with you on Halloween, he loves it even more when you get to take those costumes off, maybe you even roleplay a bit while in costume (Maybe I’ll write a smutty fic for this ;))

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

This man is pretty big in general, so I think it’s fair to say he’s above average in his pants. Not by much. Maybe between 7 ½ - 8 ½ inches with a nice amount of girth

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Really it just depends on the day. I feel like he’s got a week out of every month where he is just unbelievably horny. (It’s like he has a cycle LMAO)

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Once he is sure you are cleaned up and comfortable he will be out pretty quick, but seeing how he can probably wear a person out you probably are too.

Masterlist

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