Hey Hope yall enjoy the chapter. I put out an aux chapter with images of the harem. Also mira, ultear, and brandish are getting added due to votes.
Also I'm gonna do r18 but in the future when they are older, like 10 or so chapters maybe and after a few time skips. I'm going to have it as its own chapter that will be posted at the same time as the previous one so if someone doesn't wanna see it they don't have to.
Hope yall enjoy the early chapter
Porlyusica grumbled as she motioned them inside, her sharp eyes flicking over Varion's battered form with a mix of annoyance and professional detachment. The cottage smelled of dried herbs and sharp potions, shelves lined with jars of glowing liquids and bundles of roots. "Sit down before you collapse, boy," she said. "And you—" she pointed at Erza—"stay out of my way unless I need something lifted."
Varion lowered himself onto the examination table with a wince, his body protesting every movement. Erza hovered nearby, lingering near him for a moment longer than necessary before she stepped back, watching silently and intently. Her red hair caught the dim lantern light, casting soft shadows on her face, where worry etched fine lines around her eyes.
The healer wasted no time, peeling back his torn shirt to expose the wounds. "Dark magic—nasty stuff." Her hands glowed with green light as she worked quickly, drawing out the black wisps of corruption that hissed and evaporated. She cleaned the cuts, applied salves to the burns, and bandaged everything tightly, her movements efficient and gruff. Varion gritted his teeth through the sting, but the pain eased as she finished.
"There," she said, stepping back. "You'll live. Rest, or don't, your funeral. Now get out!!"
Varion nodded gratefully, sliding off the table. "Thank you."
Porlyusica waved him off. "Tell Makarov to stop sending me his messes."
Outside, the night had fully fallen, stars twinkling above the trees. Varion tried to walk on his own, but his legs wobbled slightly, exhaustion hitting like a wall now that the pain was dulled. Erza slipped her arm around his waist without a word, taking his weight as she guided him down the path. Her white blouse and blue skirt fluttered slightly in the breeze, her usual casual outfit making her seem less like the armored knight and more approachable in the moonlight.
"You don't have to—" he started, but she cut him off with a soft shake of her head.
"I do," she said quietly, her voice warmer than usual. "You're strong, but even you need help sometimes."
They walked in silence for a bit, the wooded path crunching under their feet. Varion's heart beat a little faster—not from pain, but from her closeness, the way her arm fit around his waist to steady him, her steps careful and supportive. Erza glanced at him occasionally, her usual armor of sternness cracking just a fraction—worry lingering in her eyes, a subtle tension in how she held him, like she didn't want to let him get hurt.
"You fought a Wizard Saint," she murmured after a while, her voice low as if sharing a secret. "And held your own. That's… more than most could do. Are you really okay? Not just the wounds—the rest?"
Varion shrugged lightly, wincing. "It was a draw, really. He backed off because of the noise. Not because I beat him." He paused, glancing at her. "I'm fine. Tired, but fine. Thanks for… this."
She nodded, her grip tightening slightly—not painfully, but as if to secure him closer, a silent acknowledgment. The air between them felt charged, the quiet walk building a subtle tension—her warmth against his side, the way their steps synced without effort. Neither spoke more, but the closeness lingered, drawing them a little nearer with each step. Varion found himself leaning into it, the support not just physical but something deeper, a quiet comfort in her presence that eased the ache in his chest.
By the time they reached the house, Varion was leaning heavily on her, exhaustion winning out. She helped him inside, the moment stretching just a second longer before she pulled away.
As he turned to thank her again, Erza spoke first, her cheeks tinting a soft pink—unusual for her, like she wasn't used to this kind of vulnerability. "I'll… stay in the guest room tonight," she said, her voice determined but soft. "To keep an eye on the kids and… make sure you're alright. You're a guild member now—a friend. It's what we do."
Varion blinked, surprised but touched. "You sure? I don't want to impose."
She nodded firmly, though the blush deepened slightly. "I'm sure. You need rest, and the children might wake up confused. Let me help."
He smiled faintly, the gesture warming despite his fatigue. "Thanks, Erza. Really."
She gave a small nod, turning toward the guest room with a final glance over her shoulder. "Goodnight, Varion."
"Goodnight."
The house fell quiet as he headed to his own room, the day's weight finally lifting just a little.
The next morning (erza's pov)
Erza stirred awake in the guest room, the morning light filtering through thin curtains and casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. At 13, she was used to early rises—training didn't wait for the sun—but this felt different. The house was quiet, unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting after the chaos of the previous day. She sat up, her nightgown shifting as she rubbed her eyes, replaying the events: Varion's battered return, the guild's shock, escorting him to Porlyusica. He'd insisted he was fine, but the way he'd leaned on her during the walk home said otherwise. A faint warmth crept to her cheeks at the memory—she pushed it aside, focusing on the day ahead.
Swinging her legs over the bed, she requipped into her usual casual clothes: a simple red blouse tucked into a white skirt, practical and comfortable. The house smelled of fresh wood and faint herbs from Porlyusica's salves. She headed downstairs quietly, her footsteps light on the creaky stairs, not wanting to wake anyone too soon.
In the living room, she found the first signs of life. The kids were already stirring—Wendy peeking out from her room, her blue hair tousled from sleep; Sting and Rogue emerging from theirs, yawning; Natsu bounding down the hall with his usual energy. And then there was Gajeel, the new boy with the wild black hair and piercings, in the guest room doorway looking a bit groggy but alert. Wasn't he in the infirmary? Erza frowned, piecing it together.
"Good morning," she said, her voice firm but gentle as she entered the common area. The kids turned to her, Wendy waving sleepily.
"Morning, Erza!" Wendy said brightly, though her eyes darted toward Varion's room with concern.
Erza nodded, glancing at Gajeel. "You must be Gajeel. How did you get here? I thought you were in the guild infirmary."
Gajeel shrugged, his red eyes narrowing slightly in confusion, but there was less hostility than she'd expected. "Some old guys from the guild brought us home last night. Macao and Wakaba, I think? They said Varion was gettin' patched up, so they carried me here and dumped me in the guest room. The other brats woke me up and tried explainin' stuff—somethin' about a Gate and dragons and bein' family or whatever. Still confusin', but… I guess it makes sense? Kinda? Or at least feels right I guess."
Wendy nodded eagerly. "We told him about the amnesia and how Varion's our big brother! He's been looking all over for us!"
Sting grinned. "Yeah, and now we're all here! This place is awesome."
Natsu, ever the energetic one, jumped up. "Hey, let's check on big bro! See if he's up yet!"
Sting perked up immediately. "Yeah! He looked rough last night—bet he's got cool scars now!"
The two hot-headed boys started toward Varion's room, but Erza stepped in front of them, her arms crossed and expression stern. "No. He needs rest. You'll wake him if you barge in like that."
Natsu skidded to a halt, pouting. "Aww, come on, Erza! Just a peek!"
Sting crossed his arms defiantly. "Yeah, what if he's hungry or somethin'?"
Erza's gaze hardened, her voice sharp. "I said no. He's injured, let him sleep. If you disturb him, you'll answer to me."
The boys grumbled but backed off, Natsu kicking at the floor. "Fine…"
Wendy, who'd been hanging back, tugged at Erza's skirt, her big blue eyes filled with worry and a hint of upset. "Is… is he okay? He looked really hurt last night…"
Erza's stern expression softened instantly at Wendy's small, caring voice. She knelt down to the girl's level, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He's fine, Wendy. He just needs rest to heal properly. He'll be good as new soon."
Wendy beamed, her worry easing. "Okay! Then… we should make him a get well soon breakfast! To help him feel better!"
The other kids lit up at the idea. Natsu punched the air. "Yeah! I'll make it super spicy!"
Sting nodded enthusiastically. "I'll help with the heavy stuff!"
Rogue gave a small smile. "Sounds good."
Even Gajeel, still rubbing his head from last night's haze, pushed himself up from the couch. "Tch. Fine. I'll help too. Guy fought that creep for me… least I can do is throw some food together."
Erza stood, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Excellent. Everyone, to the kitchen. We'll work together."
The kids rushed ahead, their energy filling the house with laughter and clattering pans as they dove into the task. Erza followed, her heart a little lighter—watching them bond, even Gajeel pitching in with gruff reluctance, felt right. Fairy Tail's spirit was already weaving its way into this new family.
(3rd person pov)
The kitchen in the new house was a battlefield by mid-morning, the air thick with smoke, flour dust, and the scent of charred something-or-other. Erza stood in the middle of it all, her white blouse already dusted with white powder, trying to direct the chaos like a general in a losing war. she was used to order—training regimens, sword drills—but this? This was pandemonium.
Wendy, the smallest and most careful, had taken charge of the bacon, carefully laying strips in a pan over the stove. She'd watched it diligently, but a distraction from Natsu's yelling had drawn her attention and let it sit too long. Now the pieces were crispy black edges, curling sadly. Wendy stared at them, her blue eyes filling with tears, lip quivering as she poked one with a fork. "I… I burned it. It was supposed to be perfect for Varion…"
Natsu, meanwhile, had "helped" with the eggs—cracking them with way too much enthusiasm, shells flying everywhere, yolks splattering the counter like abstract art. "It's fine! Eggs are supposed to be scrambled!" he shouted, waving a whisk like a weapon.
Sting, trying to one-up him, had grabbed the flour for pancakes—dumping half the bag into a bowl without measuring, creating a doughy paste that stuck to everything. "This is how you make 'em tough! Like me!"
Rogue had attempted toast, but somehow turned the bread into charred bricks. "Uhhh… oops."
Gajeel, grumbling the whole time, had been on fruit duty—chopping apples with iron-clad fists that turned them into mush. "This is stupid. Why can't we just eat 'em whole?"
The noise escalated when Natsu "accidentally" flicked egg yolk at Sting, sparking a full-blown food fight. Flour flew like snow, egg goo splattered walls, and Gajeel's apple mush became improvised ammo. Shouts and laughter filled the room—"Take that!" "Hey, not fair!"—the mess spreading like wildfire. Erza tried to intervene, her voice stern over the din: "Stop this at once! This is not how we—" but a stray flour bomb dusted her red hair white and whipped cream covered the top of her hair, leaving her sputtering.
The racket echoed through the house, loud enough to wake the dead, or at least Varion. Upstairs, he stirred in his bed, groaning as the sounds pulled him from sleep. His body ached slightly from yesterday's fight, bandages tight around his wounds, but he swung his legs over the side anyway, rubbing his eyes. "What in the…?"
He padded downstairs in his sleep clothes, hair tousled, following the noise to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him stopped him in the doorway: utter disaster. Flour coated every surface like fresh snow, egg yolks dripped from the ceiling, apple mush smeared the floor. Natsu and Sting were in a full tussle, covered head to toe in gooey batter; Rogue had retreated to a corner staring with black lines waving above his head and a flour handprint on his cheek, Gajeel was laughing gruffly, bits of fruit in his hair. Erza stood amid the wreckage, trying to pull the boys apart, her blouse and skirt streaked with white and yellow and her head looked like a strawberry topped with whipped cream.
Only Wendy was somewhat clean with what looked like a bit of flour puffed on her shirt, standing by the stove with her teary eyes fixed on the burnt bacon, looking heartbroken.
Varion cleared his throat, and the room froze. The kids turned, faces shifting from glee to guilt—except Wendy, who sniffled.
"Uh… morning?" Natsu said sheepishly, releasing Sting's collar.
Varion stepped in, surveying the mess with a raised eyebrow—but no anger. Instead, he walked over to Wendy first, kneeling down to her level. "Hey, what's wrong?"
She held up the plate of charred bacon, tears spilling over. "I… I burned it. It was supposed to be a get well soon breakfast for you…"
Varion took a piece, popping it into his mouth without hesitation. It crunched like charcoal, bitter and overdone, but he chewed and swallowed with a genuine smile, ruffling her blue hair gently. "Thanks, Wendy. It's perfect. Best bacon I've had in ages."
Her tears stopped, a beaming smile breaking through. "Really?"
"Really." He stood, turning to the others with a warm smile that lit up his bruised face. "And thanks to all of you for trying. It means a lot."
The kids relaxed, grins returning—Natsu rubbing his neck sheepishly, Sting laughing it off, Rogue nodding quietly, Gajeel grunting in acknowledgment.
"Now," Varion said, his tone light but firm, "go wash up. I'll clean this and cook some real food."
They scampered off, chattering excitedly about the "epic mess," leaving Varion and Erza alone in the kitchen. She gave him a small, approving nod, a faint blush on her cheeks from the domestic chaos.
He looked to Erza, who had some whipped cream smeared on her cheek from trying to break up the food fight earlier. Without thinking, Varion reached out, gently wiping it off with his thumb. He popped the gloob into his mouth, tasting the sweet cream, and said casually, "You should probably go get cleaned up as well."
Erza's eyes widened, her face turning a deep cherry red in an instant—the blush spreading from her cheeks to her ears. She froze for a split second, then bolted upright, mumbling something incoherent under her breath as she sprinted out of the kitchen and up the stairs, the door to the guest room slamming shut behind her.
Varion stood there, blinking in surprise at her reaction and then his own actions, then chuckled softly to himself. The sound was light, genuine, cutting through the quiet mess of the kitchen. As the amusement faded, a new realization settled in—warm, unexpected. He liked her. In a romantic way. The thought made him pause, feeling his heart beat slightly faster, leaning against the counter. He'd only known her for two days—barely enough time to learn her name, let alone feel this pull. But emotions aren't rational, he admitted inwardly. They just are what they are. No logic to it, no timeline. Just a spark that had ignited somewhere between her steady support last night and her determined help that she would constantly put out.
Shaking his head with a small smile, he turned to the disaster zone pushing those thoughts back for now. Flour dusted every surface like snow, egg yolks dripped from the ceiling in sticky trails, apple mush smeared the floor in gooey patches. Instead of scrubbing by hand, he channeled a thin thread of his Star Dragon Slayer magic—careful, controlled heat that shimmered like distant starlight. He swept his hands slowly over the counters and walls, the energy scorching just enough to vaporize the mess without damaging the wood or stone. In minutes, the kitchen gleamed clean, the air smelling faintly of ozone and warmth.
Right as he finished, Wendy came running back in, her blue ponytails bouncing, eyes bright with excitement. "Varion! Can I help you cook? Please? I want to learn!"
He turned, his warm smile returning as he saw her eager face. "I'd be happy to have your help, Wendy. Come on—let's make something good."
Wendy's beam lit up the room, and she hurried over, standing on a stool to reach the counter. Varion guided her step by step—showing her how to crack eggs without shells (gently tapping on the edge), mix batter for pancakes with slow stirs to avoid lumps, and flip them in the pan without splatter. "See? Wait for the bubbles on top, then flip quick but gentle," he said, demonstrating before handing her the spatula. Wendy tried, her first one a bit lopsided, but she giggled triumphantly when it landed right.
They worked side by side—Varion handling the hotter stove parts, Wendy measuring ingredients with careful precision. The kitchen filled with the sizzle of bacon (this time watched closely) and the sweet aroma of pancakes. By the time they plated stacks with fresh fruit and syrup, the other kids' footsteps thundered down the stairs, drawn by the smell.
Varion glanced at the spread, satisfied. "Perfect timing."