#his hair can not be contained by CAS it too tall

[gothoffspring]

I couldn't decide what headshot of Munchie to use, so you get them all. also *runs in one month late with body hider edits and runs back out*

This is a sim that has a lot of lore and I have no idea how to express it yet, so for now I'd just like to say: sunshine in zombie form 🌞

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 edit #the sims 4 edit #ts4 cas #munchie guts #ts4 occult #ts4 occults #ts4 zombie #goth occults #tw gore #tw eye horror #my sweet ugly little zombie man mwAH #truly my favorite sim ive ever made #y'all i wanna do gp so bad #and yeah he has a mohawk mullet!!! ! what of it!! #first time using srwe in so long i missed it but it kills my laptop every single time #click for hq!!!!! #his hair can not be contained by CAS it too tall

[thomas-life]

I wrote and @drksanctuary drew the chapter image for my Fluffy Coffee Shop AU Oneshot. its just short and cute. i hope you enjoy!

 A Nicobaster Coffee Shop AU with notes of ReyRae.

Hazel opens up a coffee shop and Nico is helping her out by working at it while she is still hiring staff. He meets the local union rep Alabaster Torrington...

Hidden Gem Cafe

“Well don’t you look chipper.”

Nico huffs and glares in the direction of one Rachel Elizabeth Dare.  She looks entirely too well put together with her red curls in a pony tail and black apron around her waist. The coffee shop door clinks closed behind him and he locks it. They don’t open for another 30 minutes.

“Some of us,” Nico replies, “aren’t born to be Baristas.”

Rachel snorts at his attempt at insulting her. “You’re just grumpy because you’re used to waking up at noon, and we both know it.” She pats his shoulder sympathetically as he passes. “You really will do anything for your sisters.”

Nico grunts. The clock on the break room wall reads 4:30 a.m.

Who in their right mind would ever willingly be up this early in the morning for coffee?  He emerges with his apron tied around his hips and eyeliner applied in hopes that the bags under his eyes don’t show too starkly. Rachel is preparing the drip coffee canisters and Nico starts on the pastry display case.  He’s a little surprised that Hazel hasn’t show up, but according to his text string she had barely managed to get to bed around 2 am, anxious as she was for the Hidden Gem Café’s Grand Opening. 

Nico opens the doors right on time, Rachel humming behind the counter. He can’t help but yawn. “Why are you like this.” He deadpans. He has no energy in his entire body and she laughs at him.

“The trick,” she side whispers like it’s some big secret, “ –is that I never went to sleep in the first place!” She sing songs the rest, and Nico can’t help but realize…Rachel is delusional.

He groans and makes a cup of coffee with creamer and four sugars. He might as well take advantage, and coffee really is mostly a way he uses to get sugar into his system. He takes a large swig as the door chimes and Hazel’s first ever customer enters.

The man that enters is tall and looks a little frantic. Nico tries to smile but it doesn’t come naturally, so he settles on a bemused expression as the man approaches the counter, his dress shoes clicking along the vinyl flooring. “Hey,” Nico wonders if that was too casual of a greeting but proceeds, as it’s too early to be self-conscious. “What can I get you?” The man’s squinting at the menu on the wall behind the counter, freckles scrunching on his nose; He seems almost startled to be addressed at all.

“Oh- ah,” He clears his throat looking vaguely apologetic and he ruffles his light brown hair. “Do you sell large travel containers of coffee?”

Nico nods, “We’re not busy, so we can make you one, but it will take some time. It’s $30 plus tax.”

The man brightens, “Perfect. I’ll also get a small coffee and…” he looks at the pastry display case, “One of those lemon poppy seed muffins.” A smile flashes across his face and Nico can’t help but think the man is handsome.

“You got it.” Nico winks at him, and blames it on how sleep deprived he is; he can feel the sugar and caffeine starting to work through his blood stream,  “Name for the order?”

“Alabaster.”

Alabaster sounds a little strained…Maybe I shouldn’t have winked at him. Nico thinks as he writes the name on a small cup. He looks up to see Alabaster blushing and holding his hand against the bottom half of his face. Or maybe I should do it again… Nico reconsiders, his mood sufficiently boosted. He fills the small cup himself since Rachel is working on the traveler and grabs the muffin as Alabaster inserts his credit card to pay. He looks at the other pastries in the case and grabs a cookie.

He hands both over to Alabaster. “Here’s something sweet... For being our first customer at our Grand Opening.”

Alabaster flushes again and takes them. “Thank you. I do appreciate you accommodating me.”

“Anytime.” Nico responds; This time the smile comes easily. “Enjoy your coffee. You’re traveler will be ready in a couple minutes.”

Alabaster nods and settles down at a table, taking his traveler when it’s finished, waving at Nico as he leaves.

Nico hopes he comes again.

-------

“You’re telling me you fell in love at first sight with a barista, and now you go two cities over every Monday morning just to see him?” Reyna sounds incredulous and when she says it like that, Alabaster can’t help but agree. It does sound ridiculous.

“-And the Coffee!” he rushes to justify. “Not just the Barista, Reyna. The coffee too. There’s a reason it’s called Hidden Gem- And it wasn’t at first sight!” he defends himself.

Reyna scoffs at him as they get out of the car. It’s a rare Friday off and he had insisted they come to this location for coffee. Reyna won’t deny she’s intrigued, and she’s not actually all that bothered. It’s not every day she gets to tease Alabaster C. Torrington about having a crush.

It didn't hurt that and he’d brought her some of their coffee a couple weeks ago. It really was much better than any of the popular chains they had around the office. She can’t help but tease a little more. “So when are you going to actually ask him on a date?”

Alabaster looks at her, a scandalized expression on his face. “Ask him out? While he’s at work??” His tone drips with derision, “ oh yes, that what everyone wants. For some random customer to ask them out on a date while their just working their shift.”

Reyna laughs and elbows him. “I thought you said he was flirting with you .”

Alabaster puffs out one cheek, “I believe I said I wasn’t sure if he was flirting with me. And I don’t want to be a creep. Or make him feel uncomfortable. Or ruin everything. What if I can never come back to his place because I fucked it all up?! That would be the absolute worst…” He looks regretful, “I’d have to go back to regular coffee and we both know that would be awful. I’m too pampered now.”

Reyna opens the door to Hidden Gem Café. The place is nice; plenty of space seating with personal touches that make the space welcoming and homey. There’s a mural on the wall next to the seating area she can’t help but admire. It really would be a terrible loss if Alabaster could never come here again.

A man’s voice greets them as they approach the counter, and Reyna can see why Alabaster, their number one union organizer, who has nerves of steel when negotiating with greedy executives, has been acting like a teenager: Dark hair and eyes, muscled forearms, eyeliner and earrings…just Alabaster’s type.  He keeps glancing at her with a subtly perturbed expression, and it takes her a moment to realize- she smirks. That is crestfallen expression someone that thinks we are dating.

She nudges Alabaster, hoping he will take her hint, but he’s too engrossed in chatting with Nico to notice to subtle signs of distress. She’s almost worried Nico will get the wrong idea.

Nico gestures to her, looking at Alabaster with intensity. “Is she you’re girlfriend?”

Alabaster almost chokes on his own saliva as he’s in such a rush to say ‘No’.  “Absolutely. Not.” Alabaster confirms.

Reyna likes straightforward people, and she likes Nico even more for his blunt attitude. That will save them a lot of drama down the road.  “We’re just friends.” She seconds, “And besides, you’re co-worker is more my type anyway.” She smiles winningly at the red-head behind the counter who grins back at her and gestures to Nico and Alabaster with a shrug that communicated “what can you do?”

Reyna moves to the side, waiting at the pickup counter for their coffee order. Rachel approaches with two drinks and hands them to her. “Were you serious about me being your type?” she asks, looking honestly curious, “-because I’m available.”

Alabaster chuckles nervously as Reyna walks away and looks back at Nico who appears relieved. He hopes he isn’t reading too much into that. “Honestly. She’s just a good friend.”

Nico nods, and rings up their order, debating if he should ask… more. It’s been a while since they first met, and Nico always gets butterflies on the days when Alabaster comes in. “You know,” he starts, and decides to barrel on with it, “I get off shift today in an hour … are you free after that? I know a good Italian place that serves a really good lunch menu.” He hears Alabaster audibly take a breath. “Yes!” Alabaster’s voice can be heard very clearly over the background noise of people and music. “ah- I mean. Yes.” He returns to a normal volume, “I would love…that.” He can’t stop grinning from ear to ear. “I would really really like that.”

The End

@them-awesome-rarepairs

#nicobaster #shadowmagic #reyrae #reyna/rachel #nico di angelo #alabaster torrington #alabaster c torrington #coffee shop au #pjo fanfiction #my writing #pjo rare pair week 2023 #pjo rarepair week 2023 #fluff

[myshredda]

Hi again, I'm the anon that asked about names and I'm working on my thing, but I've been rewatching both seasons a ton to get characterization right and oh my god. I finally get the implications at the end of Love. Do you have any fluffy headcanons to distract me bc I'm lowkey freaked out right now lmao. I will never be able to look at Shrignold the same again oh my god

Hello! Glad to hear you're still working on your fic 🥰 I hope it's going well! And yes. The love episode... the one with the catchiest song and the creepiest undertones :/ (I don't think there's concrete vibes of what's supposed to be 'implied' tbh, i think it's mainly commentary on how cults can prey on the venerable with a weird fucking unnerving bit at the end for some good gore/shock value shots, or at least that's what i'm telling myself to feel better lol)

A lot of my fluffier headcanons are already in a couple of my fics or are being kicked around on this blog!

Duck cooks the most (based on his curry and the lovely chicken picnic) in my AU specifically he's started to cook more carb-y foods because he wants to make sure they're all eating enough, much like a grandma immediately feeding you the second you step foot in the house, it's how he shows love

Red is the designated tall person and is always the one that has to get things down from high places. He'll also take things away from the other two and stash them up high if they're annoying him or fighting over something, and will leave it up there until everyone's calmed down

Due to the significant lack of lips in this family they can't really 'kiss' each other so Red's taken to headbutting as a form of endearment (which is something I do!) and will kind of press his forehead onto the other persons and leave it there. Duck pretends not to like it but he loves it. Yellow loves it so much he gets excited and will accidentally headbutt the others at like 1000 miles an hour and potentially knock himself and the other person out

Duck specifically preens the others as a form of endearment, and he loves playing with the other's hair in the way birds preen other bird's feathers. He'll help Red get knots and things out of his yarn and he likes to fiddle with Yellow's hair if he thinks it's too messy (all while scolding them for looking sloppy of course)

(sometimes he'll nibble at them with his beak if he's feeling especially lovey-dovey, it's all very adorable)

(Yellow really REALLY loves it when he does that and just shrieks with laughter the whole time)

Red and Duck's love language is bickering and bitching at each other, all in a very passive aggressive british way of course. Very much old married couple vibes there, but in a way where they'll tell each other to shut the fuck up with love and then make dinner together while drinking wine or whatever it is old men do

Duck and Yellow also like to bicker with each other and make jokes, Yellow loves to call Duck old because he gets all pissy about it and Duck will make him do extra chores as punishment for being disrespectful but will usually help out if he thinks Yellow is being too slow (which he always does) This relationship is heavily based on the relationship I have with my mother, everything's a joke and we're always talking shit until it isn't and then it's all love

Also 100% my mother would bite me and give me rabies if I was pissing her off I don't think that affects Duck's parental status that's like normal and also they're british so....

Red is a HUGE snuggler, especially in my AU where he's getting chubbier and learning to be happy. He uses his bigger size to kind of pounce on whoever he wants to hug and squeeze them and shake them around because he can't contain or verbalize how much he cares about them

If Yellow has any trouble sleeping he just crawls into one of the other's beds (he's in the middle so it's usually 50/50 who he'll go to) and immediately steals the blankets and puts his cold feet on their legs. The other two are usually don't care (red) or claim they're too tired to move him (but actually doesn't mind that much) (duck)

They all stim. Duck rocks in his chair or flaps his wings, Red hums and fiddles with whatever's in his hands, Yellow kicks his feet and flaps his hands, he also has the tendency to dance around when he's happy.

Yellow would 100% be that kid that loves Minecraft and slime

He tries to make slime one time and gets it caught in Red's yarn and cries his eyes out because he thinks it's going to make Red bald and bald people scare him

Duck makes Red wash his head in the sink and somehow gets it all out and then Yellow cries more because he's happy Red isn't going to be bald

Duck 100% watches old lady british soap operas and BBC murder series like Midsomer Murders or Vera or Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries (Australian but whatever)

Yellow watches kids tv shows on PBS or HBO Family, Documentary series about animals (or any other NPR smart people show) the news, numbers stations, and british morning talkshows

Red watches whatever is on tv that the other two want to watch and I feel like he probably likes to watch footy

they all love each other very much because I SAID SO

#also if i felt like being an evil wench i would say duck keeps yellow well fed because subliminally he doesn't want to be eaten again >:0) #ALSO ALSO I like to watch british gameshows like 8 out of 10 cats or taskmaster to watch how funnie british people interact with each other #i like to think that Duck acts like david mitchell Red acts like alex horne and Yellow acts like roisin conaty (very loosely) #long post #YOU SLY DOG YOU GOT ME MONOLOGUING #my posts #my askbox

[moonbake]

Haru Kurosawa | Imagine... A Blind Date | AOT/SNK

Erwin Smith || Art Museum || word count: 4.1k || (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ SFW

Haru is leaning on a tall light pole, standing near the entrance of her apartments, her doll-sized handbag resting on the bench as she adjusts her knee-high black boots. I don’t know why I wore these; they’re going to be so loud.  It wasn’t like her to fret about how she looked, but this date was different from her others, it’s a blind date.

Her best friend Hange Zöe wanted to cheer her up after losing her art internship. Not that she could argue with them since they live together. Haru had to promise Hanji she wouldn’t look up anything on Erwin Smith, the CEO of a Survey Freedoms, Inc. a security company that handles relocations and safety to the needy.

As promising as that sounds, not really her thing. The only reason she agreed to the date is because Hanji had already set the thing up. She’d much rather be in her room painting away while her cat Moon watches from the balcony.

Instead, here she is standing in her black turtleneck tucked into a plaid high-waisted skirt. I should’ve grabbed a coat. Her boots aren’t high-heeled, though she was warned to wear her tall ones. Whatever that means, she’s been with tallboys before, nothing new to her. It's cute to see how flustered she’s getting over this date.

She looks at the older gentleman, Bill the doorman. “No need to be nervous,” he smiles.

Haru sighs, “is it that obvious? I was hoping to play it off...” she decides to pull her hair up into a bun, trying her best to contain her thick black waves.

“My advice? Be wildly honest. Hold nothing back.”

“Alright, duly noted... thanks Bill,” Haru chuckles.

“That’s why me and my wife are still married, misses told me I was too piggish when I watched movies, and you know what?”

“What?”

“Bless her. Wanted to prove her wrong with movie nights and well, been doing for the last thirty years,”

Haru smiles, “how is she doing by the way?”

“Just fine,” Bill opens the door for guests coming into the building, welcoming them and returning his attention to Haru, “she’s out of town, visiting the grandkids.”

Before she can reply, a Rolls-Royce Phantom pulls up and stops. Expecting the driver to come out, the back doors reveal a pair of long legs stepping out in tan slacks, with a pair of brown leather shoes. All pulled together by the very tall gentlemen wearing a white button up shirt and wool mix waistcoat. Topped off with a small, emerald bolo tie.

His sky-blue eyes paralyzing Haru causes her knees to lock up. His intense gaze turns soft, putting his hand out to shake, “are you Haru Kurosawa?” She quickly looks back to Bill, who nods and gives a discreet (stamp of approval) thumbs-up between the two.

All Haru can manage to do is nod, “I’m Erwin Smith, Hange failed to mention how formal this would be, I’m a bit of a mess,” a mess? If he’s a mess then I’m the queen of slobs, she thought as her eyes darted to his arms, the fabrics looking ready to tear as it struggles to stretch against his large, thick biceps.

She looks back not even realizing Erwin gaze on her, cheeks flushing against her will. “You’re fine, I’m mean I tend to overdress,” boo no Haru own it! “Well, you know, it’s not a date without boots, which by the looks of it, maybe I should’ve worn my taller pair.”

Erwin chuckles, “you look lovely, putting me to shame honestly,” She finally takes Erwin’s large, yet gentle hand, as he motions to the car, “shall we?”

The car ride is filled with the familiar get-to-know-you questions, mostly it seemed like Erwin trying to get Haru to speak up more. Not that she didn’t want to, if anything, she was finding it exciting to listen to him speak away about his work, friends, and what he likes to do—which is rare as not many men really grab her attention. Especially corporate ones.

“So, where exactly are we going?”

Erwin chuckles, “to be honest, Hanji set this all up, even I’m in the dark” he grabs his coat, removing the lint as best he can. “They told me you’re an artist,”

“Not a very good one,” Haru semi-jokes, be confident not wimpy, she waves her hands, “currently I’m an art teacher over at the school nearby my apartments,”

“That’s amazing,” he dropped his coat to his lap, turning his attention to her, “what do you normally draw?” he asked, this time leaning on her every movement.

“Landscapes mostly, I’d like to become a concept artist, but portfolio building is very time consuming, to say the least,” she didn’t want to go into detail about failing the internship. What makes it more painful is getting to the last round of interviews... only to lose to someone close to the president of the program. The industry, am I right? 

“I’d love to see your art,” he said bring her back to reality, “or at least, whatever you’ve willing to show me,” a soft smile absorbed his face, with a spark in his eye.

“Really?” She can’t help but smile at his response, “that’s sweet of you,”

“I’d be happy to even look at your portfolio—”

Haru shakes her head at his ambition, what a sweet boy, “trust me, it’s all over the place, I’d much rather show you something else,” she quickly overthinks what she last said, cheeks burning up, “not like that! I-I mean, not to insult you or anything! Cause we were talking about my art and all.” Shut. Up. Her thoughts shake her, only to her surprise, the car isn’t silent.  

Erwin can’t help but chuckle, his endearing laughs causes Haru to lighten up. Suddenly, she’s beginning to feel comfortable around the intimidating figure, he isn’t like him... he’s light-hearted. She shakes thoughts of him away, but then out of the dark, like a crack of a whip, “That’s a shame,” Erwin’s bold voice murmurs, adding to the tension between the two, “I better play my cards right then”

Her heart flutters, causing her to dry swallow. Her legs pull together, clenching so hard it squeezes her pleasures away. Before she can reply, the car comes to a stop. The two look out the window at the destination Hange so cleverly picked out for them.

 “No, they did not!” Not even waiting for anyone to open her door, Haru leaps out of the car. It’s the Art Museum she had been boring Hanji about, they had new exhibits she’d been dying to see like the Yoshitomo Nara one, and the Van Gogh, even her personal favorite type of style, the artpop corner!

Erwin can’t help but admire her spunk, grabbing her bag before tipping the driver. As he leaves the car, his eyes are locked on her pear-shaped frame, it’s very hard for him to respectfully stare. It’d be easier if her skirt wasn’t hugging her hips, a major weakness for him.

“Can’t forget this.” he lightly taps Haru’s shoulder with her bag. She chuckles, using it to hide her blushing.

“I’ve got to thank Hanji for this,” she said as Erwin easily slips his coat on. “You really had no idea about this?”

Erwin smiles, “believe me, I’d be taking credit if I did.”

“Guess I chewed their ear off about this place enough,” Haru looks back to Erwin, “I’d get it if this isn’t your type of thing, rather go do something else,”

He frowns, “are you kidding?” he looks to the museum and takes a deep breath, “this place is full of history, I’m a sucker for that,”

“Good thing art and history go hand and hand,” she said as she stared walking ahead.

Clearing his throat, Erwin smirks, “you have no idea.”

After buying their tickets, the two wander inside the chilly, brightly lit space. Haru is jumping in place like an eager kid, ready to throw herself into the exhibits. Psst! Control yourself, hot dilf standing next to you! She takes a deep breath to calm herself.

Erwin who’s looking at a pamphlet, looks unreal (and not just because of his height) his sharp jawline and strong brows pull it all together, screaming dominance... why did that come to me? She thought as she makes her way towards him.

“Where to first?” she asks.

Erwin looks puzzled, “no-no, it’s where you want to go, I’ll follow.” Except to his surprise, she shakes her head at what he just said, replying with, “want me to pick?”

She nods, “of course, lead the way commander.” she murmurs as she gets closer to him, looking down at the same pamphlet he is, only this time the tension between the two is thicc and oh so electrifying as she takes in his strong aroma of sandalwood and after-work coffee. Haru prefers tea but can’t help herself from taking deeper breaths as she’s close to Erwin.

On the other hand, it’s taking everything in Erwin’s power not to compliment her sweet honey-rose scent, like a flower protected by a hive, forbidden. As she’s busy looking over the map, the turtleneck is highlighting her jaw and clinging tightly to her chest. He snaps his head, and look to his right, cheeks flustering, “let’s go this way.”

He offers his strong arm out, and without hesitation, Haru takes it. She’s holding on tighter, absorbing his warmth as she's feeling him flex through the coat, he’s going to rip it if he keeps this up.

They first walk into the German Expressionism exhibit, pieces of art that were saved from being destroyed. Some of them are straightforward, with subjects of farms and people, but as they slowly walk through the art, it turns into an expressive nightmare showing the true horrors.

Though they were chatting away in the car before, here, the two are nearly silent as they take in the art. Only the chatters in the background and their soft breathing can be heard. If anything, Erwin is occasionally looking over at Haru who’s completely lost in the art. Her round, fern-green eyes carefully soaking in the work, occasionally peaking in the corner catching him.

“When did you decide you wanted to be an artist?” he asks.

She shrugs, “when my parents were busy working, I didn’t have any siblings growing up, so I had to keep myself busy, had to put my energy somewhere since I sucked at sports,”

He chuckles, “sounds like your parents were alright with it then?” he said, keeping his attention on her.

“Mmmm... yes and no.” Haru pulls away from Erwin, feeling her stomach turn at the thought of her family. It’s been sometime since she’s talked with them. Not her favorite topic.

Erwin clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stir things.” His calm demeanor allows Haru to weakly smile, giving his arm a light squeeze.

“Believe me, it takes a lot to rattle my cage, besides,” she looks over her shoulder to more Expressionism pieces, “not letting my family ruin this date.” She grabs onto him and attempts to pull him along. Only, Erwin stature isn’t just for show, it’s nearly impossible for her to move the muscular man without nearly tripping.

He can’t help but chuckle at her size, if he really wanted, it’d be so easy to pick her off the ground with just one arm really. Instead, he allows her to pull him along, feeling excited at her holding onto him. Haru's cute personality held a charm of fatality. Another weak point.

“Tell me, how did you get into security?” She asked, trying to take the heat off her as the two get closer. Her leg accidentally brushes against his, finally causing Erwin to burn up, almost embarrassed at the fact he can’t hold his composure. “If I’m making you uncomfortable—”

“Absolutely not.” He reassures, moving his hand to hers. For large ones, she expected it to hold such strength, but even she could tell he was holding himself back, his thick fingers brushing over her knuckles like blades of leaves falling from trees.

“And to answer your question,” he clears his throat, “it’s been something on my mind since I was kid, guess you can say it sparked my curiosity for the world.” Erwin falls silent, looking at one of the pieces, “it’s funny, when you mentioned being an art teacher, I thought of my father, he was a teacher like you.”

“That’s awesome, what did he teach?”

Erwin expression grows solemn, looking at the art ahead of them and giving her hand a light squeeze, “general studies, he knew his history.” The piece showed a town with people running down a twisted path, only cools and whites were plastered on the painting.

Not wanting to delve down the same conversation she avoided, Haru easily rest her head against his bulging bicep. She can pick up on Erwin tone, going from welcoming to lost, way to brighten to mood, she throws at herself.

Erwin smiles, “Why do you create?”

“Huh?”

“Art. Your art, how come you create?” he asks, this time shifting so he faces her. Yet to Haru, this adds more pressure as he towers over her. Good lord Hange was right about the heels. Yet, the soft eyes reflect more than just herself, it’s the first time she really has insight into someone—so no bullshit when it comes to Erwin Smith.

“I suppose at first it was to distract from everything,” she takes a deep breath, getting really honest with herself, “but ever since I’ve been working with the kids, it feels like there’s this new sense of freedom, I don’t know,” she cuts herself off, pulling away from him as she walks off to the next exhibit: Vincent van Gogh. The variety of paintings from Van Gogh are ranging, and yet, all share the same melting expression of self-portraits. “I know, it sounds weird.”

“I like weird,” Erwin catches up, leaning in and whispering, “try me.” In a low tone that sends chills down Haru’s back. Yet... so inviting. She looks over at the figure with tears, the Weeping Women with Handkerchief (1927) On one hand, it looks like Sally from Nightmare before Christmas. One knows easily this piece is something from the mind of Van Gogh depicting despair and pain.

“You can say I’m healing my inner child by creating pieces I like; these kids are so free with their work and not a care in the world. It spreads to me.” she sighs, scratching at her head, knowing full well her cheeks are on fire as she adjusts her turtleneck. “I like having this not as an escape but as something I want to get lost in, if that... makes sense.”

Haru’s too afraid to look at Erwin, “it makes perfect sense,” his steps echoing, leaning close to her ear “in fact, I find it incredibly hard for me not to admire your passion for art. It’s beautiful on you.”

Oh god no, the words melt on her shoulders and down her legs causing them to grow weak, clenching between her thighs. A grin grows on her face as she finally turns to Erwin, who also has a smirk on his face—holding his arm out for her to take. Haru runs her hand down his arm, slipping her slender fingers through his.

They make their way through the large Van Gogh exhibit as the two-grow lost in one another, continuing to ask questions about their favorite foods, where they’d travel to, and the most important question, cats or dogs?

“I’d have to say I’m more of a dog person,” he said, barely paying attention to the art anymore. “I have a German Shepard at home.”

“How old?” Haru asks as they stop at Nara make-shift work studio. A recreation of their artist space that looks a lot like Haru’s, nothing but papers, markers, and colors scattered about.

“Four weeks old, I got Bandit from a friend.” he says. She pokes her head into the space, “Hopefully you can meet him soon.” He casually drops. Haru looks back at Erwin, admiring his smirk. “Shouldn’t have assumed that” he lightly shrugs, “not that I’ll take it back.”

She smiles, turning her attention back to the gentle giant, “I tend to stay away from your type, but I have to admit, the suit is a good look,” Haru can’t stand her hair up any longer, the strain on her scalp is too much. So, she unleashes it.

And to no surprise, Erwin eyes are lost in her incredibly long hair that runs down to her lower back, nearly stopping right above her hips. “Says the angel.”

He did not just call me that—They both freeze, Erwin quickly clears his throat and waves a hand as Haru heart flutters all over her insides, unable to control the blood rush.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” he said. Haru grabs his shaky hand, pressing it against neck. Her heart beating like crazy, making it easy for him to feel her warm pulsing beat.

“I liked it.” She whispered, “so don’t stop...?”

Erwin smirks, “Anything for you.”

As they exit the museum, the sunny sky is now a purplish-blue with stars beginning to poke out. Winds are brushing past Haru as her hair floats about. She feels more alive than when she went in. Not wanting the night to end, she holds onto herself, unable to wipe the smile off.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see the other exhibits?” He asks as he offers his hand out. Haru shakes her head, taking his hand as she attempts to pull him down a sidewalk.

“And miss the best part? Come on, before the sun completely sets—” Not arguing Erwin follows with, but Haru being Haru, as she tries being playful and pulling on him, ends up taking a misstep and rolling her ankle. “Ow!” Smoooooth Haru...

Of course, as she braces for the ground, a pair of arms easily grab onto her. A sense of stability and strength that’s firing up her heart.  “Are you okay?” he asks, his thumb rubbing circles.

Despite all the pain, it was hard for her to not catch her breath as he towers over her. The concern in his eyes gave her butterflies. She nuzzles her face into his chest, not wanting him to see how red she's gotten. “That’s what I get for trying to lead you around.”

He chuckles, his hands moving from her arms to her back, “Believe me, I’ll follow you wherever you need me.” He pulls away to give Haru space, but as she tries to take a step, she winces. “Where does it hurt?”

Before she can answer, Erwin kneels, moving her hands to his shoulder as he grabs her leg. It’s hard to control her shaky legs as his fingers trace along with her boot, “here?” he asks, pointing at her ankle as he looks up.

Oh, good lord and heaven have mercy on my quivering insides.

All Haru can manage is an uneasy nod, Erwin sighs, looking to a nearby bench. “Here, I’ve got you.” He sweeps Haru off her feet, causing giggles as he grabs onto her ticklish sides.

“I’m sorry for this,” she frowns, “I’m such a mess.”

He smirks, “a hot one, if I may add.” Erwin sets her on the bench, carefully taking her boot off to show a puffy ankle.

“Again, there’s a reason why I’m an artist and not a sports master.”

“Don’t you—” he chuckles, “I see what you mean.”

Haru sighs, “maybe we should just call it a night,” her ankle is making it impossible to walk, and even with a young night now she has to worry about getting home and nursing the damn thing. I just wanted a glass of wine and watch Gracie and Frank. She tries to stand up with Erwin holding her hand, but can’t hold her stance. “I can barely walk.”

“Not a problem,” Erwin smirks, kissing her hand before motioning to his back. “I’ll carry you.”

She looks down to her skirt, “Erwin—” but to her surprise, he’s tying his coat around her waist, why is he so damn charming? “You don’t have to do this, really.”

He kisses her hand again, radiating confidence that even is inspiring her. “Trust me, it’ll be fun, only if you’re comfortable with it.”

She nods, “... okay.” Her fragile voice manages to get out.

 “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, she gulps. “Come on, hop on.”

There’s a lot more I want to hop onto... she thinks as she grabs on, putting her arms around his shoulder as he hooks his on her legs. In one swift motion, he stands tall and shifts her on his back. Doesn’t even sound like he’s struggling.

She nuzzles her face against the crook of his neck, “thanks.” She murmurs as he walks down the trail.

“Lead the way?” He asks, with the sakura and wisteria trees about, the smell of floral is in the air. She uses her head, motioning to his right where the tall light post highlight sculptures.

It’s funny, even some bugs are flying to Haru as they mistaken her perfume for pollen. Erwin can’t help but chuckle as her grip tightens, squealing whenever a bug flies into her hair. In fact, he had to stop to carefully pull out a butterfly that got trapped in her wavy locks.

“Where are we going?” Erwin asks, squeezing her thigh.

“Do you trust me?” she shivers, “it’s a surprise.” He picks up on her chattering teeth, noticing that even it’s getting chilly for him. The night sky revealing itself as the sun is hiding away, “I promise, we can go after this, besides,” Haru grabs on tighter. “I’m really liking this view,”

Erwin laughs, “Believe it or not, I know someone taller than me.”

“Is that even possible?” she chuckles, rubbing her cheek against his strong jaw.

He takes a deep breath, “I didn’t think someone could make me feel small—"

“There!” She points out. They finally arrive at the edge point, a view of the entire city, but it’s the way the glow behind the building cast colors that aren't normally there.

“I love coming out here when I’m having bad days, something about running up the hill to capture this view is... rewarding.”

“When you’re not spraining your ankle, right?” he jokes, giving her thigh another squeeze. Using her position to her advantage, Haru uses both of her thighs to squeeze Erwin. "It's my sanctuary."

He lowers her down, trying his best to keep his composure but can’t help her audacity of teasing him.

“So, this is what you wanted to show me.” Erwin surprised at her honesty, is taken back when he turns to see the biggest smile plastered across her face. He’s lost in the multitude of the golden hour colors casting its light on Haru.

But that’s not the only thing he’s stuck on, quickly darting to her pouty-lips and back to her eyes. It’s too much for him to hold his composure any longer. “Haru, can I kiss you?” She nods.

Erwin runs his hands under her chin, leaning down and carefully pulling her lips in for a kiss, but he’s slow enough to allow Haru to claim her own path and meet him halfway.

Yet as soon as those lips hit, it’s like a symphony of fluid motion coming together. Grabbing onto his shirt to close the gap between them, Haru runs her hand up to his back.

His coat drops to the ground, but that’s the least of their worries as Erwin moves a hand to the lowers of her back, giving her support as she practically melts in his grip. His hefty fingers enjoying her hair like running through grass.

She tries to grab his coat, but Erwin kicks it aside, his kiss growing passionate yet playful. Occasionally biting at her lower lip to remind her of pain and pleasure.  It’s like he’s unraveling everything he pent up since the beginning of the date. Respectfully, he stops, leaning his head against her.

Haru is lost in trying to catch her breath as her heart is racing, a champion’s smile plastered across her face as her terra cotta lipstick is smeared all over Erwin’s lips.

“Please, let me take you out again.”

Author’s note: ah! this is my first post in YEARS, haven’t done fics since hs. So enjoy! I based this on my visit to LACMA last year.

I’m sorry for the delay, I’m trying to find my writing style again (so if there are typos... my bad.) A head injury is the worst and it's been fun to write these. Many more to come!

On Twitter @ /moonbake_ updates on scheduling & more goodies ★~(◡﹏◕✿)

#aot #snk #aot snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x oc #snk x oc #haru #erwin smith #erwin snk #erwin aot #erwin attack on titan #erwin fluff #erwin smith fluff #sfw #attack on titan x oc #shingeki no kyojin x oc #aot boys #hange zoë #hanji zoë #fanfic #fanfiction #blind date #haru series #moonbake aot #creative writing #writrblr #modern au

[mindninjax]

Iron and Wine (3)

Chapter 3- Lovely Bitter Water

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Erwin Smith x fem!reader (Royalty AU)

Warnings: Erwin can't keep his fucking hands to himself, sexual tension, some dirty talk, nightmares,

WC: 3.5K

a/n: Be wary of the warnings on this one just in case anyone is uncomfortable with it. But This chapter contains humor and sexual tension and by far was my favorite chapter to write so far.

The high stone ceiling peels away above you to show the sky. It is clear and dark, save for a thousand twinkling lights, the souls of those you’ve lost shining down upon you. You blink, once, twice, as the wind tickles your skin and dances merrily through your hair. There is a warm pale glow above you and your mind is wandering into the cosmos as you feel a pair of cool lips on your forehead. A glowing ball of white light beckons to you as you sit up and gaze around the swaying tall grass around you.

This is a dream.

You stand, the dress you’re wearing swaying with the wind like a synchronized dance. The air smells clean and fresh, like the trees back home. You take a step forward, smiling to yourself and basking in the white light shining down on you. The moon sits large on the horizon across the field you’re in and fills you with joy as you skip freely toward it. You laugh and it rings out into the field like a carol of bells.

You’re stopped in your tracks as a large white hoof stomps in front of you. The ground shakes from the impact and you can see it start to crumble. You look up and there is a beast with the face of a goat and the body of a man sitting atop the saddle. It’s eyes are blacker than an abyss, staring at you blankly. They’re cold, sucking the very life from you.

Suddenly the wind stops and it is deathly silent. The air no longer smells fresh and clean but reeks of rotten flesh. You whip your head around fear creeping up the back of your neck as the clear night sky forms dark stormy clouds above your head. The sky bursts open with an ear splitting crack and wailing misery from above can be heard. It is earth shattering, rumbling the world and making your ears bleed.

Horrific images flash before your eyes in quick succession. Animals' skin and bone disintegrate in his presence. When he dismounts from his horse the land dies beneath his feet and when he takes a step blood stains the earth.

You scream but the sound is stolen and swallowed by the darkness he brings. The last thing you see before it takes over you completely, is the beast opening his mouth, a sinister crooked smile on his lips as he utters the words “I have come and with me I bring death.”

You awake with a gasp and shoot up in the large bed. Your vision is blurred as the remnants of the dream fade away and the bright morning light breaks through the haze. It takes you a few minutes to recognize your surroundings, but it comes flying back to you when you see Historia lying peacefully next to you in bed.

You are in the wolf king’s castle, acting as what he refers to as a “guest” when really you are his prisoner. Historia helped you take a bath last night, washed your hair and dressed you in a light but extravagant sleeping gown. When it was time to retire for the night, she’d bowed to you and asked to be excused. Remembering how fond she was of the room, you’d suggested she stay here with you and sleep. It might’ve been a bit selfish on your part, her presence was calming and her soft breath next to your ear was the only thing that lulled you into slumber.

But that dream almost certainly was a warning. You’d prayed for clarity before you went to sleep and the Mother provided. However, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t woken up more confused than before. What was she trying to tell you? If Erwin Smith was in fact the enemy, the bringer of destruction and death, why did Her whispers stay your blade?

You shut your eyes tightly, put your index finger and thumb together while intertwining your other fingers and kiss the tip before bowing your head. “Forgive me Mother. I do not understand what it is I’m supposed to do. Erwin Smith is the enemy, so how do I stop him and save your children?” You whisper quietly under your breath.

A bubbling warmth pools in your gut when you think about the Wolf King and you don’t like the way it makes your heart thrum in your chest like a caged bird. You don’t understand what part he’s to play, whether you should trust him or not. But one thing is for certain, The Mother does not want him dead. You roll your eyes before getting off the bed and walking to the window to open the heavy curtains and let in the sun’s warmth.

Historia still sleeps peacefully on the bed, her even breathing occasionally interrupted by soft snores. You smile as you watch her, curled up on the bed, innocent and lovely. Perhaps you were wrong to think you couldn’t trust any of the people in the castle. As you watch the bustling people below from the window, you take a deep breath and make your decision. The only people who have actually shown you their true selves are Erwin and the little dog he keeps next to him. Which means, the only ones you have to distrust right now are those two. It would make for an easier time if you were being forced to stay here.

Then it’s settled, you’ll be cordial to the others and keep your guard up around Erwin and his knight. He may think you’ll agree to his plan, but you won’t. The fact that you can’t kill him is bothersome but you can definitely take this time to learn more about how he rules and bring that viable information back to your people.

Two quick knocks on the door draw your eyes away from the people below and your body instantly crouches into defense. You shake your head, trying to break the automatic defensive edge that is built into your character. Cordial and pleasant. That’s what you need to be. A nervous voice on the other side of the door calls out.

“Good Morning my lady, King Erwin demands your presence in the council room.”

You squint your eyes in frustration. Demands?

You wrench the door open to see the tall farm pup man standing before you. He jumps a bit at the sudden swing of the door and his eyes drift down your body before he turns red and looks away nervously. You don’t realize how thin the garment you’re wearing is. Your nipples bead in the cool air in the chamber and a breeze flows through your legs making it cling to your curves. You smile a little to yourself at his obvious embarrassment.

“You’re one of the knights he sent to stand outside my door, yes? To make sure I don’t run off?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

He still doesn’t look at you, but nods his head and says “Yes my lady.”

“I see, and you are Ser…?”

“Moblit my lady. Umm if you don’t mind me saying, maybe you would feel more comfortable in more appropriate attire? The King is demanding I escort you to the council chamber at once,” he says again.

You study him for a bit. He’s cute with warm trusting eyes. You can tell he’s not faking how nervous he seems to be around you but if you were to guess why Erwin would keep someone like him around, he’s probably levelheaded on the battlefield. You do raise your eyebrow in frustration at his use of the word “demands” again but you clear your throat and look at him.

“Well, thank you for guarding the door Ser Moblit,” you say bowing to him.

You smile brightly at him as he’s caught off guard by your pleasant attitude. He blushes again when you complete the bow and gaze back into his large brown eyes. You can hear Historia yawning and waking up behind you. You hear her little gasp as she jumps out of bed and runs to the door, mortified at the way you’re dressed in front of Moblit.

“You can’t just answer the door dressed like that! It’s indecent!” she squeaks, trying to cover you as you laugh warm heartedly at her. The last thing you say to him before Historia pulls you back into the room and shuts the door is “Please tell the King to get fucked in the ass by his horse before he demands anything of me again.”

Erwin lifts his clear eyes from the scroll of parchment at the sound of the heavy doors opening. The sound echoes loudly around the room creating a grand entrance. He stops scribbling and peaks an eyebrow when he sees only one person entering the council room. Moblit clears his throat uncomfortably as he approaches. All eyes are on him as he bows respectfully avoiding the King’s gaze.

Erwin speaks calmly, no hint of frustration in his voice. “Moblit, why is my guest not with you?”

Moblit bows again before responding, “My apologies sire, she...refused to come.”

“Really now? Did she give a reason why?” He asks as if he’s unbothered with the disobedience.

“N..no sire.”

Erwin smiles to himself, thumping his long fingers on the large wooden table. Of course you wouldn’t come. This is exactly what he expected. If you had shown up, that would’ve been too easy and not your style. “Not giving a reason certainly doesn’t sound like something the silver tongued little lioness would do. Come, tell me her words.”

“S..she requested that your majesty… ahem… be fucked in the ass by your horse,” Moblit stutters and shifts his eyes and it looks like it physically pains him to say this to his King. The room goes silent, Hange tries to keep a snicker in, Levi growls underneath his breath, and the others watch Erwin carefully.

He looks back down to his parchment and continues scribbling. “Nifa.” He says not looking up as he continues to write. Nifa jumps at the sound of her name. She sits in the corner of the room, large rolls of parchment are draped over the side of the small table she sits at. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Is there anything on the roster after sunset?”

Nifa shuffles through the parchment as her eyes scan over the schedule. “No, Your Grace.”

“Excellent. Please add ‘fuck my horse’ to the roster for just after nightfall. Thank you.”

Hange’s snicker erupts into laughter as Nifa scribbles in the addition and Erwin smirks to himself.

You sit in front of the large vanity mirror, the candles dripping wax down the candle holder. You stare into the fire, daydreaming of leaving this place as the last remnants of sunlight become swallowed by the horizon. You’ve been cooped up in this room all day, refusing all who came to the door with food and gifts of clothes from the King.

“I still can’t believe you told Ser Moblit to tell the King that. I’ve never heard anyone speak like that about His Highness,” Historia says nervously as she brushes your hair. You’re holding a silver goblet full of wine that was brought up to your room, a peace offering, the woman who’d given it to you said. It wouldn’t be here if not for Historia asking to sample it. It’s true you’ve taken a very intense liking to Historia. She truly feels like your only friend here.

You sniff the wine and wrinkle your nose in disgust. It smells processed and fake, not at all like the wine Carla makes back home. Erwin must think you a fool. As if you’d drink something he’d present to you as a gift. It could be poisoned.

You set the cup down as Historia moves to braid intricate little braids at the crown of your head and let the rest flow freely down your back.

“Well, you’ve never left this castle. Outside these walls, the people don’t speak fondly of your king,” you scold her.

“Why not? King Erwin has done nothing but help me since he found me in my village,” she says seriously.

“What do you mean?” You turn around to gaze at her in confusion. It has occurred to you that you haven’t asked her anything about herself and it saddens you. Your gaze softens as you look at her and she smiles her bright smile at you before a firm knock on your door makes the both of you jump.

“Don’t,” she says, putting a hand in front of you to stop you from moving. “We don’t need a repeat of this morning. You probably almost killed Moblit. Put this on I’ll get the door for you,” she says handing you a silk robe to cover the thin nightgown you wear.

You chuckle as she walks to the door and opens it warily. You hear her squeak in surprise and turn to see her bowing lowly and Erwin pushing the door open and stepping into the room. You stand quickly, pulling the robe up over your arms and glaring as he enters.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says warmly to Historia. She blushes and shakes her head quickly, her blonde locks hitting her cheeks.

“No, Your Grace. My lady was just getting ready to sleep for the night,” she replies, still holding the door, face full of shock.

Erwin’s eyes rake up and down your figure and he smiles that cocksure smile he’s famous for. “Yes, I can see that. Historia, would you mind giving me and the Lioness a moment of privacy?” he asks, bending down to take her hand into both of his.

You’re steaming, grinding your teeth as you watch Historia’s face grow pink and she nods wordlessly to him. “No! Historia stays with me. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of her.” You step between her and the door and she looks nervously between you and him. He gives her a knowing look and she scurries past you, whispering in your ear quickly. “I’ll be back when he leaves.”

When she closes the door quietly behind her, you glare up at Erwin who continues smiling warmly at you. “I see you’re not a fan of the wine I had sent up for your pleasure,” he says walking to the vanity and picking up the goblet. He takes a sip, then closes his eyes and relishes in the sweet taste. “This is the best wine in the entire kingdom, made specifically for the King.” You curl your lip up in disgust.

“It tastes that way. Like it was only meant to please you. It lacks the care, the love for the vine and fruit that you would be able to taste in each sip,” you explain, rolling your eyes. Not like he would understand anyway. A spoiled king with servants to do his every bidding would never understand the time and care it takes to produce good wine.

“Hmm I suppose it does,” he says, eyeing you curiously. You can tell he’s enjoying this, the way his sneaky sapphire eyes move slowly up your body, lingering on the spread of your hips and the curve of your breast. You turn away from him in disgust.

“Why are you here?”

He feigns shock, eyes growing wide and he puts a hand to his chest. “Why, my lady, I thought you summoned me here. Surely I didn’t misinterpret Moblit’s message.”

Confusion floods your face as you squint and question his sanity. “Are you mad? I told Ser Moblit no such thing,” you say, shaking your head.

“Hmm, I thought for sure being fucked by my own horse was some kind of coded message. It is quite sudden I will admit but I have had many who crave me and I will not tell a lie, I am fascinated by what is beneath your lovely gown,” he says casually walking over to stand in front of you and smile down smugly.

You can feel your face heating at the insinuation. As if you’d ever invite him to your room, least of all for that. You sputter a bit before quickly retorting, “Is that what you tell all the women you try to seduce into a pact with you? I am not that weak and I have met many who were worth craving.”

You see the shock flash across his face and return his smug smile. His expression turns dark then and he lowers his voice and moves so close to you that you can smell the lingering scent of the wine he sipped.

“Do not continue to insult me. Your snide comments are only as entertaining as I continue to allow them to be. You would’ve been dead a long time ago were it not for the way I enjoy your tongue sliding over your lips while you say them,” he breathes and the warmth envelops you and makes your head a bit dizzy.

You keep your composure though, opting to continue to tease and make him as uncomfortable as he made you. You’re determined to expose his weakness and walk out of this castle vowing to destroy him and everything he holds dear.

“A shame that even the great Wolf King can be brought to his knees by a woman,” you reply sarcastically.

“Forgive me, but you are mistaking a fleeting lust-filled gaze for something more. I shall not kill you until we’ve come to an agreement, that or...I have at least tasted you upon my lips. And once I have—and I will one day—the fascination will cease. But until then, enjoy your stay in my castle and please read over the document I’ve provided. I am sure it will help with your decision.”

Your hand is itching to slap him across his chiseled jaw. You crane your hand back quickly but he catches it and throws you against the nearest wall. He pins you against it with his large body looming over you, the hand you were about to use to slap him pinned above your head and the other at your side. He tightens his grip on your wrists, a thick muscular thigh wedged between yours, partaking in the warmth radiating from your cunt.

“You’d dare to strike your king?” He grunts in a husky voice as you struggle in his grasp. His breath washes over you again as he cranes his neck down to drink in your scent.

“You are not my king,” you hiss through your teeth.

“Ahh there is the fierceness that makes my cock weep. A true lioness. Breaking you will be the greatest victory I’ve ever tasted. ”

You’re ashamed at how his words affect you. He pushes his thigh ever so slightly up against your folds and you gasp as his cock twitches against your thigh. He stares into your eyes, half lidded as his breathing increases.

His musk strangely reminds you of home, it’s woody and spicy like roasted chestnuts during the Celestial Ides festival. Hints of rose linger around the edges and you try very hard not to be drawn in by it. Your face burns as his eyes shift down to your lips and he leans in to brush his against your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft and he’s very skilled at swiping them against your collarbone and up your jaw in such a way that would have you pleading for more if it were not him. You shudder and hold in the moan that desperately craves to be released before wriggling in his grasp to try and free yourself. Your hand moves to the tiny hidden slit you made in the robe when Historia wasn’t looking.

He moves gently up to your jaw, dragging his lips over your soft skin. He only stops when he feels a cool sharp prick right beneath his rib cage.

“Let. Me. Go. Or I’ll carve out your heart and feed it to your dogs,” you say between clenched teeth and heavy sensual breaths. You push the dagger harder into his side and it pricks through the fabric of his shirt, drawing blood.

He chuckles and releases his hold on you, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender. He pulls a rolled up piece of parchment from the inside of his loose sleeves and places it onto the vanity before saying, “I should’ve known you’d have a weapon hidden on your person. I guess you’ve become a bigger distraction to me than I previously assumed.”

You wipe your neck and face where his lips were in disgust, holding the dagger and crouching ready to spring should he come closer to you.

“Get out. And do not ever touch me again.”

He only smiles a warm hearted smile, as if nothing has happened and walks to the door to open it.

“Until next time, my lady,” and shuts the door quietly behind him.

--

taglist: @lazyezstudy @jeanbeaux @ixwrites @melyannathemaia @forlancasterrr @starstruckkittensweets @charlotteplsdosth @mythical-goth @casspea @saturnalya @neptvnia @mrs-kuroojinguji

Strikethrough means tumblr won’t let me tag! I’m sorry

#erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin smith #erwin x you #iron and wine #marquie writes

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. III

The Royal Series Masterlist

---

"Care to tell me what's on your mind?" Harry asked softly as you sat on his kitchen counter while he made pancakes for a late-night snack, something your nutritionist would've scolded you for. "What happened?"

You stopped swinging your dangling feet, your eyes fixated on the floor. "Had a fight with Granny."

"The Queen?" Harry whispered reluctantly.

You nodded. "We call her Granny,” you said, “Look, Harry," gulping, you looked up at him, "I don't know your intentions and I don't know what the future holds but," you paused, "But I, you know," you shrugged, watching Harry raise an eyebrow at you, egging you to say it.

"You know," Your hands were wild as you spoke, body temperature hot enough to have you fidgeting.

"I really don't." He chuckled.

You groaned, letting your hands fall on your lap. "I like you, alright?!" Harry grinned, turning the stove off before crossing his arms across his chest, facing you.

"And it's so crazy, it feels like that cartoon movie, Frozen, is it? But I feel like I've known you for so long. I've never," you paused again before slumping and letting out a chuckle, "I've never been on a date with someone who didn't talk about my status or family the entire date and you didn't do it all 4 times. I won't blame you if you run off, it's a heavy baggage and now I'm rambling about me liking you and I know I'm going to regret this moment in a few hours bu-"

With his hands cupping your cheeks, Harry interrupted you with his lips on yours. You were still for a moment before allowing yourself to get completely lost into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his were around your waist.

It wasn't until you both needed to breath did you pull away. "My intentions are good." He whispered, slowly opening his eyes.

You nodded, a faint smile on your lips. "Good."

"And I like you, too."

You bit your lip to contain the wide grin, "Good."

"Just good?" He chuckled, leaning down to peck your lips one more time.

"I mean, you're alright." You joked, leaning back to look at him.

Harry rolled his eyes, chuckling nonetheless.

He looked down, before sighing and picking his head up. "So, what now?"

"What?" You asked him quietly.

"What do I do to be with you? What do I need to do to have you?" He asked gently, intently staring into your eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat for a second. Soothingly, you let your hand rest on his cheek. "Nothing," you shook your head. "Just want you as who you are, nothing else."

"But your famil-"

"Will understand." You finished for him. "We're not going to rush anything, alright? I'll let you think. I know, Harry," You nodded with a smile. "I know how hard this is."

And the kiss you both then shared was all the assurance each of you needed.

---

"I'm tired." You groaned, resting your head on the couch beside Meghan, who was soon to be your sister-in-law.

"Oh, hush. You've been picking flowers with us only for 2 hours." She laughed.

"Who picks flowers for 2 hours? They're flowers! All flowers are beautiful." You said, looking at her with your eyebrows raised.

"Not my fault your family's uptight." She said quietly under her breath, raising her eyebrow at you.

"It's your wedding, Markle. Do whatever you want."

"If it weren't for your brother, I probably would've ended up marrying you." She joked, letting her head fall on your shoulder with a tired sigh.

"No, you're too old for me."

She laughed, swatting your arm.

"My gals!" You heard your brother, Har's voice, seeing him enter the room with a grin on his face, his hair tousled on his head. "How was it?" He asked, leaning down to peck Meghan's lips and to press a kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you for helping her, Tiny."

You smiled up at him, "Only helping because I love her."

"Love you, too, baby sis." Meghan dramatically threw her arms around you, squishing you in a hug, making you laugh.

"Any updates?" Your brother asked as he sat on the chair in front of you.

"About?"

"The lad you decided to like who also shares the same name as yours truly. Short hair, green eyes, tall, sings, ca-"

"Woah there, fanboy. Someone did their research." You laughed, eyebrows going up.

"Have to," he shrugged. "Now, answer me, will you?"

"We're taking it slow. Told him to think, let it sink in a couple of days ago. It's a heavy baggage. You'd know." You said, looking at Meghan who nodded.

"It is heavy but if it's meant to be, it falls into place." She assured you, looking at Harry for a moment.

Har nodded, "You're doing it right, Tiny. Granny loves you; she'll learn to accept your choices. She just wants to cling to what she had to do when she was your age, and with Will and I not marrying someone from royal blood or whatever the fuck she calls it, it’s just some added pressure on you. She'll come along."

You sighed, nodding. "I hope so."

---

"Charity conference?" You asked you assistant as you took off your earrings.

"Done." She confirmed, tapping on her iPad.

"The dinner meeting?"

"Done."

"Do I have anything else planned for tonight?" You asked her, turning around and facing her.

"No, you're free for the rest of the night and tomorrow morning. You have dinner with your siblings and Prince Charles tomorrow at 7."

You nodded, "I remember. Thank you so much, Em." You smiled at her, patting her shoulder, "Don't know what I'd do without you."

"Be so lost that you’d be a disgrace of the family?" She giggled, shrugging.

"True." You pointed at her, “But I think I’m already working on that.”

You and Emilie go 4 years back.

She was 22 when she got the job as your assistant and was someone whom you were comfortable around as she wasn't too formal. She was the perfect mix of professionalism and laidback and definitely saved you from embarrassment and trouble countless times.

Your phone rang on your nightstand, making you hurry towards it. You smiled, instantly answering. "Hello?"

"Think I can steal you for the night?"

You glanced at Em who had a teasing smirk on her face, watching you with her arms crossed over her chest. You blushed, turning the other way. "Think you can."

"I'll pick you up from the same place I came to on first date, is that alright?"

"It's perfect, yes."

"Wear something comfortable. I'll see you in 20, love."

"See you." You hung up, looking back at Em, "Stop looking at me like that, you doughnut."

"I'm not looking at you like anything." She shrugged, "In fact I won't look at you like anything at all, I'll just leave."

"I hate you sometimes." You laughed, throwing your fluffed pillow at her, making her laugh and blow you a sarcastic kiss.

You wore your former university's crewneck sweatshirt and leggings before putting on your converse. You took your hair out of the fancy bun it was in, letting it into waves.

A knock startled you, making you face your bedroom door. "Come in!"

The door opened and in came your father, Prince Charles. "Oh, you're going somewhere?"

"I'm just meeting someone, Pa. Is everything alright?" You asked, using the name you loved to use to call him instead of the “daddy” you were raised to say.

He smiled, nodding. "I just wanted to check on you before leaving."

You tilted your head, smiling. "Is that really why?"

He chuckled, shaking his head and pointing his finger at you. "Smart like your mother."

You chuckled softly, your eyes falling to the ground. He took your hand softly in his, sitting you both down on the sofa. "I heard about him."

You let out a quiet groan — something you've been doing for a while now. "Granny?"

He nodded. "She told me how this isn't good for you and for the image.” When you remained quiet, he continued, "Want to know what I said?"

You looked at him and nodded, your heart thumping in your chest.

"Told her you should control your own life."

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him. "Thank you so much, Pa."

"Whether this is long-term or not, I want you to experience life on your own, darling. I want you to experience everything and try. I don't want you to look back at your life and frown." He rubbed your back soothingly, talking gently. "And I don't just mean the young man you're seeing, I mean your whole life. Make mistakes, so what? As long as you survive and know how to handle it, then do it."

You nuzzled your face in his shoulder, squeezing him. "I love you, Pa."

"I love you, too, darling. Now go, I believe you have somewhere to be." He pulled back, giving you a smile. With a kiss to his cheek, you scurried off.

---

What you hadn’t expected, was seeing Harry leaning against a red pickup truck as you got out of the car.

“What is this?” You asked warily with excitement.

“Rented this baby for the night.”

"Are you for real?" You grinned, looking at the in front of you with Harry leaning on the passenger door, a bashful smile on his face. "That's not it." He said, reaching out with his hand, letting you put your hand in his and follow him where he stopped in front of the cargo bed, making you see the duvet covering it and about 10 pillows to make it comfortable. "The stars look great tonight and I figured we can watch them. Together."

You let out a laugh, looking at him in pure amusement. "Then let's star gaze."

Holding your hand in his and helping you inside the truck, he pecked your lips quickly before shutting the door and making his way towards the driver's seat. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere where your guards won't look at me like I'm stabbing you." Harry chuckled, driving off.

None of you were sure when or how, it might have happened after you accidentally switched to a children radio station, but you and Harry were singing lullabies as he drove.

"Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock," You and Harry sang quietly, your hand out of the window as you drove down the road.

"When the bough breaks," Harry sang.

"The cradle will fall," You motioned with your hands as if something was falling.

"And down will come baby, cradle and all." You both sang, giggling as you finished.

Down a dirt-road, Harry stopped the truck.

Right as you were about to open the door, Harry beat you to it, opening it and holding his palm out for you to take. You both walked to the back of the truck, Harry’s hands on your waist as he helped you up.

He jumped in, making sure you were comfortable and had enough pillows before he lied on his back, you mirroring him as he put a blanket on top of you. You smiled, looking at the sky in front of you.

"The stars do look wonderful." You whispered, tilting your head towards him.

Harry didn't reply, only grazing your hand with his. "I thought about it."

You turned your face towards him, your eyes skimming over his features, knowing what he was talking about. "Yeah?"

Harry looked back at you, his fingers moving to intertwine yours. "I'm willing to take the risk, Y/N."

You grinned, sitting up and leaning on your elbow. "You know you can tell me you don't want to do this, right? I'd understand."

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at you before leaning on his elbow, his face close to yours. "Y/N," Harry let out a laugh, raising his eyebrows, "I literally just told you I want to do this. I want to be with you."

You let out a breath, slumping down, resting your head on the pillow with a dumbfound smile. Harry's dimples were seen as he smiled, looking down at you.

"I'll do my best, Y/N." He whispered.

Looking into Harry's green eyes, you replied, "And that's all that matters."

Harry leaned down, capturing your lips with his. "I'm traveling in a couple of days."

"Way to ruin the mood, Styles."

Harry laughed, throwing his head back. "I'm sorry, I had to. I still have to finish my tour." His hand found your cheek, seeming to not know how to stop himself from caressing your skin softly.

"How long will you be gone?"

"2 weeks before I'm back again for a week."

"Think we can make the most of these two days?" You asked, your face leaning against his palm.

"Think we can." Was what he said before pressing his lips against yours.

---

"The plane goes," you dragged before picking Charlotte up and spinning her, "Whoooosh!"

She laughed excitedly as you let her down on her feet. "Again, Titi, again!"

Titi was Charlotte's way of saying "auntie", something that had the entire family swooning.

"You'll get dizzy, love. Let's sit down for a bit, alright?" You sat on the grass, Charlotte plopping on your lap. "Oof!" You joked, lying on your back with your arms spread, making her laugh.

"Titi! Up! Wake up!" She lied on your chest, making you wrap your arms around her.

You opened your eyes, seeing her face close to yours, your noses almost touching. "Where's your brother?"

"Which one?"

"Smart girl." You chuckled.

"Auntie!" You heard your other favourite voice, making you look towards the voice.

"There's my Prince!" You grinned, watching George run towards you with a grin, William behind him.

George fell in your arms, wrapping his small arm on his sister who rested her head on your chest. "How was the meeting?" You asked your brother, squinting your eyes as you looked at him.

"Eventful. I'm glad it's done." He sat down on the grass beside you, his legs in front of him as he leaned on his palms. "How was your little night getaway, Juliet?" He teased you.

"What's with everyone teasing me?" You furrowed your eyebrows, looking at your nephew and niece, "Papa isn't being nice, bubs."

"Papa!" They both scolded, raising their heads and looking at him.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He raised one hand up defensively, making you laugh.

"To answer your question, it was nice." You smiled at him before looking at George and Charlotte who were playing with the tassel in your blouse.

"Did you both talk?"

You nodded, "We did. Gave him a couple of days to think and grasp everything."

"From what I read about him, h-"

"Please tell me you didn't actually do that, Will." You laughed, shaking your head at him.

"Of course, I did!" He replied instantly, "Let me finish, will you? As I was saying, from what I read, he seems decent. Kind lad."

"He is, Will. He's," You paused, looking for the right word. "He feels so real, you know? Like he's effortless. He's easy to be around and you wouldn't question him. He's not- not fishy, you know? Fake in other words."

"All that you knew from what? A month?" William smiled, letting his hand stroke your hair.

You nodded, "Isn't hard to pick up."

"I support you, Tiny. As long as you keep looking after my children while I treat their mother." He joked, ruffling your hair.

"Disgusting. I think 3 is enough."

"I didn't mean it like that!" He laughed, "When did you become so vulgar?"

"When you left me with George 4 years ago and now look, he's not your only child."

#the royal series #harry styles imagine #harrylilies #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x royal!reader #harry styles x princess #harry styles x royal family

[riddleblack246]

For @scoobydean and @destielsecretsanta2020

“This could be nice for Jack.”

“’My First Christmas’. Cas, this is meant for babies.”

“It’s still his first Christmas with us.”

“That mean we should get one for you too?”

“If you’d like.”

Read below for some Team Free Will 3.0 holiday head canons~!

After everything goes down with Jack makes use of his new abilities, Sam and Dean are much more willing to fight to keep him with them. He initially wonders if it is because he’s “useful” to them now. The brothers promptly inform him that no, it’s because this is the first time where they can all feel safe enough to take a breath. Sure, they’re still hunters. But after everything they’ve been through, they all deserve a chance to enjoy life without constantly looking over their shoulders. And so Jack stays.

As promised, he brought back those that were loved and lost. Obviously everyone is relieved and thankful, but that is most clearly seen in the return of Eileen and Castiel. Sam and Eileen are quick to pick up where they left off. Castiel, however, is a bit more hesitant. He didn’t expect to ever see Dean again. He truly thought he wouldn’t have to know Dean’s feelings and when he confessed, he felt he could live with that. But now he’s suddenly back in this world, aware of his existence and the knowledge that he told the man he’d been in love with for over a decade how he felt. But Dean doesn’t allow him to panic for long. Enveloping Cas in his arms, he’s squeezing the angel’s vessel so tightly that he can barely get out the words. Nonetheless, he does and finally returns the sentiment that Castiel never expected to hear.

“I love you too, Cas.”

And now to dig into holiday centric joys!

By the time Christmas rolls around, the bunker’s primary couples have developed a sense of routine. Eileen has finally moved in and Dean and Castiel have eased into a comfortable romantic domesticity. And for the first time in a while, there are no hunts to investigate or major threats to take on, and the Winchesters found themselves able to celebrate the holidays in a way that they hadn’t had a chance to in some time (save for the Mrs. Butters stint).

On the first of December, Dean sits down in the library and begins to make a list, trying to figure out exactly what was expected of a traditional Christmas. When Sam catches him, he expects scoffs of disagreement or just bored indifference. Instead, he supplies the idea of inviting some people to the bunker.

“What, Sammy? You want to throw a Christmas rager?” (The statement does earn him an eye roll)

“No. I just thought it might be nice. See everyone together.”

Neither of them explicitly say why it would be nice, but they know the relief that would come with seeing each person they never expected to see again. Dean tasks his brother with making a guest list and sending out an e-mail to those on it (because Dean draws the line at trying to make actual invitations).

The response is overwhelmingly positive and soon enough, they’re fielding constant texts from Garth, asking if it would be okay to bring his kids, and e-mails from Donna, offering to bake a multitude of requested holiday treats. 

Amidst holiday planning, the group allows themselves to give into expectations of the season. Jack and Castiel are largely in the dark of what is or isn’t part of the holidays and while Dean, Sam, and Eileen aren’t the most immersed, they do have an idea of what is to be done and are admittedly eager to dive in.

One of the first things on Dean’s list is to decorate a tree. He even insists on cutting one down himself, as aside from various times he had to cut and sharpen his own stakes, it’s something he’s never had a chance to do. Sam, reluctant to join him, tells his brother to have fun. In the spirit of “giving”, Dean bring Cas and Jack along, assuring Sam and Eileen that they’ll “be a while ;)”. They return some hours later with a tree that rivals the Rockefeller Center and relief in the fact that they have two celestial beings to transport something of that size. Decorating it is another story.

After digging through the bunker and finding that, no, the Men of Letters did not hoard Christmas ornaments or wreaths or any such things among their piles of artifacts and cursed objects, the groups decides to get a little shopping done. They initially hit a big box store for a bunch of basics - lights, tinsel, various colored balls (Dean makes several jokes about this), but as the month goes on, all of them are guilty of picking up random items to decorate with while out.

Eileen delightedly shows her boys a Christmas pyramid she bought and is quick to tell Jack that he can’t light it whenever he wants, as forgetting about it could result in burning down the bunker.

Sam buys all of them advent calendars, each dedicated specifically to every member of the bunker. Dean doesn’t comment on Sam’s shift toward the holiday spirit, not only because he’s happy that his brother has allowed himself to be more joyfully invested in things, but also because every day for the month he gets to appreciate a new and weird specialty bottle of hot sauce. Sam’s own contains different types of tea, Eileen’s has jam, Jack’s has little LEGO figures, and Castiel’s has coffee.

Jack nearly gives Dean a heart attack one morning when the man wakes up to find a nutcracker as tall as he is in the crow’s nest. Jack tells him all about finding it in a shop he and Castiel passed when getting supplies and insisting that it was a perfect thing to have for the bunker. Dean looks to Castiel and knows the angel would have been too soft to say no. Then again, he knows he would have been just as guilty.

Castiel begins buying ornaments for people in the bunker. Even with Dean teasing him about it, he does buy a “my first Christmas” ornament and puts a photo of Jack inside that Eileen helped him print out. He finds that he is particularly fond of ornaments that contain photos and begins to buy ones for that explicit purpose.

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a type of decoration that he finds himself buying outside of what they have, but he is fond of the lights. He usually insists they stay on as long as allotted, urging whoever is the last to go to bed to turn them off (though it’s usually himself).

When it does snow, Dean is eventually irritable about it with Sam and Eileen in a similar boat, though to a lesser degree. Shoveling snow out of the way of the bunker’s entrance is a pain in the ass and none of them love the chore of getting treads on their respective tires. But seeing Jack’s fascination with it - and realizing that it’s his first time encountering snow, they find themselves softening.

After getting help in clearing access to the bunker, the group spends much of the day outside. There is an unspoken agreement that they want Jack to experience all the great enjoyments of snow and it honestly brings out the kid in them too. They build a mediocre snowman (Sam takes the heat for his poor artistic skills), make snow angels (the jokes about Castiel doing so get old within five minutes), have a snowball fight (Eileen is fucking ruthless and not above putting snow down jackets), and creating makeshift sleds to race. The sledding is what ultimately makes them go back inside. Garbage can lids are hard to steer and after Dean eats it by running into a tree and loosing a tooth, even Cas fixing it doesn’t resolve the choice to go in. Nonetheless, the accident doesn’t stall the mood, as Dean insists on introducing Jack to one more awesome component of the Traditional Snow Day - the hot chocolate at the end. Said hot cocoa almost results in a fight when, after Dean makes enough for all of them, Castiel reluctantly admits that he doesn’t care for it, and Dean and Jack nearly come to childish blows over who gets his mug. Later that evening, Castiel makes sure to thank Dean privately for allowing Jack to have it. ;)

Now, when it comes to cooking, Dean likes to consider himself pretty well-versed. Baking is another story. The preciseness that’s required is what gets him. Sure, he can be meticulous, but he’s always been more of a “little of this, a bunch of that” kind of guy over exact measurements, which leaves a lot more room for error when it comes to baking. But after going on a “Gilmore Girls” binge with Castiel (the couple constantly debates the superior show of the former and “Dr. Sexy, M.D.”), he can’t help imagining a scene of tenderly showing Cas how to roll out dough and mussing some flour in his hair and watching the angel lick the spoon in a way that borders on pornographic. The day after watching, he’s searching for cookie recipes and telling Castiel to dig out some aprons.

As is the Winchester way, this expectation does not come to fruition. Cas, as he thought, didn’t know a thing about cooking or baking. But Dean pictured being able to guide him, to do all the romantic shit you see in Hallmark movies. Instead, the angel is complaining about not being able to just will the baked goods into existence, standing in the way when Dean needs to get any kind of ingredient, and getting flour on every fucking surface in the kitchen. Things reach a boiling point when Cas pulls the cookies out of the oven, sans oven mitts, and for a brief moment, Dean’s brain operates on a panic reflex and snatches the tray from his hands. The result is their hours of baking scattered all over the floor, a dented baking sheet, and second-degree burns on the hunter’s hands. He’s huffing and cursing and he fully expects Cas to scold him and point out the obvious fact that he’s an angel and such temperatures have no effect on him. But instead, he watched Castiel pulled his hands from the faucet (having immediately shoved them under there after he burned himself) and tenderly brushes his finger tips over the wounds. Dean feels the familiar sensation of healing flesh, something he hasn’t felt in a bit and he’s silent as Cas brings the newly healed skin to his lips and presses a kiss to his palms. The irritability baking had brought them is gone. Dean lets Cas wave the kitchen clean and they decide to just go out and buy Christmas cookies instead. Later that evening, Cas’ lips taste like ginger and Dean finds that the reality is way better than the fantasy.

They ultimately end up hosting the party that started their shift into the Christmas spirit a few days before the actual holiday. After all, they know most of their friends prefer flying over driving and it might be a lot to ask them to come out on the actual holiday. But their concerns of traffic and irritated guests soon fly out the window in the face of so many familiar… well, faces. Hugs never stop coming and despite everyone’s claim that gifts would not be necessary, everyone knows that’s bullshit and a pile beneath their ridiculous tree grows with every teasing comment and expression of happy holidays.

Speaking of the tree, Castiel is quite pleased with his holiday crafting and the other members of the bunker share that sentiment. Since the angel discovered the photo-insert ornaments, he had taken it upon himself to spend random periods during the month finding photographs of each important person in their lives that he could and putting them into such items. Everyone takes joy in searching for their own picture. Claire comments that he picked a terrible one of her, but Cas hears her quietly asking Dean if she could take it home with her, as it features her and Kaia pressed close in a hug. Charlie adores her’s and insists that she wants to make the same craft, but only if they do it together. Everyone quietly appreciates the ones made for those that aren’t present to appreciate them. Jack ensures that Mary’s ornament has prime placement. Eileen hugs Sam when she catches him looking at Kevin’s for a while. Dean makes a point to kiss Castiel privately after finding Bobby’s nestled among some tinsel. Everyone agrees that their the best decorations in the place.

Hunters and those that know them have never been known to operate on a normal schedule, so it is nearly three in the morning before the bunker clears out. Some have elected to drive home if the trip was relatively easy. Others have settled into the many spare rooms that the bunker holds. Once all the gifts have been opened, the eggnog’s been drunk, and everyone has eaten their weight in treats, only Dean and Cas remain in the quiet bunker. They sit together in the library, positioned on one of the many extended seats they’d brought out to fit their guests. The lights of the enormous tree are still on at Dean’s request and Castiel can’t help staring at the way the different colors still look so beautiful on him. He glances up at the other decorations strewn about. The bows, the poinsettias (Garth had brought something like ten of them), the holly, the- He spots a familiar item of decor. He’d seen Sam and Eileen equally position themselves under it in wait of their partner, always stopping them with the insistence that a kiss must be administered before they continue on their way about the bunker. Lazily, he nudges Dean and points to the archways between the crow’s nest and the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

“Is standing beneath that a requirement for kissing?”

Dean follows his finger and huff out a laugh. Even though they hadn’t been dating long, they’d been together for so many years that he knows the angel is teasing. He turns to meet his eyes, smiling at the way the lights almost change them from blue to a rainbow of color.

“What, you want to kiss under the mistletoe? Now?”

For a moment, it seems as if he’s considering the offer. But instead, he shakes his head and reaches a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek. He knows that he could have kiss Dean under there the same way Eileen and Sam do. But he knows they’re different. Dean is a lot of thing and as much as he would deny it, one of those things is private. Their relationship is simultaneously new and so so ingrained into their life. Affection was always something there, just beneath the surface. And while he had the thing he desired for so long, that doesn’t mean he feels the need to push Dean into a realm of affection that just isn’t fitting of who they are together. Leaning forward, he captures Dean’s lips in a kiss. He tastes like eggnog and candy cane.

Castiel understands all the more that happiness is in the being. And he no longer fears his joy. Because he can’t imagine being happier than holding Dean beneath these lights and knowing that they still have tomorrow and so many days to come. There is no better present than that.

#destielsecretsanta2020 #scoobydean #supernatural #Destiel #saileen #saleen #jack kline #my posts

[castleshadows]

Sick Day

A short fic that contains a sick Poppy and a mother hen Casteel.

Requested by Anonymous.

Written June 16, 2021

Poppy groaned, immediately regretting it as the vibrations made the dull ache in her head throb harder. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to subside before slowly opening them again and blinking as the room spun a bit. Sniffing loudly, she reached her arm across the bed, flopping it around until she grabbed hold of a clean tissue. The loud and hard nose blowing that commenced did nothing to help her stuffy nose and only made her headache worse.

“Goddesses don’t get sick they said,” she grumbled to the empty room, “Goddesses aren’t susceptible to colds they said. Well look how wrong you were.”

She blew her nose again, her arm falling away rather dramatically from her face and hitting the bed with a whomp . As she stared at the ceiling, she contemplated the pros and cons of hauling several pillows from Cas’s side of the bed to hers so she could prop herself up. One the one hand it would probably help her nose clear up a bit, but on the other hand… Well there really was no other hand. Just the fact that she really didn't want to move.

After several seconds of self-debate, Poppy shoved a wad of tissues away from her side of the bed and dragged herself into a sitting position. She looked to where most of the pillows are stacked up. It was only a few feet away, but to her aching body, the task seemed impossible.

A door creaked open, and Poppy looked blearily at the tall figure that emerged from the hallway. The door closed behind him and she sniffed pathetically as Casteel came into view, his eyes filled with worry.

Slowly, pulling himself onto the bed, he reached a large hand up and cupped her cheek. At first the contact made her skin ache, but the feeling went away after a moment, and Poppy was able to rest her head in her husband’s warm palm. Casteel’s other hand came up to feel her forehead. He turned the hand over to the other side and then back again. Brushing a sweaty string of hair away from her temple, he pressed a slight kiss to her forehead and leaned back.

“How are you feeling, Princess?” he whispered, as if afraid of hurting her if he talked too loud. She almost snorted, but thought better of it, when she remembered the headache and the gallons of snot that seemed to be shoved into every crevice of her nose.

“Terrible,” she groaned, wincing as the dull throb returned full force. She closed her mouth, not wanting to make it worse than it already was.

“I’m so sorry, Poppy,” he sounded genuinely guilty, despite her being sick having nothing to do with him. She wished she had the energy to tell him it wasn’t his fault, “But don’t worry, I brought the best healer in the capital, she’s waiting right outside—”

“Casteel you do realize that this is probably just a cold right? And that colds aren’t curable?” Poppy opened her eyes, blinking away the blurriness, “I’m just going to have to wait it out.”

“I know it’s most likely a cold,” he started to rub his thumb along her cheekbone, and she leaned into the soothing motion, her eyes closing once again, “But there are certain things Atlantians are susceptible to that look like colds at first and that can become much worse if left untreated.”

Poppy found herself wanting to ask all about the different types of sickness Atlantians could get, purely out of curiosity. She also found herself wanting to protest that she was not an Atlantian, but she had no energy for anything more than a slight nod. A sluggish feeling was settling deep into her bones, and it didn’t help that she hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep the night before due to the fact that she couldn’t breathe through her nose while laying down and breathing through her mouth only hurt her already sore throat.

Casteel caressed her cheek one last time before leaving the room and returning with a tall, motherly looking woman garbed in healer’s robes. Her brown skin was lined with wrinkles and her hair was turning grey at the roots, but her eyes held a look of youth in them, and her smile was one of the kindest Poppy had ever seen. She came in, took one look at the state Poppy was in and immediately set her things down to start cleaning up the multitude of tissues that surrounded her patient.

“Oh you poor thing,” she said, dumping the snotty tissues into a trashcan and setting it beside the bed, “Don’t worry honey, my name is Nola and I’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

Nola rushed back over to her basket of supplies as Casteel came to sit by Poppy. He took hold of her hand and gripped it reassuringly, watching the healer carefully. The woman came back holding her basket in one hand and a thin stick of wood in the other. She held it up to Poppy’s mouth, only smiling kindly when the Queen jerked away.

“Oh, don’t be alarmed dear. I’m not going to stick it down your throat,” Nola beckoned Poppy to come closer to the edge of the bed which Casteel helped with, “It’s just to hold your tongue down when I look inside your mouth.”

Poppy nodded, slowly opening her mouth and trying to ignore the fear that the woman was tricking her into getting something shoved down her throat. Casteel held her hand the entire time however, rubbing his fingers across her skin, and soothing whatever anxiety she had.

The healer used the stick only to press down Poppy’s tongue as she’d said, and peered down her throat. She nodded a bit, and mhmed once or twice as if confirming something she’d thought previously.

“It looks quite red,” Nola commented, “Has it been hurting at all, honey?”

Poppy was unable to answer with her mouth still wide open, but Casteel nodded for her.

“She said that her throat’s been sore for a while. It’s been around longer than the other symptoms along with the runny nose.”

Nola nodded again, and pulled the stick back, letting Poppy close her mouth.

“I see, and have you taken any medicine at all to relieve any of your symptoms?”

She directed the question towards Poppy, but it seemed that Casteel sensed his wife wasn’t in the mood to talk right now, and once again answered for her.

“She’d been sucking on some honey drops to help with the soreness, but we haven’t taken anything for the runny nose or fever.”

Nola started to dig through her basket, tossing things onto the bed. She spent a good five minutes or so pulling out bottle after bottle of tonics and reading each label aloud under her breath. Poppy really hoped that she wasn’t going to have to take all of that medicine.

Eventually, the healear found what she was looking for, and turned triumphantly to Casteel and Poppy, holding up a glass bottle.

“This is a tonic of my own making, designed to effectively treat the symptoms of a common cold,” she paused, turning to Poppy, “Which is most likely what you have dear.”

“Told you,” Poppy murmured to her husband, who let out a chuckle, nodding for Nola to continue.

“It doesn’t taste all that great and it can make you quite drowsy, but with as little sleep as you most likely got last night based on the way you're drooping, that might be a good thing.”

Casteel held out an arm and took the bottle from the healer, glancing at the label.

“Each dose is two tablespoons, and you’ll need to take one within the next few minutes and then again eight hours later. I wouldn’t recommend taking it consistently for more than two or three days, but I doubt your cold will persist that long.”

Casteel nodded, his expression quite serious as he committed all the information to memory. It was one of the things Poppy loved about her husband. The way he would take her and her needs completely seriously, no matter what. She snuggled in closer to him, pressing her face into his shoulder. He wrapped one warm arm around her shoulders and held her there as he asked Nola several questions about the best way to make the medicine taste better, and if it was safe to take it with chocolate or a bit of sugar. Godsdamn her husband was so thoughtful.

Poppy heard the sound of a wrapper crinkle and she lifted her head to see Nola handing Casteel a bar of chocolate.

“The best way to take bad tasting medicine,” she informed, “is to drink lots of water and swallow as much of it as you can at once, preferably all of it. Drink some more water to wash it down and then eat a bit of chocolate to get rid of the taste. At least that’s what I’ve found in my years of healing.”

Poppy grimaced at the thought of having to force down the tonic, and pressed her face into Casteel’s chest. Her husband brought a hand up and weaved his fingers through her hair, giving her some reassuring rubs on the back of her head.

“Thank you, from both my wife and I,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. Poppy pressed in closer if only to feel those soothing vibrations again. She didn’t even care that she probably looked ridiculous acting like a child in front of the healer. Nola didn’t comment on it though, only gathered her things, thanked Casteel and left.

“All right let’s try this tonic out,” he said as Poppy continued to practically shove herself into his chest, “Two tablespoons she said…”

There was a sound of pouring and Poppy lifted her head, but only to make sure that he wasn’t pouring the tonic all over the bed. He wasn’t. The healer had left them a very tiny metal cup with lines etched into the sides, indicating the measurements. Casteel poured the brown colored liquid to the two tablespoons line and screwed the cap back on the bottle, setting it to the side.

Poppy wrinkled her nose at the strong smell that was emanating from the metal cup, and instinctively shied away when Casteel tried to lift it to her lips.

“Come on Poppy, just drink it,” Cas coaxed as she grimaced, “it won’t kill you.”

“You don’t know that,” she rasped, trying not to show that even just speaking was hurting her.

It didn’t work very well because Casteel immediately furrowed his brow, “Poppy I can tell you’re in pain, just take it.”

“The healer said we needed water first,” she reminded him in a pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, Casteel was the kind of person to be concerned about following exact directions when it came to things he had no idea what he was talking about, and several minutes later he was back with a cup of cold water.

Poppy reluctantly took the water from him and took a sip that was probably longer than necessary. She swallowed the cool liquid, wincing a bit as it hit her sore throat. Casteel watched on, taking the cup from her when she was done. The smaller metal one was then pressed into her hand.

Steeling herself, Poppy brought the metal cup to her lips and after taking a deep breath, drained the cup in one go. No sooner had she swallowed the disgusting tonic, she started choking, coming dangerously close to throwing it back up. Casteel took the cup and rubbed her back until there was no longer a danger of her vomiting.

“You okay?” he asked, handing her the water.

She took a long sip, the cool liquid helping to cleanse the taste of medicine from her mouth.

“I’m fine,” she croaked, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a ridiculously large bite. She felt better almost instantly. The sweetness chased away whatever lingering flavor was still there, and it was smooth enough that it didn’t bother her throat too much on the way down. She sat there for a while, savoring the taste, then went in for another large bite, glaring when Casteel stopped her.

“Let’s save the rest for the other doses,” he wrestled the chocolate out of Poppy’s hands and set it on the bedside table.

She thought about running and grabbing it, but it honestly wasn’t worth it, and she was still quite tired despite the fact that the tonic already seemed to be working. Her nose was less stuffed and she could finally breathe. Only through one nostril, but she counted that as a win. Her head felt better as well, and she didn’t feel as heavy anymore. Poppy looked around the room, cringing at the mess she’d made during the day.

Casteel seemed to note the mess as well, because barely seconds after she’d thought about it, he was up and cleaning, straightening the bedsheets, picking up tissues that had found their way underneath the bed.

“I talked to Kieran earlier,” his voice was muffled, “And had him move all of our meetings to different dates as well as fill out some of the paperwork you had.”

“Wait, what?” Poppy crawled to the edge of the bed, looking down at Casteel. Well really just his legs that were poking out from under the bed.

“I said,” he grunted, pulling himself back into the open, “That I talked to Kieran earlier and had him—”

“No, I know what you said,” Poppy interrupted, “My question is why. You’re not sick, so it’d be possible for you to attend the meetings, especially the one with the treasurer. We’ve pushed that back long enough. And I’m feeling a lot better, so paperwork is still manageable. I don’t want to pile all of that on Kieran, he works hard enough already.”

Casteel stood up, looking her in the eye. His brow furrowed.

“Okay, first of all, Kieran is perfectly fine. Second, I’m aware that I am not sick, however, I don’t feel good about leaving you here all day by yourself. And lastly, no way in hell am I letting you do any work while you're sick. Not only is it possible you could get someone else sick, but you also are currently running on a grand total of zero hours of sleep. So if we are going to focus on anything, I think it should be that.”

Poppy narrowed her eyes, unwilling to give in. Unfortunately, Casteel looked just as determined. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to lay around in bed all day. In fact, doing just that sounded like absolute heaven right now, but she didn’t want to feel useless. And not only that, but she didn’t want to make somebody else do all the work she was supposed to be doing when she was perfectly capable of doing it.

“Kieran will be fine,” Casteel said, practically reading her mind, “In fact he told me to tell you that if you try and do any of the work yourself he’ll come here and tie you down to the bed and tape your eyes closed.”

Her chest shook with restrained laughter as she tried to keep her mouth from curving upwards. She failed, the laughter bubbling up and releasing into the world.

The stubborn expression slipped away from Casteel’s face, and his mouth opened a bit. He looked like he always did when she laughed or smiled. Awed.

She giggled again at the expression, which quickly turned into a loud yawn that she covered with a hand.

Casteel pulled her into his lap, maneuvering them so that they lay against the headboard. Poppy turned to the side, her cheek pressed to his warm chest.

“Are we sure Kieran will be okay?” she said as a heaviness seeped into her bones once again. She sniffed and was handed a tissue by her husband.

“He’ll be fine. I promise.”

_________________________________________________

“I am not fine, I am not fine at all,” Kieran muttered to himself, staring at the huge pile of paperwork that had been dumped on his desk by Casteel several hours ago.

He’d been working on it since then, and had gotten barely a fifth of it done. Not to mention all the other work he had to do. Why the hell did Poppy have to get sick?

Kieran buried his head in his hands and let himself groan loudly for a couple seconds before pulling off the next large piece of parchment and getting to work.

#poppy balfour #casteel da'neer #poppy x hawke #poppy x casteel #sickfic #sick fluff #fluff #domestic fluff #fbaa #akofaf #tcogb #tcogb spoilers

[sir-elyan]

The Christmas Compromise

merry christmas, @lilliankayl !! ‘tis i, your secret santa! this ended up getting a little long, so there will be multiple parts up...soon. here’s the first one, which you will also eventually be able read on ao3 when it’s complete. hope you enjoy!!

Part One.

Dean feels his mouth start to form a lazy smile.

Through the winter chill and the foggy annoyance that his blankets are skewed around him to provide the least amount of heat and warmth, there is a distant recognition that the smell of coffee in the air isn’t just any brew.

Despite the effort to untangle the sheets from his legs and feet, Dean manages to bare his skin to the winter cold of his room, provided the damage to his heater. He makes a mental note to fix that later, after they come back. Dean can last a few days until then.

He can practically see his breath hanging in the air when he yawns, pulling on warmer clothes as quickly as his stiff muscles and numb fingertips will allow him. Sweats, then t-shirt, then hoodie, because he isn’t expected to be anywhere until later and he can always change before that if he needs to.

Better to die comfy than in plaid.

It’s early morning, judging by the darkness outside and Dean’s alarm clock that blinks 5:30 AM at him in white block numbers, but he can’t find it in himself to care that he’s awake to see hell freeze over. Lucky for him, there’s a quick fix to his sleepiness less than twenty feet away.

The socks take entirely too long to fit onto his feet. When they finally do, Dean yanks his door open and pads down the hall, stopping at the entrance to his kitchen.

It’s a modest kitchen—a modest home, really, but it does it’s job—and it’s empty save for an occupied chair at the kitchen table.

Dean stares for a second.

He’s allowed to notice clothes and posture before that second is disrupted by Miracle making a racket coming into the kitchen, and Cas turns to face them.

“Morning,” Dean greets him. The smell of coffee is much stronger here, and Dean can feel his mouth beginning to water.

Cas pushes a full mug towards Dean’s seat.

“Good morning, Dean. I made you—”

“My favorite brew,” Dean finishes for him. He sits, letting his fingers thaw under the ceramic of the mug and breathing in the heavy scent of Cas’ coffee.

“It’s everyone’s favorite brew,” Cas says, taking a sip from his own cup. “That’s why it’s the priciest.”

Dean levels a look at him.

“I have to make money somehow,” Cas defends.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waves him off, bringing the drink to his lips. The first taste is hot—too hot—and it burns his throat on the way down.

“You never learn,” Cas says. Dean doesn’t need to meet his eyes to know that they’re squinting at him. “You’ve been burning your tongue on my coffee for years, you’d think it’d make an impact by now.”

Dean only frowns and mumbles into his coffee something about “not every time,” to which Cas rolls his eyes.

They can only pretend to be angry with each other for a few more minutes before it subsides into companionable silence. Dean lightly kicks Cas’ foot under the table to get his attention.

“You gonna need a ride to work?”

Cas sets his mug down and shrugs. He’s still in his night clothes: a white t-shirt—Dean has never understood how Cas can stand the cold—and borrowed sweats, but he’ll probably burrow through more of Dean’s wardrobe to get his outfit for today. The guy might as well live here with the amount of time he spends at Dean’s place and the fact that Dean’s closet is practically Cas’, too, now.

I could always just ask him…

Dean swallows the last of his drink and stands before he can contemplate the question again. He busies himself at the sink, and then ducks under the counter to get Miracle’s food from the cabinet.

“Yes,” Cas says eventually, evidently having gone through every other option before arriving at that one. “Is it a bother?”

Dean pokes his head over the counter to look at him.

“No, man, you know I like driving Baby around. Besides, I’ve got some shopping to do, and, y’know…”

“Free breakfast,” Cas adds for him, a teasing note in his voice. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the muffins that go missing every time you drop by.”

Dean sets down Miracle’s food and whistles softly, standing straight once Miracle trots into the room and to his bowl to eat.

“Hey,” he points a finger at Cas, “Consider it a compromise since you never pay for gas.”

“It’s not like I haven’t offered,” Cas meets Dean by the sink to wash his cup out. “Do you want me to pay for gas, Dean?”

He’s standing close in that way that Cas always stands close—in the way that Dean has stopped correcting for years now. That’s just how he is, he reminds himself, and puts visible effort into keeping his eyes trained on Cas’ blue ones.

“No,” he says, “You don’t need to pay for gas. All I’m asking is that you look the other way when I happen to find a cookie just laying there for the taking. Do that, and it’s free rides for life.”

“When you say ‘laying there,’ I assume you mean in the casing, behind the counter, where only employees are allowed,” Cas sasses back, face stripped of emotion except for the slight furrow to his brow. Imperceptible, if it wasn’t Dean that was staring.

“So now I’m an employee?” Dean asks, finally pulling away from their bubble to pretend to clean the counter. “Jee, Cas, you shoulda told me. I would have put my apron on.”

Cas punches him lightly on the shoulder, done with washing his cup but fingers still wet from doing so. It leaves an imprint on Dean’s hoodie, which Dean acts like he hates, but it gives him a motive to attack Cas back.

They scuffle, elbowing each other and pushing each other around the kitchen—Dean even manages to try for a few tickles to Cas’ armpits and stomach, but still to no avail—until Miracle joins in and they stop so as to not accidentally step on a paw.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Cas says, once they’re done with the rough housing. Patting Dean’s back once, he leaves the kitchen and enters Dean’s room down the hall.

Warmer, now, with the extra movement in him, Dean leans against the counter to catch his breath. At least that’s what he tells himself, watching Cas mill around from door to door until he hears the bathroom shut and the shower start.

When Dean is sure that Cas is out of hearing range, he pulls out his phone.

“Bitch,” Dean starts, pressing the cold surface to his ear and cheek.

“Jerk.”

He smiles. “How’s it goin’?”

“Same old, same old. Got a case about to close up here real soon, so. Expect to see me at the Bunker in a few days.”

“You’ll be there,” Dean confirms. “Glad to hear it.”

“And you? Everything good?”

Dean shifts at the accusatory tone in Sam’s voice.

“Yeah, man. All good. Shop’s runnin’ just fine. Bobby says hi.”

A huff of laughter. “He still kickin’ your ass?”

Dean nods, even though Sam can’t see him. “Bobby’s Bobby. You know how he is, never a moment’s rest. Come to think of it, I actually had to remind him that it’s Christmas this week. The guy was asking if I’d be in on Friday. Had to tell him he wouldn’t be in on Friday, crazy bastard.” He hears Sam chuckle. “Oh hey, by the way, I think Rufus is coming with this year.”

“Really? Haven’t seen him since—”

“Yeah, I know. Well, he’ll be there—you can recount the tall tales of Rufus and Sammy to everyone as a Christmas present.”

There’s a pause, and Dean checks to see if the call had cut off before returning his phone to his ear.

“—coming?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Is Cas coming?”

Dean hears the shower shut off. The guy makes quick work.

“I was assuming,” he says.

“Well, you should ask.”

“Why?” Dean scoffs, “It’s pretty much a given, dude, he always comes.”

He can practically feel Sam’s eye roll over the phone.

“What?”

“I dunno, Dean, c’mon. You can’t just expect him to come whenever you call. He’s got his own family, you know, and—”

Dean grimaces, folding an arm over his chest. “No, he doesn’t. We’re his family. Those dickheads are—” He sighs, tries to contain the outburst before it can be unleashed. In…out.

“Trust me, Sam, he doesn’t want to see them. He’ll be at ours on Friday.”

“Dean—”

“Nice talkin’ to you, Sammy. I’ve gotta go, taking Cas to work.”

“Wait, he’s there?! Hang on a second—”

“Bye!”

He cuts the call before he can hear another word out of Sam, and just in time to see Cas in the bathroom doorway. He’s looking at Dean with his head tilted curiously, and Dean’s breath immediately catches in his chest.

“Was that Sam?” he asks. As if his hair isn’t all wet and towel-rustled, as if he isn’t dressed in Dean’s clothes.

“Yeah,” Dean croaks. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yes. He says hi.”

“I’m sorry I missed him,” Cas frowns, making his way over to Dean. Dean stills.

“It’s six,” Cas continues, “I should be at work by seven, if you can manage it.”

When Dean just stares back, Cas adds, “You should get dressed.”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“You’ve been wearing that hoodie for three days straight and you’re beginning to smell like Miracle,” he deadpans. “Go shower, I can wait.”

Dean pushes himself off the counter and brushes past him. “Thanks, Cas. How considerate.”

-

When Dean parks Baby in front of Heaven and Hell Cafe, he does so in his grey henley and several layers of long-sleeves, with jeans that do nothing to combat the cold.

Shivering, he follows Cas inside, and warmth envelops them upon entry, along with the jingle of the door bell.

“Cas!” comes a familiar voice. Dean hears more than sees a set of doors opening, and Jack is suddenly in front of them wearing a huge smile.

“Oh, Dean! Good to see you,” Jack lifts a hand in greeting, but it looks more like he wants a hug. Dean smiles back at him and waves.

“Hey, kiddo. Everything alright?”

Jack nods. “Yes. Although, I…I do need to see Cas for a second.”

“Oh, um. Of course.” Cas glances at Dean with a look that says ‘I’ll be right back,’ and follows Jack through the double doors that lead to the kitchen.

Dean trails after them half-way, stopping behind the counter to sleuth after some morning treats. He decides on what he thinks is a cinnamon roll, pulling it out of the casing and shutting the door as quickly as he’d opened it.

He stuffs the pastry in his hoodie’s pocket for later, and thanks the universe that it’s wrapped and won’t get covered in fuzz this time (he’d learned the hard way).

“—makes sense. Just let me know if anything changes.”

Cas appears through the doors looking slightly stressed. Dean fights to urge to get up and soothe, to run his hands across Cas’ shoulders and ease the tension there.

“You good?” Dean checks instead. Cas nods.

“Fine. Just…It’s fine. Didn’t you say you had shopping to do?”

“Are you kickin’ me out?” he jokes.

“No, but the shop opens in thirty minutes. Feel free to stick around if you’d like.” Cas’ eyes drop to Dean’s crotch area, and he quickly looks down to see what Cas is looking at.

“You can eat that here. No point in hiding it since the gig is up.” Dean lets out a breath. Cas had been staring at the lump in Dean’s hoodie pocket, where Dean was keeping his breakfast. What happened to ‘looking the other way?’

“Thanks, but you’re right, I should probably get going. I’ve gotta do errands and be at the shop later to work for a few hours. You coming over tonight?”

Cas pauses in the middle of putting his apron on, contemplating the question.

“No,” he says slowly. “Not tonight.”

Dean tries not to frown. Suddenly the weight of his phone in his pocket is ten times heavier than it was a few seconds ago. ‘Well, you should ask,’ the little voice inside his head that sounds like Sam, says. He sighs softly.

“How about, um. You’re—you’ll be there on Friday, right? Do you need a ride? I was planning on leaving on Thursday, if you wanted to come with. I know Claire’s heading out earlier. Jody, and all them, too…so.” Dean forces himself to meet Cas’ eyes. Something in his chest feels tight when he notices Cas’ expression has only gotten worse.

“I,” Cas starts, gaze falling to his shoes. “I don’t know, Dean.”

That thing in Dean’s chest solidifies and sinks to his stomach, settling there uncomfortably. 

“Don’t know what?”

Cas starts rummaging through the bakery cases, adjusting things that don’t need to be adjusted, meticulously cleaning crumbs from platters and making sure the little banners with the pastry names on them are all straight and perfect. 

“If I’ll be able to go,” he says finally, not looking up. “It’s the holidays and I’m busy here this season, people have been ordering pastries for Christmas, and I don’t know if I plan to close on Christmas day, because my regulars might want to come in still, and—“

“Cas,” Dean stops him, leaning over the counter. Cas notices and lightly tries to push him off so he can start on the counters, but Dean grabs his wrist to get his attention. 

“You’re going to work yourself to death, man. It’s the holidays. Your regulars will understand if you don’t show up on Christmas, okay? And you’ve never had this issue any other year, so...” Dean makes Cas look at him. “What’s really bothering you?”

to be continued...

-

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#okay quick note: #i hate this sdfnjhsdf #i think its Not My Best and for that you have my apologies #i blame it on not having written fiction for like two weeks and instead writing like. #18 pages worth of essays #so. ANYHOW #i will probably come back to this and fix some things idk but i hope it suffices for now! #rambleoncas writing #destiel #spnfamsecretsanta

[jimlingss]

Ducklings & Dimples

Original / Sequel

➜ Words: 26.8k

➜ Genres: 50% Adventure, 30% Fluff, 20% Action, Historical!AU - kind of

➜ Summary: Min Yoongi is sent off to the town of Millpass to complete a quest for his mentor. But there, he’s humiliated when he gets scammed and stolen from by the same person - you. // Alternatively: They like to call you a cheat, but you like to call it business. You’ve learnt that nothing in life comes for free. Rather, there are opportunities. And when you run into a certain human fighter with blonde hair, you’ll take advantage of his protection and embark on a quest together for profits, dragons, and a blossoming romance.

➜ Notes: Inspired and set in the world of Dungeons and Dragons. However, you do not need to have prior knowledge of the game or have played in order to read the story. ((Extra Info: Dungeons and Dragons is a fantasy role-playing tabletop game set in an imaginary world based loosely on medieval myth.))

The town of Millpass is lively and welcoming to its many tourists and travelers. It’s open to creatures with all kinds of backgrounds; the wealthy are able to purchase rare spices from the marketplaces while the poor arrive here to make a new living for themselves. It’s a place of opportunity.

  But Yoongi isn’t here to enjoy the town in spite of being a traveler — even if he’s observing his surroundings, taking in the warm weather, the animated atmosphere, the bustling tavern and wooden stalls lining the streets. Even if he’s feeling better after the tiresome journey getting here.   You, on the other hand, are taking full advantage of what this town has to offer.   “Get your potions of resistance! Made from the most experienced artificers and warlocks in the depths of Chult! Won’t get it anywhere else! Get your potions! Can’t go into battle without them!”   You’re holding stoppered bottles in both hands. The one in your left is a bubbling, neon red while the other is a frothy, icy blue. There’s a sign dangling from your neck and your leather satchel is slung across your body, a bag of holding that houses the rest of the bottles.    “Get your bottles!” Every time you jump, your braids bounce and dust flies onto your peasant dress and boots, but the brown shades easily hide just how dirty you are. “Excuse me, sir. Would you like one?”   You stop a brute-looking Dragonborn on the street and by the look of the axes in his possession, you assume he’s a barbarian. Your neck hurts when it knocks back to look at him. His shadow looms over you like a tree providing shade on a Summer’s day. He’s well over six feet tall.   “What does it do?” his voice is low and raspy, his brow lifted at the bottle.   “It’s potions of resistance! This one gives you resistance on heat and this other one gives you resistance on cold damage. They last for twenty four hours.”   “Twenty four? I thought it was only for an hour.”   “Well these are made specially from an ancient artificer from Chult that learned from a warlock that specializes in herbalism,” you say and he seems reluctant to believe you. After years of this, you can tell he’s about to walk away, so you come closer with shining eyes. “You wouldn’t want to waste this opportunity. Better to take a risk and try than to walk away without ever knowing, right? Don’t you want to satisfy your own curiosity and doubts?”   There’s a moment of silence.   Your persuasion works.   “How much?”   “Two gold pieces.”   “One,” he negotiates.   You hum as if considering it. Then, you nod. “Deal.”   The ruffian Dragonborn barbarian hands the gold piece over and you give him the glass container with the scarlet liquid, thanking him for doing business with you. As he walks away, you flip the gold coin up into the air with your thumb and snatch it in one hand with a grin. But there’s still nine more bottles to sell, so you quickly take your place again.   “Get your potions. Get your resistance potions—!” Your attention is suddenly taken by a passing stranger with a rounded face, sleepy features and baby yellow hair shagging in front of his forehead. “Hey, you! Duckling hair!”   Yoongi turns around at the shout and realizes you’re looking right at him.   Duckling hair?   He pinches the strands on his head, eyes flickering up, confused as all hell.    “You don’t want to miss this chance!” You grin and hop over to him, pulling another bottle out of your satchel swirling with a pale, pastel yellow that matches his head. “Want a potion of resistance? It’s made from an ancient artificer in Chult who learnt from a warlock who specializes in herbalism kits!”   “N—”   “I bet it wouldn’t even cost you a dime.” Your eyes skim him from head to toe, eyeing his outer clothing that you know wasn’t cheap. He wears a black, ample cloak with a hood, wool shirt and a sturdy belt that holds two different swords, and brown boots like you. “You’re probably going to spend the same amount on some food or a place to stay at, so why not fork out some now? How often do you take leaps of faith? And it might be helpful for any upcoming adventures or expeditions! Very suitable for fighting beasts and creatures. You never know when you might need it and it might just save your life!”   You’re persistent — your coaxing’s a talent in itself. And against all odds, Yoongi finds himself forking over a gold piece to the grinning peasant girl with glittering irises.   But as he walks away, wondering why he bought one, he brings the stoppered bottle up to eye-level. Yoongi swishes it and he sighs, realizing it’s just water. Dyed water in a bottle.   Feeling like an idiot, he turns around.   But you’re already gone.   //   After a successful morning of business, you decide to satisfy the hunger in your stomach and the stout lady behind the stall seems just as ecstatic as you wolf down her boiled and fried shrimp.   You pass her a silver piece as you grab another skewer of pineapple and lemon shrimp, inhaling them within seconds. Eyes pinpointed on some pepper shrimp, you fish into your bag for another silver or copper piece, but all you come up with is gold.    Gold that you know you need to save.   “Ca’ I ge’ one on th’ house?” you ask with your cheeks full.   The plump woman glares. “No.”   You’re unable to pout when you’re chewing your mouthful, but you suppose it’s fair. There’s nothing free in life. But there are opportunities. And as you swallow down your food, a man approaches the stall. At once, you recognize his tender features and the strands of his blonde hair that remind you of rubber ducklings.    Yet, he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to you or recognize you from earlier.    You suppose this is fair too — after all, you’re dressed in peasant clothing that’s meant to easily be overlooked and disguise you amongst the crowd of commoners.   “What’s your most popular kind?” he asks the stall lady who happily smiles.   “Of course, it’s our shrimp gumbo,” she answers and it’s ironically the most expensive one.   “I’ll take two then.” The man with pale lemon-coloured hair takes two silver pieces out of his pocket, handing it to her and she nods, telling him that it’ll be right out. In the meanwhile, you eye his pocket and naturally shuffle over. Turning your head as if you’re looking in the other direction, your fingers dip into his open cloak pocket. But your luck is rotten this time.   The man turns his head.   He looks right at you.   “Hey!”   Your hand curls around a foreign object and you snatch it before taking off. You run, darting down the road as fast as your legs can take you. But when you turn your head, you nearly scream. He’s hot on your heels, his gentle features twisted in an intimidating scowl. He looks like he’s going to kill you and it only serves as motivation to sprint faster even if your lungs burn.   He chases you, but when you turn the corner of the street, you duck behind an alley.   Looking down, you cuss. It isn’t a sack full of coins. It’s a damn scroll.    Opening it, you find it’s been sent by Mirla Nistar, some random lady who you’ve never heard about, and it details a quest to help this woman in the case of her missing daughter.    It’s useless………..Or is it?   At the same time, Yoongi heaves for air. His hands are on his hip and he cusses, having lost sight of you. In the span of one day, he’s been scammed and stolen from.   The town of Millpass isn’t welcoming at all.

As much as Yoongi wants to get out of this place, he knows he can’t until tomorrow at the earliest. He still has a responsibility to fulfill here, or rather, a favour. He’s been called to help his mentor’s old friend and if he didn’t respect her so much, he would’ve already left.   “Oh my goodness, you must be who Mirala sent! Come in, come in.” The tubby woman wearing three strands of pearls widens the door. He nods his head silently and makes sure to wipe off his dirty boots before he follows her inside her abode. He eyes her massive painted portrait hanging in the main room above the mantle that seems to follow him wherever he goes.    The ceiling is high, golden curtains draping the large bay windows into her garden bed and a couch and two armchairs are arranged in a semi-circle. The only luminescence comes from the orange glow of the roaring fireplace and Yoongi notices a buff Dragonborn barbarian seated comfortably in one of the armchairs, staring at the flames as if entranced.   Yoongi takes a seat and the Dragonborn seems to notice him, turning to stare.   “Hello. My name is Yoongi.”   The Dragonborn merely grunts.   “Tea anyone?” the woman tottles over with a tray.   Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m fine, thank you.”   The woman looks over to the Dragonborn and he nods. She pours it for him and drops in two sugar cubes but he never takes a sip. Yoongi clears his throat and looks to the clock, watching the arms tick away. “Is this everyone?” he asks, not expecting he would have to take this journey with only one other person.   Usually an adventure of this capacity would take four to five, but he didn’t mind.   The fewer people, the more efficient and faster the quest can be completed.   “I guess so.” The woman musters a smile and takes a seat. “I’m just grateful that anyone showed up to help me at all. If you don’t know my name is Sorli Stav and my….my daughter, Mina Stav, was taken by a dragon.”   The Dragonborn sputters and then clears his throat. Yoongi cocks a brow but returns his attention to the woman so she can continue telling her story.   “One minute we were in the middle of the forest and the next, I heard this roar and there was wind and then she was being taken! Gone! Just like that! Oh, my poor baby!” She clutches her pearls and wails ear-piercingly. “Please help her! It has to be the Dragon of the North. No one would do such a treacherous thing as to kidnap someone in broad daylight like that!”   “My condolences,” Yoongi offers to console her. His hands are placed on his knees and his posture is straight. “We will try our best to rescue her, rest assured.”   She nods, wiping the area beneath her eyes gingerly with her ring finger. “I have a sister in Rutherglen. Ashal Stav. She can help you. She lives close to the North. Please…”   Yoongi turns to find the Dragonborn staring at the flames that flicker. He’s been strangely silent so far. But then his lips part and he speaks three words...in an odd voice, slightly muffled but reminiscent of a child trying to lower their pitch. “What’s the reward?”   “What?” The woman’s head lifts and she exclaims, “Anything! I’ll do anything! You can have anything you’d like! Even my daughter’s hand in marriage.”   “No. I want gold.” The Dragonborn sharply inhales and leans forward while looking around the room as if estimating how much the house is worth. “How about ten thousand gold pieces….”   Yoongi nearly chokes. But he doesn’t comment — he’s met many different adventurers after all and each of them have their own motivations and quirks that are unnecessary to argue against.   “That’s all I have in my vault,” she murmurs, disheartedly.   “Five thousand for each of us. I think that’s fair. After all, the risk of fighting a dragon is substantially high and we’re putting our lives on the line. Unless….you don’t think your daughter is worth that much,” he mutters, clearly persuading the woman and succeeding in it.   “Deal! I’ll do it!” she agrees wholeheartedly and the Dragonborn barbarian grins.   “Of course, we’ll need half of the prepayment first before we can embark.”   She rises to her feet immediately. “I’ll run upstairs and scrape up what I can!”   Yoongi stares at the brute Dragonborn whose face glows in the fire’s crimson light. And the Dragonborn finally takes the dainty teacup to drink from it, pinky raised in the air.    The moment the lady comes back and the payment of two thousand five hundred gold pieces for each of them are given out, there are a few farewells said. She pleads with them to help her daughter until the last second and both nod, reassuring her that the girl will return shortly. But the moment the door shuts and Yoongi looks to his side, the Dragonborn has vanished.   He finds him down the road and quickly catches up. “Shouldn’t we discuss our plans?”   “Huh? Yeah, maybe in the morning.” The Dragonborn clears his throat. “It’s getting late, isn’t it?”   “Wait. I don’t know your name,” Yoongi says, coming to a realization and quickening his pace when the Dragonborn walks faster.   “It’s Robert.”   The Dragonborn begins to break out into a light jog, getting farther away from him. Yoongi’s brows furrow deeper, exasperated by the evasiveness of his partner. He still has countless questions, needs to set a time and place they can meet tomorrow, so he shouts, “hold on!” and Yoongi extends his hand.   Except, his fingers go straight through where the Dragonborn’s shoulder should be.    Like it’s an illusion.   The two of them look right at each other.    Yoongi’s mouth opens. His eyes are wide. He’s baffled beyond speech. But then the Dragonborn takes off without another moment to waste, sprinting down the road. And it’s déjà vu.    “Hey!”   Unfortunately for the Dragonborn barbarian, he’s unable to make his getaway. Not when he’s too busy paying attention to Yoongi chasing him and not straight ahead. And his body collides roughly with another.    “Watch it, you!” the stranger snarls and it’s a stranger with the exact same face as his. “Wait a minute….!”   Yoongi catches up and looks between the two of them in absolute bewilderment. He wonders if this is some nonsensical dream or if he’s fallen into another plane of existence when there are two duplicates of every entity.   The two of them look up and down one another as if mirror reflections. They wear the exact same clothing, their faces exactly alike down to the detail, the weapons they carry the same.   “Who are you?!”   “W-Who are you?”   But on closer inspection, Yoongi finds tiny details that make all the differences. The Dragonborn he was speaking to is shorter and visibly thinner. The other Dragonborn, on the other hand, is towering in stature and his voice booms menacingly down the night street illuminated by lamp posts.   The Dragonborn Yoongi’s unfamiliar with steps forward and draws his greataxe. “I am Astrid, the Great from the Yarjerit clan! I am a descendant of the Wyrm Regent of the North, an ancient Golden Dragon from Everlund.”   Yet the Dragonborn beside him doesn’t back down. “I am Robert, the Great from the Yarjerit clan! I am a descendant of the Wyrm Regent of the North, an ancient Golden Dragon from Everlund.”   “Liar! You think I would not know everyone in my family?!”   “You’re the liar! You think I would not know everyone in my family?!”    It’s utterly ridiculous and Yoongi’s about to walk away from the sheer senselessness of the situation that’s worsening his headache. But then the Dragonborn who was with him flickers. Like the flame of a candle. Parts of his body become translucent, fading and flashing. He looks down at himself as if coming to a realization and cusses—   “Shit! Fuck.”   The spell ends.   The claws turn to fingers, mess of ropy hair morphing into two braids, golden scales and reptilian frills to smooth skin. The hide armor alter back into a brown dress, white chemise tucked into a full brown skirt and a bodice crisscrossed over to hold the attire together.   You’re fucked.   Yoongi’s eyes become rounded, his expression clearly telling you that he finally recalls who you are — but there’s little to dwell on when there’s a much larger threat at hand that also recognizes you.   “Wait a minute!” The real Dragonborn barbarian huffs from his nose. “I know you! You sold me that fake potion from earlier! You’re that fraud!”   “I prefer the title charlatan,” you say with a tiny smile and then slide behind Yoongi for cover.   Yoongi’s face twists in distaste, his mouth goes lopsided and his brows knit together as he looks at you, the conniving peasant girl who stole from him and scammed him too. But before he can move aside and let you deal with the consequences of your own actions, the Dragonborn clutches his greataxe with both hands and a battle cry tears from his throat.   Yoongi sighs in exhaustion and pulls his rapier from its sheath.   The Dragonborn barbarian swings. The axe hits Yoongi in his left shoulder but the blade is dull and not deep enough to make a real cut. The impact does more harm, but his grip tightens and he slashes the barbarian. It’s a critical hit, causing the Dragonborn to stumble back and Yoongi surges forward once, slicing the other male’s arm.   He shouts in pain and surrenders, backing away.   “I’ll find you again, thief! This isn’t over!” he swears and you peek out from hiding behind Yoongi’s frame.   The Dragonborn’s eyes narrow and he turns, eventually disappearing down the dark street.   Once the coast is clear, you finally breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks for that, Yoongi. You really saved me there. I thought I was going to be in trouble for a second.”   You grin. It’s good to put a name to a face...or rather, a name to some hair. Calling him duckling right now wouldn’t be appropriate after all. But the man appears entirely unamused with your familiarity with him.    His brow cocks and his glare is only slightly intimidating. “What’s your real name?”   You hum. “Sorry, can’t tell you that.”   Yoongi scoffs and extends his arm, opening up his palm. “I want my scroll back and I want a refund.” The faster he gets his belongings returned to him, the faster he can leave. “You gave me dyed water.”   “I would give you back your gold piece, but I’m afraid I already spent it.” You smile brightly, hoping he doesn’t count the heavy sack of two thousand five hundred gold in your bag of holding. “And I left the scroll at Sorli Stav’s house. It’s not like you need it though, right?”   His impassive expression never changes.   “How about I strike you a deal?” You come closer, arms behind your back. “I was going to run away with the prepayment, but I’ll join you in your quest as a way to show my gratitude.”   Your eyes flicker down, scanning the expanse of the human fighter. You have absolutely zero plans of joining him in crawling into a dragon’s lair, but he doesn’t need to know that. All that matters is that he’s proven himself capable and strong. It might just be beneficial to go along with him for a little while. He could protect you, at least until your journey to Bogsburrough.    But the man never answers your offer, he merely scoffs.   //   It’s bright and early in the morning when you finally see a certain duckling-hair male exit the inn. He’s stretching his limbs, features still sleepy. But the process of getting the kinks out of his neck is interrupted when his eyes stray to you and he realizes you’re looking right at him.   “About time.” You approach, having been leaning against a wheelbarrow across the road with your arms crossed. You need to get out of here before that Dragonborn barbarian finds you again and tries to dig that axe into your leg. “I’ve been waiting for a good hour.”   “I have no plans in letting you join me,” he states in a husky timbre, already walking off.   You sync your steps with his, joining his side as you tilt your head and enjoy the azure shade of the sky. “That’s too bad then, but looks like we’re going in the same direction. What a great coincidence!” As if to mock him, you grin and hold up the scroll you claimed to have lost. Yoongi glares and snatches it back.   “Do whatever you want,” he mutters without looking at you and pockets the scroll.   You click your tongue in annoyance, falling behind him.    “Unlikable prick,” you curse in Elvish.    Suddenly, Yoongi turns around, bringing you to an abrupt halt. “That’s a new one. Usually people call me moody or a cold bastard. But if you have something to say, then at least be honest with yourself and say it to my face.”   You’re shocked.   You can feel your face heat with embarrassment, but more than that, you’re impressed.   With a newfound vigor and enthusiasm, you catch up with him and even overtake his speed. You lean close to the man, inspecting his facial features and ears closely. But he doesn’t look like an elf. “Are you a Half-Elf? How can you speak Elvish so fluently?”   “No, I’m not a Half-Elf,” Yoongi sighs halfheartedly. “I was just taught the language.”   Just like you.   You’re curious. Maybe the two of you had more similarities than you thought.   “Sorry, my bad,” you apologize in the foreign language with a cheeky smile, following along happily.    Eventually, the both of you leave the town of Millpass behind with your little bags and belongings, taking the path up North. Or at least that’s what you’re assuming with the way Yoongi pulls out his map and tilts it around every so often. Part of you worries he doesn’t know where he’s going, but if he got to Millpass in the first place then you know he’ll figure it out.   After all, it’s not like you’re eager to go complete this little quest of his.   Payment of no payment, you don’t fuck with dragons. You’re the last person who should fight one.   “I have a plan. A way I think the both of us can come to an agreement on.”   “Which is?” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, still concentrated on his little map.   “What do you think of commissioning other heroes to go fight this battle for us?” you offer with glittering eyes. “We can pay them a hundred gold pieces each, which is quite a lot. And then we can go back to Sorli Stav and collect the rest of our reward. We wouldn’t profit as much, but it’s worth it and there’s no risk of danger!”   Yoongi eyes you in silence. “You’re good at persuading others, aren’t you?”   You scoff, lifting your chin up high. “Of course. I should be! It’s my career, after all. I’m a business woman.”   “A cheat?”   “A business woman,” you insist much to his amusement.   From the corner of your eye, you swear Yoongi smiles.   The forest is humble, lush, and blooming. Its canopy is eclipsed by willow, elm, and sycamore, their leaves and branches allow for just enough light to cascade through to the grass beds beneath. The array of common flowers adds a playful element and makes it brighter, letting you enjoy the view as you take the stone path winding through the trees.    Yoongi is often quiet, you realize. Maybe he’s not one for making small conversation or he’s suspicious of you — which you wouldn’t blame him for considering the things you’ve done and the nature of your occupation. So your ears tune to the buzzing of the insects and the birds chirping overhead. Until the noises are overridden by boots and other voices in the evening.   “Oh I can’t wait to get myself some pork chop and curds. I’ve been craving it for a whole month.”   “No way! Our first meal is totally going to be cheese pie and onion soup! That tastes a lot better than pork chops!”   “Nu-uh!”   Another voice pipes up, “How about minted pea soup?”    They’re a group of adventurers. You can’t see it in their weary faces, worn clothing, and weapons at their sides. And immediately you grin. The timing couldn’t be any better.   “Oh!” They stop when your groups cross paths. Their excited eyes meet yours and Yoongi’s; the man is much more reluctant than you are. But you suppose he isn’t naturally enthused in the first place. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen other people! Are you travelers as well?”   “Something of the sort.” You smile, arms placed behind your back and by the glare Yoongi pins to the back of your head, you know he can tell there’s an idea brewing in your head.   With the sun falling over the horizon after a long day of journeying, it’s rather easy to persuade them if you and Yoongi can join them in setting up camp. They seem eager to allow you in as well as if they’ve missed seeing new faces around and you wholly take advantage of that.   “This is Alvyn,” the leader gestures to the small, fey creature with a warhammer discarded by his side as he’s busy digging into a frog on a skewer. “He’s our cleric Gnome.”   “Nice to meet you,” he says past a cheekful and you swear some of the food flings into Yoongi’s face, making the man glower and wipe his forehead.   “This is Thunder from Bright Cliffs Clan,” the Half-Elf gestures towards the catlike humanoid. He’s slender and covered in spotted fur, a long tail flickering behind him and retractable claws that digs into his roasted chicken thigh. You look between him and Yoongi, perplexed at how much Yoongi looks like a cat as well. But you don’t voice it out when the man glares at you for staring at him for so long. “He’s our Tabaxi ranger.”   “And I’m just an old man,” the old man pipes up with a hearty chuckle and thick accent you recognize from the South. “Chester’s my name, but everyone calls me Chuck.”   “He’s our Druid,” the Half-Elf says with a smile. “And I’m Greg, a Half-Elf bard.” He’s as tall as Yoongi is, but with longer hair, the tips of his ears pointed and he’s much more poised.   “Nice to meet you. I’m just a peasant girl.” Yoongi scoffs and it’s your turn to glare. But when he never introduces himself, you nudge him roughly, jabbing your elbow in his ribs until he relents with an enormous sigh.   “Yoongi. Human. Fighter.”   “Sorry, he’s unsociable.”   “Not to worry!” Greg laughs. “It’s just nice to meet you all. Where were you headed?”   “We’re going to Castrow,” you lie without even blinking. “My husband and I are visiting his mother.”   Yoongi is sorely unimpressed. But the others nod joyfully, looking between the pair of you as if they didn’t expect you to have that kind of relationship. Though, they don’t question it as if it’s completely believable.    “That’s quite a long way away,” Chuck says, “You ought to be careful around these neck of the woods, you never know what might jump out of you.”   “That’s right!” Alvyn exclaims. “There might be wolves.”   “It’s okay. My dearest husband will protect me.” You grin at Yoongi but his expression remains impassive and he makes no comment much to your dismay.   They seem like a capable group, one that can fight a dragon off and might just be willing to do it for a hundred gold coins each. It might take some sweet-talking to convince and hire them, but you don’t think it’ll be particularly difficult. For now though, you try to get yourself acquainted with them and build some rapport.    “Hey, isn’t that going to burn?” Yoongi taps you on your shoulder and you break out of your trance. He points to the mutton you have at the end of your stick that’s being roasted in the fire.   You pull it out and it’s charred all around, a thin layer of black. You shrug. “I like it like that.”   Yoongi watches you eat it and his face twists as if he’s biting into a lemon.   The entire group is seated around the campfire and you’re sitting especially close, not worried at all by the sparks. It’s comforting and you feel a natural pull to stare at the red and orange flames, listen to the crackle and sputter of the fire, watch the smoke until you fall asleep…   But you force yourself out of it when there’s an abrupt scream.   The Gnome is shrieking terrifyingly, black boot upside down in hand. Then, he bursts out laughing in embarrassment. “A spider got into my boot!”   “No worries.” The Tabaxi is sympathetic. “That’s happened to me more times than I can count!”   “Who’s turn is it to tell a story?” Chuck says mid-chew. “It better be a good one and not like that one about the snake that gave that apple to that lady in the garden. That was terribly boring.”   “It’s my turn.” Greg raises his arm and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. You and Yoongi are getting whiplash, turning your heads and trying to keep up with their fast-paced conversation.    Greg clears his throat. “Back when I was in Al’bamo, I heard this wondrous tale. Many whispered his name. A boy, called Jungkook, said he made a heavier-than-air machine, that could fly without magic.”   There are ooh’s and ahh’s around the campfire.   You look around at them, watching the way they lean in as Greg continues, “He rode what was called ‘The Airplane’ out of a cliff, as a crowd watched him fly it into the unknown. Legend says Jungkook will one day return, giving flying machines to everyone.”   Uh-oh. One of your worst fears is manifesting—   They’re idiots.   “Excuse me,” you raise your voice and enunciate each syllable carefully. “What adventure exactly did you just embark on?”   “Why, we were sent to investigate why animals in the forest have suddenly dropped down dead and why people who have wandered inside have gone missing!” Chuck says as he strokes his white beard and the others around him nod. “We went in and got lost for a full week! Had no clue where we were going whatsoever!”   “You...didn’t have a map?” Yoongi asks, interested in the story as well.   “We did,” Greg says, “But then we found out no one could read it.”   The old man laughs. “Anyhow, we really thought we were going to die of starvation or dehydration, whatever comes first. Then luckily, we happened to come across a pond, so we drank from it. But the water was poisonous!”   The Tabaxi shivers as if he can still recall. The Half-Elf nods along.   You’re listening while becoming progressively more horrified.   “Then we ate some leaves and those were poisonous too!” Part of you wants to believe these are all exaggerated lies to build up the comedic effect but by each creature’s expressions, you can’t detect a single shred of deception. “What do you know, the ogre who was wreaking havoc in the forest came by and thought we were dead. So he dragged us to his cave to eat us, but right when we were put in the water, the ogre suddenly clutched his chest and fell over.”   Your brows shoot up. “A heart attack?”    They shrug.   “Anywho, we stumbled out of there, fell down a few ditches, rolled down a few hills. Almost died again. Then this little fellow,” Chuck says as he signals to the Gnome cleric, “found us and cured us from the poison and now we’re alive!”   “We defeated the ogre!” Greg declares with a giant hurrah and they high five one another.   In the meanwhile, you and Yoongi exchange equally skeptical expressions.    They accomplished their goal out of astronomical sheer luck — which is a talent in itself.    But you can’t rely on pure fortune.    Looking at them with clearer perception, you know it’ll be an impossibility for them to fight a dragon and not die trying. They’ll never be able to do your bidding for you.   Night falls and there’s a little more conversation exchanged before they’ve all fallen asleep.   You’re sleepy as well, knees gathered to your chest, arms wrapped around and your head beginning to bob as you stare at the blazing inferno. You’re sitting close but you’re most comfortable there where the fire is right in front of you and the flames nearly lick at your cheeks.   “This is not going to work,” you murmur to Yoongi whom you still know is wide awake. He’s distrustful of others — you can tell with the way he refuses to relax around these strangers, still seated straight and his vision swooping around the darkness of the forest. “It’s not worth investing in this group.”   He laughs, the sound mellifluous in your ears and above the crackle of the bonfire. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”   “I’ll just go,” you exhale in exhaustion. “The reward is worth it anyways, but I can’t promise I’ll help you fight that dragon.”   Yoongi hums a low note deep within his chest and shifts his gaze towards you. He finds the fire is yet to die out. If anything, it’s brighter and more blazing than before. He observes the way you poke and prod at it, as if you don’t have it in you to let it die out.   “What kind of magical caster are you?” Yoongi asks. He knows full well the only ones who can disguise themselves the way you can are bards, sorcerers, or wizards. But you don’t have musical instruments with you or any magical items he’s seen either.   “What do you mean?” You turn to him, blinking once. “I’m just a normal peasant girl.”   He scoffs, knowing better than to believe you.   And a smile forms on your features.   You return to stare at the fire, listening to the soothing sputter and pop.    “My name is Y/N,” you murmur and Yoongi never says anything in response. But if you turned around, you would see the way your name forms it on his lips, speaking it silently as if it’s something to remember.   //   The pair of you continue your journey and the group of ‘heroes’ are sad to bid you farewell, but you’re happy to get rid of them. If there was anything more than a sham than you, it was them.   You can already envision them going back to town and being celebrated — without anyone actually being aware that they did absolutely nothing. They’ll reap the benefits and rewards, have feasts and be honoured. But you suppose that’s the way life is. The undeserving often are the most praised. It’s not like you mind it though, sometimes it can be good to take advantage of.   You’re also glad to get rid of them considering it’s less chaotic and much quieter. You prefer it when it’s just you and Yoongi. His company is rather pleasant, even when you’re used to just traveling by yourself.   “You know, we can take a shortcut to Rutherglen through Bogsburrough. Have you ever heard of it?”   “I’ve heard of it.” He side-eyes you. “But it’s a detour, not a shortcut.”   “It’ll be a detour that’ll be worth it.” You grin. “I’ll make sure of it.”   Yoongi scoffs, about to ask you how you’ll do that — but the banter is abruptly cut short when a massive mastiff comes bounding by. It’s an impressive hound with taupe fur, big enough that a Hafling could probably ride it. You’ve only seen a mastiff once before when it was trained as a guard dog for some affluent lady.   You’ve certainly never witnessed one walking itself through the forest without a care in the world.   Yoongi is as bewildered as you are.   But a minute later, an exhausted warrior is lurching forward, holding a leash attached to a broken collar as he tries to catch his breath. Then he stops a meter away, pathetically sobbing and wailing at the top of his lungs. He cries something akin to ‘come back!’.   While Yoongi is prepared to continue walking, much to his dismay, you approach the warrior.   “Is there something wrong?” you ask in spite of already having a good idea.   “M-My hunting dog just ran off! He’s been...been running off for an hour! Oh, Sparks!”   You hum a low note, arms crossed as you look in the distance where the mastiff went. It’s an opportunity, one that’s presented itself and you’ve made a living capitalizing on these opportunities.   “Tell you what.” You turn to him, eyes already glittering. “I’ll catch that little pet of yours at a price.”   He’s easily persuaded and even looks at you as if you’re his last hope. “I’ll give you all the riches I have.”   And that’s how you and Yoongi end up straying off the stone path, ankle deep in the forest floor’s tickling grass while screaming, “Sparks! Sparks, where are you?!”   “Come here, doggy!”   Yoongi gets tired faster than you do. He was reluctant to follow your whims in the first place, but now his voice gets quieter and his arms droop to his side. You don’t blame him — he doesn’t seem to be like someone who enjoys the sweltering sun or buzzing insects trying to nip him.   “Don’t give up, duckling!” you shout as encouragement, trying to boost his morale and his head cranes towards you, the most unimpressed expression etched on his features.   “I don’t get why you volunteered to do this.”   “What? You don’t take me as the altruistic type?” You burst out laughing when his blank face remains the same, clearly not buying your act. “He said he would give us twenty gold pieces. That’s a lot even for something like this.”   It goes silent as you both venture deeper into the forest, twisting through the trees and making sure you don’t trip over any branches. But then he breaks the quietness with a question.    “Why are you trying so hard to collect gold?”   “Because I have a dream,” you murmur softly with a smile, stealing a glance at Yoongi to see him already staring at you intently. “I want to build a big house in the middle of nowhere, preferably a meadow. I’d read books all day, paint, garden. Anything. But it’ll be a place I can call my own. I’d get a wizard to put up a wall of force for me too, so no one could find me. My family won’t be able to find me.”   Yoongi stares at you, wondering why you have such a desire, what led you to it, why you would want to hide from your family. But he supposes it’s nothing particularly strange. After all, he’s here because of his family too.   Maybe it’s something the two of you have in common.   “I haven’t told anyone this before,” you mutter out loud as you come to the realization and then you twirl around to face him, smiling widely. “A secret for a secret. It’s only fair.”   The blonde man scoffs. “I never agreed to that.”   “I only know your name. Or are you purposely trying to keep up the mysterious front? I bet you think it’s attractive, don’t you?” Your eyes mischievously sweep him up and down, and Yoongi finds your gaze oddly invasive. A sly smirk even appears on your lips. “I bet it works for you too, doesn’t it? You like it when girls wonder about you and they like wondering about you too.”    “No.”   “Uh-huh, skirt chaser. Listen, I won’t judge you for your strategies. If they work, then they work.”   If Yoongi could expend the rest of the air in his body for the longest sigh, he would. “For your information, I am an honourable knight from the Order of the Black Sun. Mirla Nistar was my mentor and she’s taught and trained me in the Great Weapon Fighting technique for the past decade. She’s old friends with Sorli Stav and this quest is a favour I’m doing for her.”   Yoongi clears his throat. “I actually come from a rather famous family—”   But you’re not paying any attention.   “Shush!” You’ve found the mastiff. It’s a shadow barely from the distance and before Yoongi can strategize a plan to take it, you sprint after the beast. “Sparks, you motherfucker!”   Yoongi groans and then runs after you. He pulls out his rapier, the sword sharply cutting through the wind, but you turn around with a frown. “Don’t.”   His brows furrow, unsure of what you mean and what your plans are. But then he watches as you hold something discreetly in your bag and murmur something beneath your breath, how you open your other palm and a giant bone appears in your hand. Yoongi pays close attention and realizes it’s not conjured. It’s an illusion.   One that the mastiff fails to detect.   Instead, he sees the delectable bone for what it is and you make an effort to throw it in the area you came from. “Go get it, boy!”    The mastiff leaps through the forest for the illusionary bone, the same direction his owner is waiting.   //   Yoongi swears this is the happiest he’s ever seen you — humming with a skip in your step, throwing your heavy sack of gold pieces up and down your right hand while there’s a permanent cheery smile plastered across your cheeks.    Well this might be one of several times he’s seen you in this state. He remembers you were fairly enthused when he relented and allowed you to follow him in the first place. You also seemed pretty delighted when you scammed him too.   The coins clink as you toss it and Yoongi scoffs, finally tearing his eyes away from you. “I want my half.”   “I know,” you sing-song. “We’re a team now and I’m fair in square, for your information.”   He almost snorts. “Sure.”   “What? You don’t believe me?”   “I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up with all my weapons gone and my own clothing stripped.”   “Hmm, that makes you smart then,” you snicker and the corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls. “We should set up camp before the sun goes down. It’s getting cold.”   He pulls out his rolled map from his pocket and spreads it. “We could, but there's a tavern inn stop about half an hour away,” he says and your ears perk. “I don’t know if you want to—”   Yoongi doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before you’re already running.   He laughs and wonders just how much energy you have. What’s stranger is the fact that energetic people tend to drain him, yet somehow you keep him from being tired like he usually is.    You spin around when you’re half-way down the path. “C’mon, old man! I’ll even treat you!”   Yoongi scoffs, but his lips curl into a smile.   It’s night by the time you arrive — the two of you are exhausted, feet aching with an intense need to rest them. The tavern is placed rather oddly, right on the side of the road by the forest with the candlelights inside glowing on the path. But with the noise from inside, you suppose it’s an unexpectedly good location. After all, there are countless travelers who are always searching for a rest stop like this one.   Unfortunately, your beeline straight to the door is impeded by a drunk.   “Hey, watch it!” you cuss at them when your shoulders collide. “Idiot.”   But as you turn around, you freeze.   The stranger is a Goliath monk who is eight feet tall. You can tell with his gray skin that’s littered with tiny growths akin to pebbles and darker patches. And he towers over you, glowing green eyes peering into your fragile soul. The Goliath reeks of alcohol, unsteady on his feet, but gaze unwavering. You notice the way his hands are wrapped in brass knuckles, his armor clanking.   “You wanna fight?!” his voice bellows out and you immediately hide behind Yoongi.   Yoongi holds in his sigh, mind already cursing you. He’s sure you’re the absolute bane of his existence and one day will get him killed, but for now, he stands tall and his chin lifts.   The Goliath monk isn’t intimidated, yet he turns with narrowed eyes lingering on the pair of you.   Once he’s gone, Yoongi cranes his neck and glares.   “Can you try not getting us killed for once?”   “Hey, it wasn’t my fault! He still bumped into me. Plus, I had it under control.”   “Control, huh?” His brow cocks and he eyes you.   You grin and correct yourself, “You had it under control, oh great knight from the Order of the Red Dragon and my sole protector, Yoongi.”   “It’s Order of the Black Sun,” he exhales and opens the door before you can land yourself in more trouble out here. “And I never agreed to protect you.”   “Yeah, but you still do anyway…”   The tavern is bustling, a good amount of creatures already crowded around tables with their own drinks in hand. They’re all travelers from different kinds of places, having gathered for a night of proper rest with a roof over their heads. You and Yoongi head over to the bar, taking the menu from a busty waitress.   “She your type?” you lean in close, wiggling your brows. Yoongi is unamused and you laugh. “What? Hey, I won’t judge. I understand a man’s needs. Might even help you out if you want me too — I got a way with words.”   He doesn’t think you realize the implication of what you’re saying. But he shoves you away before you can feel the way his face heats unusually.    You’re interrupted by the barkeep, a rough-looking dwarf standing on a wooden stool to reach the counter. “What can I do ya folks for?”   The pair of you finally look over the selection, but are completely overwhelmed. There’s a hundred things and by the third page Yoongi flips, you give up on reading it all. “Surprise us.”   “Sure thin’.” The barkeep goes to grab a glass and selection of bottles, fluidly flipping them back and forth and pouring different substances into it. He juggles them, but without the intent to impress — he’s simply doing his job and it’s even more remarkable.    There’s a bright flash of fire at some point and you gasp, eyes glittering.   Then, the barkeep slaps down a crimson shot in front of Yoongi. “Go ahead.”   Yoongi, on the other hand, is much less excited than you are and skeptically stares at it. “What is it?”   “Tell ya afterwards,” the barkeep answers.   Yet, the man is still carefully assessing the liquid and sloshes it as if he’s worried it’ll be poisonous. You nudge him hard enough that he almost falls off the stool. “C’mon, duckling! Don’t be a wuss.”   Yoongi glares at you, eyes half-lidded and he never breaks eye contact when he brings the glass to his lips, taking the entire shot in one smooth motion. The liquid burns.    As you’re wondering if he makes those bedroom eyes to every female he comes into contact with and if that’s part of his mysterious moves to seduce, he tears away from you and wheezes.   You burst out laughing.   Yoongi feels the hot embrace of hell in his lungs. “W-What is that?!” It’s as if he drank fire itself and he feels warm from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, already breaking a sweat at his hairline.   “Drink’s called a Fireball,” the barkeep grins, happy that the effect worked. “Just like the spell, eh? And you even get that cold resistance for the next thirt’ minutes.”   “Did it taste good?” You lean in, eyes glittering with curiosity.   “I thought I was going to die.”   It’s your turn next and you watch in amazement as the barkeep makes your drink. A whole glass gets slapped in front of you afterwards instead of a shot. It’s clear with opalesque swirls with specks of glowing pink lights. It already reeks of alcohol, more than Yoongi’s did.   “Made with Tiefling fire vodka, dash of pixie sugar dust, teaspoon of honey, an’ two spells. One is faerie fire and the other ain’t named, but ’s an ancient spell of warlock origin.” The spiel sounds like something you’d make up on a whim, but it’s intriguing. “Go ahead, girl.”   Yoongi opens his mouth. “Wai—”   But it’s too late. You’re already drinking. Then the taste explodes into your mouth. Your eyes grow wide at how amazing it is. It tastes like tropical juice, pineapple and raspberries with a kind of smokiness to it that reminds you of the charcoal of a fire or burnt crisp around meat.    It’s amazing and you down the entire thing within seconds.   You slap the glass to the counter in a ‘thump’, a burp leaving your stomach. You’re dazed, mind clouded, unable to think properly even when Yoongi worriedly calls your name thrice.   “Drink’s called Nyssa’s Nectar,” the barkeep slurs with a ginormous grin. You feel strange, the tips of your fingers tingling and your limbs itching. It isn’t just your eyes or your imagination either. “Turns you into the opposite gender. Right down to your clothes!”   Suddenly, your legs expand, your arms grow more muscular, your hair morphs into a shorter form and your dress distorts into pants and a tunic.    “What?!”   “Really?!”   Yoongi is appalled, his jaw dropped. In the meanwhile, you’re giggling in amazement while you check your pants, gasping at what you see inside. “Don’t worry, it wears off in the mornin’,” the barkeep informs and then tottles away to serve the next customers.    “Yes!” you drunkenly laugh and noisily cheer. “This is the best disguise yet!”   “I can’t believe—...hey! Where are you going?!”   You’ve stumbled off your stool to a table of two female elves, leaning over with a sly smirk.    “Heyo, females. Wanna try a potion?” You pull two stoppered bottles out from your bag, clutching it tightly. “They’re philter of love! Get any creature you wanna charm for an hour! Don’t waste an opportunity like this—” Mid-hiccup, you turn around to see tender features and a mop of pale yellow hair reminiscent to a duckling’s fur. “Hey, Yoongi! Wanna buy one? It’ll be five hundred gold!”   “I’m so sorry for her— his behaviour.” He grabs your collar and starts to pull you away while the elves giggle. But Yoongi doesn’t get a hold of you for long. Your passion for selling is big and you scramble out of his grasps to another table of adventurers with bottles overflowing your arms.   It’s the last thing you remember.   //   There’s a deafening bang.   You groan, whining Yoongi’s name and mumbling to sleep in another five minutes. But—   “Get up!” The barkeep yells, loud enough to burst your eardrums. You open your eyes, wincing from the bright sunlight coming through the windows and you lift your head off the wooden table, coming face to face with the dwarf. “Ya got a duel at noon and you got fifteen minutes left. Better get goin’, eh?”   “What?”   You look to your side where Yoongi’s also fallen asleep, unaffected by the noise like he’s a brick and not a human. It takes a good minute for what the barkeep told you to sink in, and then you’re shaking Yoongi frantically.   “What.” he grunts angrily.   “Yoongi, Yoongi. Get up. I challenged someone to a duel at noon and there’s only fifteen minutes left. Oh lord, if you don’t help me, they’re going to come find me and I’m going to die!”   There’s a sigh. Then he raises his head, eyes narrowed. “What?”   Creatures are gathered outside the tavern on the road, most likely patrons from last night. They form a long oval, encircling both you and Yoongi in and not allowing either of you to escape. At the other end stands an eight feet tall Goliath monk — the same one you bumped into last night.    But he doesn’t seem to remember you from that incident.   “That scrawny boy ran like a coward!” The Goliath’s voice booms, rousing on the crowd of bored travelers who haven’t watched a proper match in ages. He’s referring to your male form and then points at Yoongi. “No matter! He was your friend, no? He was with you all night! You will fight in his place!”   The Goliath’s glowing eyes pierce into Yoongi’s and you peek out from right behind him.   You have no idea what you said to make the Goliath so pissed. Usually monks are fairly peaceful and they don’t drink either, but there seems to be plenty of exceptions to the rules at the moment.   “I am very, very sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur in his ear. “I swear, I’ll make it up to you ten folds.”   He turns his head slightly. “I am going to kill you.”   You pat him on the back, ignoring his blatant threat. “Don’t worry, I’ll support you from behind.”   At once, the Goliath monk runs forward and attacks Yoongi with his closed fist. The punch slams straight into his abdomen and you move out of the way, wincing. Yoongi’s air is knocked out of his lungs. He wheezes and the Goliath swings again, missing once and barely grazing Yoongi’s arm on the other.   The crowd cheers like a bunch of maniacs and Yoongi draws his shortsword from his side. He swings twice, slashing against the Goliath’s chest. He surges forward, managing another slice.    But the Goliath looks barely affected, merely pushed back and angered.    Your jaw clenches and you reach out, hand wrapping around Yoongi’s wrist. You yank him back so he’s behind you and his eyes widen at what’s in your other hand. It’s an orb with swirling orange and blazing red — as if fire has been encapsulated into a crystal ball.    It’s an arcane object. A spellcasting focus.   It’s the way arcane spells can channel their power.   And you let go of him in favour of pointing your finger at the Goliath. Suddenly, a bright streak flashes out of your skin towards the eight foot male, blossoming into an explosion of flames with a low roar. There are terrifying screams and shouts, the crowd dispersing and running for their lives before they’re burnt to a crisp.   Yoongi looks away when the light becomes overwhelming and the Goliath shouts in pain.   When the fire disperses, the Goliath is still standing and storms towards you. He lands an attack on your right shoulder, punching you enough to bruise. He frantically throws two more hits but misses both times when his movements are no longer calculated.   Yoongi takes the opportunity to slice his sword twice more on the Goliath. Then you throw another fireball from your fingertips, allowing the flames to bloom and roar towards him.   When the smoke dissipates, the Goliath is on the ground, unconscious.   You grin, clapping your hands at the outcome of the duel in place of the audience that’s disappeared. But Yoongi looks at you, both unamused and impressed.    His brow lifts. “Just a peasant girl?”    You give him a cheesy smile. ���With maybe a little magic.”   //   Bogsburrough is a town hidden in a thick swamp to avoid governments and large cities. It’s a dismal place with rotting trees and a certain stench in the air, each of your steps sinking in its mud. But many valued illegal goods are made in this area and traded, such as fatal poisons, meat of endangered species, addictive substances, and many other items treasured by outlaws.   The underground market is also rich with life, a bustle in itself. Bandits dressed in black have set up stalls along with other crooks and fugitives, servicing wanderers and travelers alike.   You and Yoongi are two of these people taking a look around.   “Yoooongi, I’m sorry,” you whisper in his ear for the thousandth time, glued right by his side. He’s been silent so far and you know with that look on his face, he’s had enough of you. “On the bright side, you did a good job during the fight. You looked really cool. I bet you have a line up of mistresses who want to be wedded to you.”   Unfortunately, your persuasion doesn’t seem to have an effect on him anymore. Your buttered words don’t change his stoic state.    After a moment, Yoongi breaks his silent treatment. “Stop trying to get us killed all the time, brat.”   You sulk at him, holding onto his arm. But the cute act doesn’t seem to appeal to him either — or at least he doesn’t show that it does. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose, duckling.”   Still, Yoongi doesn’t shove you off from holding his arm, so you take it as a win.   “What do you want to do here?”   “I have some stuff to sell.”    The magical satchel slung across your body weighs fifteen pounds, but it can hold up to five hundred pounds and is two feet in diameter and four feet deep. There’s been plenty of things you’ve been collecting that you need to get rid of and more ‘potions’ that you would like to sell.   Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You can sell your things anywhere.”   He isn’t wrong. A detour to Bogsburrough is completely unnecessary if the only reason is to sell.   There’s a moment of contemplation and then you concede, deciding to tell him about another secret, or rather… “There’s a rumour.”   The two of you slow down and your eyes meet. “They say the tapestries in the palace are forgeries. Apparently, the previous king pawned them off and the current one couldn’t find them, so they had to be replaced with some replicas. The royal family would be really grateful if they were retrieved and would probably give a very handsome reward. You know what that means, right, Yoongi? I could make my dream come true.”   The struggle of scraping up with a few gold pieces at a time would end.   You could finally have your house built in the middle of nowhere, hidden from civilization, isolated from all people and creatures.    “So you’ve been searching for these tapestries to return them to the royal family?” he asks.   “Yep, and I think it might be in Bogsburrough.”   Without warning, the two of you are interrupted by a human talismonger dressed in white robes. “What a beautiful couple! I see much compatibility and fortune! I bet you’re looking to have children soon, aren’t you—”   You’re flustered, your entire brain delayed as your mouth slowly opens.    But Yoongi is much calmer. “No—”   The talismonger doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “We have charms to increase fertility and charms for impotence. Tell you what? I’ll give it to you for five silver pieces!” He spreads his entire hand in front of your face and Yoongi’s, overwhelming you with the sheer volume of his voice.   “That’s quite alright—”   “Okay, okay!” Creatures passing turn their heads at the ruckus. “An impotence charm for four silver pieces!”   At this point, you’re getting irritated. “We don’t need it!” you shout. “My husband does not have issues with impotence!”   The two of you push past the obnoxious man, but then he loudly haggles for the entire market to hear— “FINE! Okay, sir! I’ll sell you the charm to fix your impotence for half price!”   Both you and Yoongi freeze in your steps. Your necks crane around. Your intimidating glares bore into his face, Yoongi’s hands gripping his sword, and your swirling orb of fire is clutched in your hand. He squeals in fear.    No one gets to cheat a cheat.   “Terrible technique,” you mutter when you’ve made your way down the market. “He’s supposed to convince and persuade them, not try to embarrass the customers. Horrible business man.”   The corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls and he chuckles. “Yeah? Well, you’re not any better.”   “Hey, I’m so much better! I do business properly.”   “You lie about the product.”   “It’s called a business technique.”   You look around the stalls and what’s for purchase. But once you’ve made it to the end of the market, there are no tapestries in sight. Even when you ask around, no one has any clue what you’re talking about and you know you’ve reached another dead end.   “What’s your plan now?” Yoongi asks.   “I don’t want the entire trip here to be a waste, so I’ll set up and sell some stuff.” You sigh. “Well, this place was a shot in the dark anyways. It was worth a try. At least I can cross it off my list. Anyway, give me an hour and I’ll be done. You can walk around or do whatever it is that you do.”   Yoongi nods. In the meanwhile, you pull out a rug from your bag and dump out golden chalices and wondrous items you’ve probably stolen, and begin advertising them at outrageous prices to creatures passing by. He lets you be as you’re happily scamming and walks off with a tiny smile.    “Excuse me,” he approaches a human Ranger standing by and the stranger lifts his head with suspicious eyes narrowed in on him. Yoongi had a few ideas on how to make his time worthwhile here too.   “Yes?”   “Do you know anything about the North Dragon?”   “The North Dragon?” The Ranger shakes his head. “Sorry. Don’t. But you can probably ask Raithe. He knows a thing or two about creatures around.”   The Ranger indicates a man in a black cloak sitting on a stool and staring at bystanders. Yoongi thanks him and approaches the so-called Raithe. “Excuse me.” The man looks up, revealing beady eyes and a long, red beard. “Do you know anything about the North Dragon?”   The corner of the man’s mouth curls. “Who may you be?”   “I’m a traveler on a quest,” Yoongi says vaguely, knowing better than to pass information about himself around or go into too much detail needlessly. Anyone could use anything against him.   Raithe hums. “I know that there’s a dragon in Stoughsby Peaks. That it’s fiercely loyal. But I’m afraid any more information will have to come at a price.”   He pulls out a gold coin from his pocket. “Will this be enough of a price?”   “That’s more like it, young man. Do you have a map?” The greedy man smiles, snatching the payment before Yoongi pulls out his crinkled map you always make fun of. Once spread, Raithe points to a patch of grass on it in the middle of the forest that’s between this place and Rutherglen. “Here. A wise wizard can tell you all that you seek to know about the North Dragon, but he is not easy to find and he doesn’t allow just any guests inside his home.”   “How do I find him then?”   “You keep walking.”   That’s all the man is willing to say and Yoongi keeps it in mind as he marks the map.   At the same time, you’re having much success with your business.   “Thanks for coming!” After getting rid of your chalices and your eyes of eagle, your sack of gold has become heavier and heavier in your pocket. You’ve managed to sell two of your stoppered bottles too, passing them on as potions of heroism when really it’s just been dyed blue and the bubbles are from the expired milk you had in them. “Get your potions of heroism! Get your potions!”   You can’t wait to see the look on Yoongi’s face when you brag about how much you’ve made.   “It’s a blessed spell! Gain more health before you go charging into battle! Great for adventurers and travelers who love exploring the region!”    Your eyes light when a creature comes up to your rug. He’s five feet eight with reddish skin and a purple head of hair. A sulfurous odor radiates from him, but you recognize the horns, prehensile tails, and pointed teeth for him being a Tiefling and his daggers for being a rogue.    “Hello sir, would you like one? It’s a rare potion you won’t find anywhere else! Take the chance while you still can!”   “How much?”   “Five gold pieces.”   You hold in your cackle when he passes the gold to you without even bargaining. But blood drains from your face when he flicks off the cork and prepares to chug it. “Wait! Are you going to take it right now?”   “If it’s good, I’ll buy the rest,” the Tiefling rogue states, solid orbs of silver for eyes looking back at you. And with that, he chugs it.   You hitch your breath. Your teeth grit.   After a moment, the Tiefling rogue spits the potion out. His expression twists into horror, another strange odor leaving his mouth that smells like rotten eggs left in the Summer sun.   “What is that?!”   “Uh….it’s…..it’s…...a potion….of heroism?”   He points at you, shouting, “Fraud!”   “I prefer Charlatan!” you scream and jump back before his dagger can hit you.   Across the market, Yoongi hears the commotion. There are creatures moving away and murmuring, not wanting to get involved, and his blood runs cold when he realizes you’re on the other side where the clamour is.    Immediately, he rushes through the crowd, but then his shoulder collides with another.   “Min Yoongi?”   A cold voice stops him.   “Yorril.” The slender Elf is the same height as Yoongi is, long blonde hair that’s half-tied up and reaches to his ribs. His piercing green eyes are set within their sockets, having seen his enemies coiling their bodies to his shoes. He has a dignified aura that’s unfriendly as always.   But Yoongi supposes that it’s only natural. The Belxiron faction has always had an air of superiority, especially over the Min faction and it has permanently been a source of strife.   “What a pleasant surprise,” Yorril utters in Elvish. “I thought you ran away like a coward.”   “Cowards are the ones who stand behind their family’s back to protect themselves,” Yoongi answers in a hiss. “If being a coward is making something out of yourself rather than taking the status given to you at birth, then you are worthless.”   The elf’s jaw clenches as he pulls his trident to his side. “Always so righteous, Min. Always have to have the last word. But it is time I give your mother a real reason to mourn—”   On the other side of the market, the Tiefling strikes you with his dagger against your left forearm. It’s enough to skim against your skin and leave a mark, but not enough to bleed.   You hold your orb within your hand and hurl three rays of fire towards him. The first one barely hits him when he dodges, but the second and third make him cry out in agony as he’s burnt.   “You bitch!”   “That’s rude!” You’re about to persuade him to give it up, but it’s useless when he runs towards you again with newfound wrath.   In the meanwhile, the Elf uses his trident and attacks, piercing Yoongi in his abdomen. The weapon digs into his leather clothing, never into his skin, but then light twirls through the trident and he feels as if lightning has shocked through his system.    Yorril smirks. Yoongi pulls out his rapier but misses when he swings. “Going down so easy, Min? I expected better from someone who ran off to become a knight for the Order of the Black Sun.”   Yoongi grits his teeth and swings again. This time, Yorril is pushed back, sliced in his shoulder and Yoongi surges forward once more. Then, he’s dashing to the other side of the market.   There’s a shout of his name behind him, but it doesn’t matter.   He breathes a sigh of relief when you come into view. Visibly intact and unharmed. “What happened?” Yoongi hyperventilates from running, eyes wide and searching your face.   You muster a smile, afraid of his scolding. “Just...you know….the usual workplace risks.”   The Tiefling shouts and runs forth with his dagger. He manages to nick your dress and collarbone with his blade this time, making you hiss out as blood soaks through. Yoongi retaliates in an instant, swinging at him with his rapier and he stumbles back.   “Min!” There’s a shout of his name and the angered Elf comes out of the crowd silently observing and gasping. “I’m not done with you!”   Your back presses against Yoongi’s as you both hold onto your weapons. “You know this guy?!”   “He’s an enemy of my family,” he murmurs as he faces the Tiefling rogue and you face the Elf.   “What kind of family do you have?!” You throw an evocation spell forward and a line of roaring flames thirty feet long and five feet wide emanates from you towards the stranger. The crowd disperses quickly, shuffling back before they’re hit by the fire.   Unfortunately, the Elf is dexterous and manages to move back, only getting hit by half of the fire.   “It’s complicated,” Yoongi says.   “Get out of the way,” Yorril grunts in Elvish and attacks you with his trident, charging forth to spear you. He hits against the arm you bring out to shield your face away and as it digs into your flesh before you force it away.   Yoongi hears your cry and turns around to strike him.   At the same time, the Tiefling rogue fails to drive his dagger into Yoongi’s stomach.   Your grasps tighten on your orb and you lob three more scorching rays of fire in your hands towards your enemies. One of them hits the Tiefling and he yells in pain before falling over, unconscious. Two of them are fired towards the Elf, one that misses and the other that gets him straight in his face.   He’s burnt, not too badly that he’s become disfigured but enough that it hurts.   “Damn you, whore! Stay where you belong!” Yorril swings at you, piercing you in your stomach and leaving a bleeding gash in its place that you press with your other hand to keep blood from pouring.   “It’s going to have to take more than that,” you wheeze in Elvish to him and it serves to aggravate him further.   Yoongi is horrified, paler than he was before and he shouts deep from his lungs. He swings at Yorril, slicing him in his back and your arm lifts. A blinding streak flares from your pointing finger and blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flame. The Elf’s eyes are rounded in terror and he howls from deep in his stomach as he’s burnt. The fire spreads through the room, igniting the wooden stalls and rugs.   Brought to his knees, Yoongi slices Yorril once more with his rapier.   The Elf uses the remainder of his strength to hit Yoongi once more and manages to scrape at his knees before Yoongi strikes twice and the latter male falls over, also unconscious.   It goes silent except for the sound of the two of you catching your breaths.   Then you and Yoongi turn to each other.   Compared to Yoongi who’s still firmly on his feet, you’re worse for wear. You’re bleeding in numerous places, nicked at your jaw and neck. But the corners of your mouth curls and you slowly reach into your pocket. You hold out a heavy sack of gold, one that isn’t your own. “L-Look what I got.” Your eyes flicker to the unconscious Tiefling who’ll eventually wake up wounded and broke.   Yoongi scoffs with a tiny smile. “This is why so many people want to kill you.”   “You have your fair share of enemies too, evidently,” you breathe out. “And it’s not so easy for me to die, y’know.”   He comes over to shoulder you, all traces of mischief gone. “Are you okay?”   “Of course I’m okay.” You muster a tender yet tired smile, leaning your weight on him. “It’s no big deal. Don’t you know….who I….am?”   But then your eyes begin to droop and Yoongi opens his arms, catching your slumping body. You’re snoring, exhausted from the fight and he puts you on his back, a tiny smile etched on his features.   There’s chaos around you both, people returning to their stalls to see that it’s been burnt down to a crisp and wailing at the loss, other sly creatures trying to steal what they can in the chaotic situation and others that return to their stations like nothing happened at all.   A fight in Bogsburrough might not be uncommon, but Yoongi doesn’t dwell.   He carries you and the two of you fade away as quick as you came, continuing on your journey.   //   After being bandaged, taking a long rest and downing a bunch of healing potions, you’re back in tip-top shape again. Your initial plan was to just have Yoongi protect you until you made it to Bogsburrough — a plan you never told him about — but with no other idea of what to do or where to go next, you find yourself continuing with him on his quest.    Why not, right?   If he defeats that dragon, you can reap the benefits and get that amazing reward. It’s certainly better than wandering on your own and having nothing to do. There’s no other reason than that.    No other reason………………………...   “So we’re supposed to just...keep walking?” you ask skeptically after wandering aimlessly for what seems to be an hour around this meadow.   “That’s what he said.”   “What if this is a trap.”   “Then we’ll grab our weapons. But I don’t think it is.”   It’s only fair that after Yoongi took your detour, you take his. But you’re unsure what this nonsense about a wizard is. There’s nothing here, but grass and flowers—   Your forehead smacks into a wall.   You stumble back, rubbing at the area while cursing. But there’s nothing there. Your brows furrow along with Yoongi’s and you put your hand out, feeling the invisible barrier placed there.   “It’s a wall of force!” You grin, excited that your efforts weren’t wasted after all.   “How do we get rid of it?”   “We blast it!” Before he can protest and get some time to think things through, you grab your orb that allows you to channel your power and you hurl a fireball at it. The flames howl, blossoming an explosion and slamming into the barrier.   The barrier ripples, revealing its spherical shape — but it doesn’t shatter or open a hole.   You huff out in frustration.   Yoongi steps forward. “Wait.”   But you throw another fireball at it, fiercer and with more vigor. This time, it works and the barrier splits with a tiny opening, enough for you and Yoongi to push yourselves through.   You grin at his bewildered expression. Of course he should be impressed with your abilities. You might not be as capable or strong as he is, but your magic often comes in handy like now. “It’s sorcerer magic.”   “Yeah, well, I think we’ve already long established you aren’t a normal peasant girl.”   “Nope. I’m not.”   There’s a house in the middle of the meadow, placed on a tiny hill — one that was not visible outside of the invisible wall of force. Built with white stones and an oak roof with a chimney on the side, it stands tall in a fairly symmetrical pattern. The windows are large and it looks like the manor has several floors. More importantly, you swear you see the curtains shift on the left.   The two of you step up on the wooden porch, facing the mahogany double doors.   “Do we just….knock?”   “I guess.” Yoongi’s fist raps against the surface while you brace yourself for an attack.    No one who wants to hide warmly welcomes unexpected guests.    Inside, in a dusty library, the male who’s levitating abruptly shuts his book at the sound. The cover is bright green, labeled ‘Halfling Histories’ and it slides back onto the empty slot of a nearby bookshelf as his small feet touch the ground once more. The sound of scattering toes on floorboards echo as he sprints to the front door.   The door swings open.   You hitch your breath, but an onslaught of offensive spells never happens.   Instead, you see nothing. Not until you and Yoongi collectively drop your heads to discover a three feet tall Halfling in a silk, blue robe with rounded glasses perched on his nose. He is reminiscent of a child with his full, rosy cheeks, brightened eyes and stubby stature.    The Halfling gives a dimpled smile and widens the door.   “Welcome! Oh my goodness, I haven’t had guests in so long! Come in, come in!”   The pair of you exchange expressions before stepping inside. The interior instantly takes your breath — cozy mahogany and high ceilings, mementos on a shelf near the winding staircase with a magical pull to them. The owner of this house has made it their own. You can tell each object carries its own meaning and memory, not merely for decoration or the purpose of luxury.   You gander around wordlessly.    Whoever this wizard is, he’s literally living your dream.    Out in the middle of nowhere. A place of his own. Hidden from the rest of humanity. It’s your aspiration in the flesh.   “My name is Namjoon,” the Halfling says as his dimples crease deeper, “and I am a servant to the lord of the house. May I ask who has entered the home?”   “I am Min Yoongi, in search of a Great wizard said to have lived here.”   “Ah, it is very nice to meet you. I’m afraid the lord is asleep upstairs. He doesn’t like to be awoken, so I fear it may be several hours until he can entertain you,” he informs and you look at Yoongi with uncertainty. The Halfling follows your movement and smiles. “And may I ask who you are, milady?”   “I am merely a servant girl accompanying this man as a way to repay a favour.” You lower your head, never once stating your own name.   “I see.” Namjoon smiles. “Can I ask for what reason you’re searching for my lord?”   “There’s just something we want to ask,” you say quickly, stepping forward before Yoongi can spill the whole truth. “It’s about a magical item. One we’re willing to sell to him.”   Namjoon hums. “Alright. I’ll let my lord know as soon as he wakes up. Would any of you care for tea? I have the best honey and sugar available!”   But suddenly, Yoongi feels a heavy weight on his mind. It’s a presence pressing on his brain, probing deep and whispering around the caverns of his skull for permission to be let inside. He grips his temples with a groan and you turn to him.   “Is everything okay?”   Yoongi looks at you and the way your brows scrunch together. But doesn’t answer. He tries to fight it off.    And he fails.   Yoongi feels his thoughts being pulled, untangled, exploited and read.   “Y/N—”   The corner of the Namjoon’s mouth curls in genuine amusement. He looks between you and Yoongi curiously as if he knows something you don’t. Then your neck whips to the side, catching him staring at you with that smile like he knows who you are.   Before you can ask him what he just did, Namjoon opens his palm. In one split second, the wooden staff you didn’t notice leaning against the grandfather clock flies into his hands. The surrounding flames are snuffed out, drawing the three of you into darkness except for the dim evening light piercing through the glass windows. Your shadows lay across the walls.   Namjoon looks at Yoongi and an overwhelming gust of wind pulls him back.   Yoongi shouts his name, but it’s choked inside his throat. Namjoon’s casted hold person, causing him to be frozen, paralyzed against the wall.   “Yoongi!” Your eyes are wide, connected with his. You rush over, but the path is interrupted by a growing low noise and three glowing darts that strike you at once. They pummel into your body before dispersing as quick as they appeared. A kind of agony immediately shoots up your spine and causes a cry to tear from your throat.   You turn yourself to Namjoon — the wizard you’ve been searching for.   “What do you want from us?!”   “The truth,” the halfling utters while you grip your glass orb in your hand that swirls colours of red and orange. From nothing but the magic that runs through your blood, you conjure three rays of fire and hurl them at him. One misses, but the other two burns him enough to hear his sharp inhale.   Namjoon raises his arms, his curled staff lifted with the motion and you feel a necromantic energy washes over you. The spell he casts drains moisture from you, making your skin dry, your lips chapped, your lungs shrivel. You double over, wheezing as your throat becomes parched. But it’s far from over.   You shout from deep within your stomach, hearing the strained call of your name behind you from your companion and a bright flash streaks from your finger, blossoming in a rumble of fire.   But Namjoon counterspells it without even blinking. He snuffs out the flames before it can reach him.   His feet shift and a blast of cold air erupts from his hands. It coils towards you, itching towards your body before enveloping you in frost. It nips against your skin, cracking your lips further.   This is it. This is how you die. You’ve always envisioned succumbing to fire, brought down by the power inside of yourself — the greatest devastation and irony of all. You never imagined yourself to fall in the home of an unknown wizard for unknown reasons….   But as you turn your head to gaze at Yoongi once more, your eyes meeting his tender ones full of unadulterated fear and anguish, there’s a surge from within. It screams, causing you to stand straighter, for your feet to root into the floorboards. It’s instincts —   And it tells you that you can’t leave him behind.   Instantaneously, a fire from within you blazes. A blinding light slices through the room as you’re magically wreathed in swirling flames. It’s overwhelming, pouring from the tips of your fingers and toes, seeping out of your pores without control. A grating orange and flaring crimson. It’s ugly, the way your eyes glow like hot coals, how you feel like your skin is melting off your bones.   The fire from within your blood is restless. Vengeful.   You can’t see the way Yoongi forces himself to look at you past the bright flare — you don’t know he’s in awe, that he finds it absolutely magnificent.    Before you can barrel forward, the Hafling drops his staff.   His hands lift, surrendering, as a dimpled grin spreads into his cheeks.   “I knew it! I knew it! You’re a phoenix sorcerer!”   Somewhere in Yoongi’s mind, those words are familiar. He’s read them somewhere before. But the details are murky. He isn’t sure. He simply knows there’s one infamous phoenix sorcerer family in existence.   The fire disperses as Yoongi’s let go from his binds, no longer pinned to the wall.   “You….” You’re panting, out of your mind. “You did all that to prove a theory?!”    “Well, I had a feeling you wouldn’t be honest with me if I asked.”   “You fucking crazy bastard!”   Namjoon laughs and then suddenly lowers himself to one knee, height no higher than your own knee. He blinks up at you with his brightened irises. “Will you marry me, Miss? Our powers combined would make for the best offsprings.”   Your eye twitches. “You’re a piece of shit.”   //   The library is old and dusty, but the winding bookcases that reach the ceiling tells him there’s an endless amount of knowledge stowed away between these pages of parchment. It is larger than any library he has known at home in his faction or in the castles he’s been stationed at. These books radiate types of magic, each enchanted with different spells he will never know the names of.   Seated at the round table, his trance is shattered without warning when there’s the ear-piercing noise of a stool scraping against the floorboard. If Yoongi didn’t know any better, he would think it was his imagination but then the short Hafling hops up on the stool to be seen and spreads the map across the wooden surface.   “You wanted to know about the Dragon of the North, yes?”   Yoongi nods in silence and he studies the map. Never has he seen something so extensive and detailed, all towns and rivers labeled with different kinds of terrain shown on the parchment. There are numerous roads winding on the paper, a scale for size he has no doubt is accurate.   “Can I copy this map?”   “You can just take it.” Namjoon grins. “I have plenty, don’t worry. I have some ancient dragon books too if you’d like.”   Yoongi nods again and the Hafling bounces off his stool and tottles over to one of his bookcases. He climbs the wooden ladder but when that can’t even grab the spine of the large book he’s reaching for, he whirls his finger and it slides out for him, swooping onto the table.    There’s a pile of dust that flies when Yoongi opens it, but he brushes it away and tries to read about the myths spoken about the North Dragon and Stoughsby Peaks.   “It seems like this dragon isn’t as dangerous as it seems,” Namjoon comments as he pushes up his circular spectacles. “And it’s been hidden for quite a while.”   “It kidnapped a girl.” Yoongi places the book down, telling him in case he can offer anything insightful. “We’re on a quest to bring her back at any costs.”   But Namjoon merely hums and his eyes twinkle. “Maybe it did it for a reason.”   In spite of this place behind a holder of knowledge, there isn’t much on the North Dragon aside from folktales and rumours of travelers who witnessed the creature and survived the encounter. But Yoongi makes sure to read every word, knowing that anything could be helpful.    Though after a while, the sentences dull and Yoongi finds himself curious about something else.   “Do you possibly have any books on phoenixes?”   The Halfling wizard smiles. “I’ll happily lend you some. Perhaps one specifically on magic, human and phoenixes?”   //   You’re taking a long rest in one of the countless bedrooms when Yoongi enters.   But despite how soft the mattress is and how warm the sheets are, different from the many nights spent on the forest floor or in dodgy inns, you aren’t comfortable in the least bit.   “We need to get the fuck out of here, Yoongi,” you say immediately when the door opens and it’s duckling hair that you see. “I need to get out of here. He’s psychotic.”   He smiles gently and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, allowing it to dip underneath his weight. “We’ll leave when you can stand up again.”   “You can just carry me.”   “And risk breaking my back? I almost did last time and you still owe me.”   You pout, knowing full well he’s exaggerating. “I’m not that heavy.”   It goes quiet for a moment as if he has something to say and doesn’t know how to broach the topic which is unlike him. “Hey, Y/N.”   “What? And ew, don’t call me like that.” Your nose scrunches, making fun of him to lighten the mood he’s created.   Yoongi grins. “Like what?”   “Like I’m dying. Y/N,” you lovingly whisper, mocking him and causing him to scoff lightly. “Makes me feel like I’m your bedridden wife.”   “Well, at the rate we’re going at,” he mutters and you’re not sure what he means — if you’ll end up bedridden or his wife or both. But you can’t dwell on it when he continues, “I never finished telling you about my family.”   “Oh yeah.” You lean back against the headboard. “And that guy who wanted to kill us at the market?”   Yoongi nods. “I’m the youngest son of the Min house, a faction in Srinas.” It’s the capital of Pegan, the largest country bordering this one. ���The region is broken up into factions and a house owns each of them.”   “And I’m guessing that Elf was from another faction?”   He nods again. “I didn’t expect to see him there.”   “Why did he want to fight you?”   “Our houses are enemies,” he explains with a sigh. “No matter where I go, as long as I’m a Min, there will be preexisting enemies. The factions are different from how you’d imagine them.”   It’s interesting, intriguing to hear. You aren’t someone who cares about the troubles of another, but you’ve traveled with Yoongi for so long that a part of you has always longed to know more about him, about his background, where he came from, what led him here. “What do you mean?”   “There was constant backstabbing and betrayal. Your friend one day would be your enemy the next. Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” Yoongi brushes it off with a stoic expression. “I got tired one day and decided to leave.”   You know he left to join the Order of the Black Sun where he trained to become a knight. “And you haven’t looked back since,” you finish.    The silence confirms your guess.   It feels like you’re filling in the gaps of your knowledge about Yoongi, that you’re finally coming to understand the man in front of you. But you wonder why he’s telling you when he’s been so private. Why he’s voluntary letting you in his secrets without you needing to pry or whine. Perhaps he wants to know about you, but is taking the first step for you to know him.    So you indulge him, taking the initiative of what you assume he’s seeking without him needing to ask. “Mine’s not any different. Well, less….backstabbing, but it’s true. I’m a phoenix sorcerer and so is the rest of my family.”   You trust him. You trust Min Yoongi.   “My great, great grandfather saved a phoenix and a shard of its power runs through my bloodline. My power draws from an immortal flame.” It’s a mixed blessing. Like the creature indebted to your ancestor, you can conjure its fiery energy and be able to cheat death itself.    But it comes at a cost.   The fire within you bristles. Always demanding to be unleashed. You find yourself thoughtlessly feeding fires, hearing them call out to you, being unable to bear them sputtering out.   You uncurl your fingers and a flame ignites in your palm. Yoongi watches it dance then his eyes flicker to your face, soaking it how the fire glows against your cheeks, warming your features.    “People like me make others nervous. Our magic is volatile. It can be dangerous and we have a reputation for reckless behaviour. The stereotype isn’t untrue though. Most phoenix sorcerers think the essence of the phoenix can save them, but we aren’t necessarily protected from fire. We’re as vulnerable as the next creature, the next human. All we can really do is use our powers to pull ourselves from the brink of death. But most often than not, the reliance on our destructive magic is what put us there in the first place.”   You shut your eyes. The fire smothers out.   “My family has tried their hardest to remove themselves from such labels and molds. Each generation is put through strict teaching and training since the moment each person is born. But my family still think of themselves as superior. They were suffocating.”   Yoongi connects the dots. “So you left.”   “It wasn’t a life that I wanted to lead, so three years ago, I learned how to forge fake documentation and I ran away.” For the longest time, your greatest fear was being deported. It was being brought back to that house that was more concerned about status and upholding the bloodline than your own wishes. Where your freedom was suppressed.   You release your breath. The corner of your mouth pulls.   “I’m sure if you turned me into officials, you’d get yourself a handsome reward, Yoongi.”   Yet, Yoongi doesn’t give into your banter or playfulness. He remains solemn and sincere. “I have no plans in doing so.”   The two of you gaze at one another.   He doesn’t seem affected whatsoever by this new information, about the secrets you’ve held close to yourself. The both of you come from rich and dark histories, but you’ve never encountered someone who wasn’t at least a bit surprised.   But the way he looks at you is familiar. As if you don’t scare him.   “Get some rest, Y/N,” he says as he finally stands, turning towards the door.   “Yoongi,” you call his name tenderly before he can leave. The man pauses and your teary eyes trace his backside. “Thank you.”   //   The second you feel well enough, you get the fuck away from Namjoon. You sprint faster than you ever did before. He waves goodbye enthusiastically, saying that the offer of marriage still stands indefinitely — clearly, the Halfling wizard finds you sorcery magic quite intriguing and even bombards you with questions until the last moment — but you don’t entertain him.    You run for the hills without looking back. And finally, the two of you make it to Rutherglen.   It’s built on the bottom of a snowy thicket with a woodland forest nearby, the terrain rocky presumably from the mountains seen vaguely through the clouds. The village itself is plain but humble. With its redwood rooftops and maple wood walls, Rutherglen carries an inviting atmosphere. Though right now, there seems to be a certain commotion, lanterns strung through shops, vibrant posters set against brick walls, children wearing masks running through the streets and other adults preparing stalls that line the streets.   “Is there something special going on today?”   “Why, tonight is the Festival of Champions!” A petite woman says as she passes by, holding a ribboned basket of bread and biscuits, and catching wind of your question to Yoongi. “You must be travelers! How exciting and great timing, really.”   “What’s the Festival of Champions?” Yoongi asks, having never heard of such a thing.   “A long time ago, a powerful demon was driven up from this town and now we celebrate that day that we freed! The festival only happens once a year and it’s spectacular, much needed as well considering how on edge everyone’s been from those rumours of a dragon up north.”   “What?”   “Anyhow, no time like the present to enjoy yourselves!” She grins. “Enjoy yourselves, travelers!”   With the short-sightedness of these villagers, it’s no wonder they run into predicaments like demons and dragons attacking them.   “I don’t think I can do it.” There are two young girls chatting on the street and as you pass, your ears perk, picking up their exchange. “What if he rejects me, Lirla?”   “He wouldn’t. You have to confess!” At that, you turn your head, watching as the girl in the plum dress grabs the hands of her friend with a brightened, innocent smile. “You’ve been waiting for this day for months and you know what they say, if you do it tonight during the fireworks, you’ll have luck on your side.”   “I don’t know…..”   Such fickle emotions such as love, nervousness in wanting to declare one’s feelings, uncertainty of how the other person will respond — you never got to experience such nonsense.    But you can’t help but feel envious of them. You were never allowed to have such freedoms such as love.   Yoongi shifts, having overheard the conversation as well and noticing how silent you suddenly are. “Y/N?”   “Hmm?” You turn to look at him, but in doing so, your focus gets captured elsewhere. “Yoongi!”   It’s a red and white striped circus tent pitched in the town’s center. A six feet tall Fighter in a ripped tank top struts in a chalk ring while flexing his biceps and a Halfling wearing a top hat stands on a soap box. For being a fraction of a human’s normal size, his voice is deafening—   “Test your fortitude! Test your steel strength! Kourteous the Mighty challenges you to the Terror of the Rings! Best out of three clinches wins!”   “Yoongi, Yoongi! Go!” You push him forward with a ginormous grin.   His tender features twist is mortification. “What? You want me to fight him?!”   “All you have to do is push him out of that ring and we get prizes. C’mon! Don’t be scared!”   With one last shove, Yoongi stumbles forward and the Halfling grins. “Ah! Is there a new challenger?!” Yoongi turns around, glaring daggers into your soul and you give a sheepish smile.   The blonde knight sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”   A crowd soon gathers to watch and Yoongi joins the circle, knees bent and hands open. Folks cheer on the Fighter and you suppose it’s fair considering Yoongi’s shorter stature and smaller body. No one expects him to win.   But you know him — you know he’s carried you on his back, that he’s fought countless creatures, that he’s protected you in several instances.   Yoongi is strong. Even when he doesn’t look like it.   “Round one!” The Halfling slams a wooden rod into a bell, making it ring loudly. “Fight!”   At once, the Fighter makes a big show. He flexes his muscles, brushes his feet against the dirt and shouts from within his belly.    It makes the crowd cheer.   The Fighter charges Yoongi, but he keeps a low stance and dodges easily. The taller male swoops past, nearly running out the chalk circle with his sheer speed, but stops right on his toes. It causes the whole pack of creatures around to gasp in delight, put in anticipation.   The Fighter turns around with a growl and runs to grab Yoongi. But this time as he swiftly ducks, Yoongi steals the opportunity and shoves the larger male out, centering his strength on the man’s abdomen.    The Halfling throws his arms out dramatically. “One to zero!”   They meet each other in the circle again and he switches to an offensive strategy. The Fighter is caught off guard with Yoongi’s strength with their hands meet each other and their arms strain, trying to push the other out.    Yoongi is the epitome of stability.   He pushes him and the Fighter stumbles out while trying to keep balance.   “Two to zero!”   It’s unexpected and the crowd is going absolutely crazy. They’re hooting and hollering like it’s the middle of a tavern on a drunken night of celebration, and you feel your chest blossom with pride. “I know him!” you shout above the uproar to the Elf next to you. “He’s my partner!”   During the last round, Yoongi obliterates it.    He wins so hard that the Fighter is stunned and the Halfling is speechless. “C-Congratulations!”   Immediately, you run to Yoongi. He catches you in his arms while your own loop around his neck. You giggle into his shoulders and he grins, squeezing you.   It’s a moment that you will come to cherish.   You end up asking if he can do another round once the Halfling gives you the prize money of seven silver pieces. But he nearly cries and begs you both to leave instead.   “I knew you could do it!” You’re tossing the sack of silver up and down in your hand, feeling its weight and listening to the clank as you do so. It’s technically Yoongi’s but he said you could have it and you didn’t hesitate to accept the gift.   “You pushed me in before you even understood what the game was.”   “But I believed in you anyway,” you laugh.   The both of you continue on your way while you’re humming with a light skip in your step. When you find Yoongi looking at you, you flash a bright grin at him and he scoffs. You’re starting to like this place. But you don’t make it far before something else captures your attention.   This time though, it’s not a circus game or creatures trying to sell you something.   You’re enraptured by a fifteen-foot statue of a woman unmarred by time. There are steady streams of seemingly clear water traveling down the woman’s eyes, but leaving no erosion there. But next to her are the shattered remains of another smaller stone statue. The feet of this smaller statue remains affixed to the ground while the rest are scattered around. It looks close enough that the body may have once held the woman’s outstretched hand.    You’re close enough that you can read the silver plate of the statue. It says ‘Missing Daughter’.   The statue reminds you of your mother — and you wonder passingly if any members of your family have tried employing others to find you, much like Yoongi has been sent to find Mina Stav. Or maybe they haven’t. Maybe they think your family thinks you’re dead...   “Y/N?”   “Hmm?” You turn away from the statue outside the sanctuary. “Where’s this person again?”   Half-across Rutherglen, you and Yoongi knock on a cottage door while unsure of yourselves. It's a single floor modest home, not at all extravagant like you expected it to be. Sorli Stav, the woman who commissioned you and Yoongi on this quest, reeked of wasteful luxury after all. You expect her sister to be the same or at least have some level of similarity.   “Are you sure this is her?”   “I’m sure,” he says in spite of his own skepticism.   The door opens a moment later and on the other side is a thin lady with long, stringy hair and a flowy skirt. “Hi, how can I help you? Are you the workers from Johnson? I told him I’d be right down for the festival. What an impatient man, he is. Really—”   “No, ma’am,” Yoongi politely interrupts. “Actually, we were told you could help us. Are you Ashal Stav?”   “I am.” Her sparse brows furrow. Then as if she suddenly recalls, her entire face lights up. “Are you those heroes looking to rescue my niece?! Come in, come in.”   You’re guided into the cluttered home with an open living space, a kitchen and dining room. It looks like there’s only three separate rooms after that. “I’m so sorry for the mess.”   “It’s quite alright,” you muster a smile as your eyes stray to the dirty stains on the wall by the bookshelf.   “Oh, I should’ve really cleaned better but the festival was here and I didn’t have much time.” The older woman is rushing about, collecting her clothes off the floor to throw into another corner and clearing the table of rotting food by pushing it aside. “My younger sister sent me a letter telling me you were coming. Although she informed me it would be a young fighter and a much...bigger barbarian.” She eyes you curiously like she didn’t expect a peasant girl.   You smile as your eyes glitter. “I replaced him due to some unforeseen circumstances.”   “Well, thank you for your service then.” She kicks some books on the ground underneath a table between the armchairs. “I really hope you can save my niece. Mina’s a wonderful girl really. A bit outspoken and stubborn, but very pleasant.”   “Actually, we were told you could help us,” Yoongi says. “You have information about this dragon?”   “Information, dear? No, no. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the North dragon whatsoever. I only know you will be in grave, grave danger.”   The pair of you exchange expressions.   “You can feel free to stay here for as long as you’d like,” she huffs while catching her breath from the impromptu cleaning session. “I make one mean apple pie. You two look like you’re cold too! Rutherglen is practically winter all year round, so feel free to take any coats in the closet you’d like. And oh! Enjoy tonight’s festival as well!”   You and Yoongi don’t know what to say, simply holding in your groan. And when you come into the room she’s offered you, you find out that you’ll have to share a bed meant for one.   //   “That could’ve gone a lot better.”    You realize you should’ve bargained for a better reward. That woman prepared nothing for the two of you — there’s virtually nothing to go on, no help, no information. If not for Yoongi seeking out Namjoon, you wouldn’t even know how to get to that mountain. Still, it��s a death sentence.   But Yoongi merely hums, stoic and unaffected.   “So you’re really just going to march up that mountain?”   “I suppose,” he says.   You had no plans in fighting a dragon — you still don’t. But the thought of Yoongi going there alone while you wait here in this town makes you unsettled. Your stomach turns and you feel nauseous. In a split second, you can imagine him never returning. You can envision waiting for agonizing weeks until you venture up there yourself and die in the frozen wasteland before your body is covered in snow never to be found again or at the mercy of a dragon’s fire breath.   Either way, the outcome won’t be good for you or him.   “Yoongi—”   “Fire! Fire!”   There is pandemonium as people shriek, scrambling out of the Market District. Both of your heads lift, catching the rising smoke that curls in the sky and turns it gray. It’s growing fast and you exchange expressions before hurrying forward towards the inferno — Yoongi feeling an intrinsic need to investigate as an honourable knight and you with an inborn fascination for fire.   With what people are shouting as they pass, you learn it’s started from a cobbler shop that put too many cobblers in the oven at one time and forgot it was in there. And by the time you get close enough to see people running in with tiny wooden pails of water, you know it’s hopeless.   It’s already started to spread.   You quickly tug on Yoongi’s sleeve. “Hey…”   He looks at you and then follows your line of sight to the unattended market stalls filled with exotic items for sale. In one moment, he already knows you’re planning to satisfy the itch of your fingers. But before he can stop you and grab the back of your collar, you’ve already crouched down and slunk away from him.   “What do you think you’re doing exactly?”   There’s a sharp, husky voice and you peek over your shoulder, discovering Yoongi hunched down with you behind some wooden crates. The corner of your mouth curls at his frown.   “When life gives you chances, duckling, you have to take them. There’s nothing free in life. But there are opportunities, don’t you know?”   His brows lift. “You’re going to steal?”   “I’m going to pick up some abandoned items at a substantial discount,” you correct, “if you’re not going to help me, then get out of my way.”   Your eyes flicker in all directions. There are creatures gathered around the flames, trying to help. Once the coast is clear, you stealthily slink over to the stall.    Yoongi’s hot on your heel, hiding his smile of amusement. You don’t seem to know but his hands aren’t completely clean either. With life in a faction the way it was, he was forced to steal things numerous times. He’s just never taken from innocent folks out in the world before.   At the stand, your hand lifts and you swipe at a leather pouch. Peeking inside, you find five branded agates, colourful rocks that seem to be worth a good amount. You slip it into your bag.   Yoongi scoffs, watching you. “What do you even plan to do with these things?”   “I’ll sell it, obviously.”    Unfortunately, your whispering is loud enough to catch the attention of a woman nearby who spins around. Once she looks at the stand, the burly owner notices and looks. He steps aside and immediately sees you and Yoongi murmuring to one another while squatting next to his merchandise.    “Hey! What're you think you’re doing?!”   You gasp, eyes wide, and you stand. Yoongi is slower to your feet as he retains a calm disposition. You steal the chance at hand and point to your companion. “I’m stopping him from stealing!”   “What?” the man huffs, louder than the sputter of the fire meters away.   Yoongi’s brows raise, surprised at your betrayal before his expression morphs into a glare.    “I’m not,” he deadpans, calmer than ever before.   “You dare take from me?!”   “You’re mistaken and my friend here is only kidding. She has a terrible sense of humour, I apologize.”   In the meanwhile, your hand slips behind you. Your fingers find a cool, silver surface and you nab it. Your other hand also curls around a thin piece of glass that’s heavy in your grip. With your bag of holding shifted behind you, you easily slip the objects in.   The man is convinced with Yoongi’s composure, one that does not belong to a thief. “You better be kidding, boy! If I find anything missing, your head’s gonna be on the chopping block,” he grunts, turns away to address the urgent fire.   Yoongi releases his held breath and glares at you.    You sheepishly grin at him and the both of you walk away from the commotion.   “Thanks for that. You really saved me there.”   “I can’t believe you betrayed me without even needing to think about it.” His eyes narrow in on you. “But I’m not surprised.”   You pout and lean into him. Your arms wrap around his body. “Aw, Yoongi. I’ll split the gold with you, promise.”   He lightly scoffs and you laugh before taking a chance to look into your bag. Instantaneously, your eyes glitter when you discover it was a bottle of common wine and also a flash of alchemists’ fire, probably worth around fifty gold pieces.    Day by day, you’re getting you closer to your goal, your dream. Soon enough, you'll have a house in the middle of nowhere, much like that Halfling wizard’s. Yet somehow, the taste of victory doesn’t have as much of a glorious flavour as it used to.   Ever since you’ve seen your ambition in the flesh, the fantasy you dwelled on doesn’t seem to be as vibrant in your mind….   Yoongi abruptly halts on his heel and you turn to him, your own trance broken.   He glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you put out that fire?” he asks nonchalantly and your eyes sweep the chaos, soaking in the distress etched on the villager’s features. Yoongi steals a glance at you. “Taking is also about giving back, right?”   There is silence.   Then, a long sigh releases from your lungs. “I never took you to be so righteous, Min Yoongi.”   “I am an honourable knight.” He smirks. “I think you forget that sometimes.”   “If you were so honourable, you’d turn me in,” you quip.   “Let’s just say I’m more loyal than I am honourable.”   Smothering it out goes against your impulse for keeping flames alive. Like you’re suddenly writing with your other hand or clasping your hands and switching which thumb folds on top of the other. Yet you still grasp your magical orb that swirls red and orange and extinguish the inferno. You stand sixty feet away beside Yoongi, hidden in the shadows as you control the flames with the movement of your palm. It smothers within five feet in one direction and the creatures around cheer, assuming the water’s finally snuffed it out.    You repeat it twice more until the fire dies down enough to be stomped on.   “Feel good?” Yoongi asks, accidentally catching your tiny satisfied smile as you both walk away.   “Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s gonna take a lot more convincing for me to do charity work like that again, Yoongi.” You exhale and passingly tell him, “There’s a reason I’d rather be seen as a useless peasant girl. A lot of the time, folks would think fires like that are from people like me.”   “That’s impossible. There’s too many valuables. You’d rather take them than burn it down.”   You laugh, heart swelling.   //   The minute the sun sets over the horizon, the lanterns strung along stalls and the lights inside shops are ignited to illuminate the streets, and the humble town of Rutherglen truly comes alive.    In the town square, there are bards playing flutes and fiddles, lutes and mandolins. The folk music brightens the ambiance even more and children giggle and dance together while the elderly sit by with warm mugs of cider in their laps, clapping along. Other children are running around with paper masks, playing games and couples stroll the streets with one another.   It’s a beautiful, cozy atmosphere as snow sprinkles down from the sky in a gentle flurry. It collects on rooftops and crunches underneath your steps, glitters and shimmers against the warm glow of the lights. You aren’t cold at all, not with the emerald pea coat wrapped around your shoulders. Yoongi’s in a coat too, leather and long to his knees. He would look like a mercenary, if not for his rosy cheeks and tender features that says otherwise.   “Why are you looking at me like that?”   “No reason.” You tear your eyes away, a smile still plastered across your face.   You’re glad that you came here. Opportunity like this doesn’t happen often. Having the company of someone you find pleasant doesn’t happen either.   “Oh, oh! Look, Yoongi!” Immediately, you drag him over by his sleeve.    Yoongi knows better than to resist your whims, especially when you get excited. So he only feigns annoyance yet still follows you diligently. The two of you come to a booth with fishes swimming inside a rectangular pool of water. Kids are huddled together with buckets while the man behind the booth is loudly advertising people to come try their luck at goldfish scooping.   But even without the vendor, it’s a game you recognize well.   “Should we play?!” you ask, turning to Yoongi with glittering eyes.   “Where would we keep a goldfish?”   You deflate, disappointed, but you know he’s right. “Never mind. It’s okay. It’s just I used to play this a lot when I was a kid,” you reminisce, not sure when the last time you went to a festival was — though it might’ve been years ago when you were still a child with your family. “But I always broke the scoop before I could get one and my dad wouldn’t let me play more than once. Did you ever hear that rumour though? Some say the goldfish are actually polymored fair-goers who were caught cheating some of the other games.”   He grins. “Is that why you don’t cheat?”   “Hey, I have integrity too! Business and games are two separate things. I would never cheat during a festival or carnival.”   Yoongi scoffs lightly, but his eyes are still lit with mirth. “You always know how to twist your logic.”   It’s not long before another game interests you and Yoongi’s following you closely behind before you lose each other in the crowd.   It’s an archery competition where contestants are trying to shoot an apple off the head of a Gnome — a Gnome that was presumably forced to take on the role with the way his knees are shaking and he squeals every time someone new comes forth. The prize is an elemental gem, something you’re sure you can use to sell at a higher price.    “You know I’ve only been trained in swordsmanship, right?”   “Giving up already? That’s not the spirit.” You slap Yoongi on the back harshly despite his glare and you point at the frightened Gnome that looks like he’s about to sob. “Take your shot, duckling!”   Yoongi sighs, but raises the bow to eye level and draws it. The tip of his tongue peeks out as one eye flutters shut and he takes aim. Holding in his breath, he releases and the arrow flies.   The Gnome squeaks. Unfortunately, the arrow slams above the apple, off by a few inches.   “Better luck next time,” the girl managing the booth chimes.   You exhale in frustration and immediately toss a silver piece to the girl. You snatch the bow from Yoongi’s hands and snag another arrow from the basket. The Gnome’s eyes bulge as you aim for the in-between of his brows and before he can stutter out “W-W-Wait”, you’ve released.   There’s a sharp whistle. The arrow spirals. The Gnome ducks with a shriek and there’s a loud thunk! The apple’s pierced through it’s core, hitting the bullseye on the target behind.   “Amazing!” The girl blinks as she soaks in what transpired in a mere three seconds. But she gives you the prize as promised. “Here you go.”   You slip the shiny gem in your leather bag with a smile before turning to Yoongi and finding his surprised and impressed expression. “What? Let’s go.”   The next game you stop at is an arm wrestling contest. There are several beefy fighters and barbarians getting in a line to challenge one another at wooden tables and while it’s not something that particularly captures your attention, the prize makes you halt on your heels.   “Fight for love! The winner receives an uncommon potion! A philter of love!”   “Yoongi.” Your hand plops on his shoulder, making him stop. “Want to play?”   He looks at the horde of people and then back at you. “You want to verse me?”   You burst out laughing before it dies down and your expression washes over into impassivity. “I don’t think so. I don’t do arm wrestling contests. Ever.”   That seems to pique Yoongi’s curiosity and his brow cocks. “Why not?”   “I just don’t.” When it seems like that answer isn’t enough to satisfy him, you sigh and explain yourself further, “My older brother challenged me once and I lost so bad, I broke my wrist. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the prize is a philter of love! Don’t you know what it means? A creature who drinks it becomes charmed by another creature they see for an hour and they regard them as their true love.”   “And you would need that because….”   “To sell obviously. Unless.” You come closer to him, closing the distance between your bodies and a sly, playful smirk comes across your face. One that Yoongi finds both unsettling and provoking to his emotions. “...Unless you want to become charmed by me.”   He scoffs. “I don’t think so.”   “Because you’re already charmed, right?” You wink at him and giggle when he merely turns away and joins the lineup to play.   Yoongi ends up annihilating his competitors as you expected. He wins three rounds consecutively without one loss within minutes and hands you the prize as you’re cheering him on. The fighters and barbarians around are absolutely speechless at how such a smaller looking man seemingly without muscles could be so strong and they even challenge him directly. Yoongi sticks around for two more matches, but when the crowd grows, he decides it’s time to leave.   They beg him to stay, but he doesn’t even look back.   “You could make a living doing that, you know.”   “Playing strength games at carnivals and circuses?” He laughs and you grin, bumping into him.   “You could get famous! Think about the notoriety. People coming from far lands to challenge you.”   “Fame’s never interested me,” he breathes out.   “Wow.” You roll your eyes at his righteousness and part of you wonders what it is he actually wants. Fame and gold doesn’t seem to affect him like it does to a normal man. “The Great Min Yoongi never gets greedy for anything, huh?”   “No,” he murmurs, eyes flickering to you. “There’s definitely some things I’m greedy about.”   Before you can ask what it is specifically, he walks ahead with his arms behind his back.    You quickly catch up to him and the following game that the both of you stop at is actually something that interests Yoongi. It’s a pick pocketing challenge. People are given bright pieces of cloth to be put on their belt or in their pocket — and the last one who still has it wins a grand prize.   “Ten gold pieces?” You sharply inhale, considering it. “That’s actually not bad.”   “Want to try then?” Yoongi grins and you smile at his unexpected enthusiasm.   “You really think you could beat me in this?”   He merely shrugs and the two of you step up to join the round that starts at the beginning of the hour. You’re given a bright scarlet cloth while Yoongi’s given a soft hue of baby yellow that you find all too fitting. There are about ten people within a fifty feet circle, all of different ages. You won’t aim for the young kids, that’s a given. While children shouldn’t be underestimated, it’s clear they’re playing for fun and their parents who joined are just trying to humour them.   Your eyes, however, pinpoint on the other participants — an elderly man, a teenage girl, a married couple and Yoongi.   The Dragonborn referee blows his whistle to signify the start of the game and immediately, the teenage girl is booking for you. You dodge out of the way easily, but when you try to snatch her own cloth from her pocket, she shifts back, out of reach. The two of you stare at one another and like having mutual respect and creating an alliance, you turn away and pick different targets.   The married couple is easy to eliminate. They don’t expect it when they’re too busy with one another and you sneak up to steal their strips of cloth. You’re surprised Yoongi’s made it as long as he has and when you turn around, you find he’s taken out the elderly man ruthlessly.   “Not too bad, Yoongi.”   The corner of his mouth curls. “You underestimate me too much sometimes, Y/N.”   “We’ll see about that.”   The both of you circle each other with hooded eyes and mischievous smiles. The tips of your fingers itch to unleash magic, but you hold it back to play fair and when Yoongi swiftly surges forward, you dodge enough to barely brush against him.   You turn around, gaze locking with Yoongi’s. He grins a gummy smile full of victory and holds up your red piece of cloth that you didn’t even know you lost like it’s a winning flag. But then your eyes glitter and an enormous smile plasters across your cheeks. Yoongi finds his pastel yellow cloth is twisted around your finger and his heavy sack of gold pieces is in your other hand.   “Player four and five eliminated!”   The teenage girl ends up winning after the children forget the rules and go running out of the circle, thereby being disqualified.   “Not bad, Yoongi,” you sing-song afterwards. “But I think it’s safe to say that I still win.”   “I let you win. I know you’d sulk all night if you didn’t because you’re a sore loser.”   “Am not!”   Yoongi laughs gleefully and you can’t even feign annoyance at his teasing. You muse that there are truly few opportunities like this — where you get to spend time with someone you like as much as you like Yoongi….   The two of you soon settle down after hearing that the fireworks are beginning. If possible, the streets go into a bigger frenzy, friends coming together and families meeting in ferment. You try to go to the center of it all to watch the show, but with the crowdedness, you and Yoongi nearly lose one another.   It’s not until he grabs a hold of your hand and suggests sitting somewhere farther away that you find yourselves on a hill not far from the commotion. It’s quieter, where the noises become a lull of background sounds and you can finally hear one another’s voices. You and Yoongi sit on a dry patch of grass, shoulders brushing while you gather your knees, keeping yourself warm.   It starts after a countdown.   Colours burst in the air, one after another. They’re vivid hues that are brightened against the darkened sky, blossoming into all sorts of patterns and reflected in your irises. Some whirl into spirals, tumble in a shower and others shatter into sparks. Your breath is stolen, put into awe.   The scent of gunpowder and smokiness to the air makes the magic inside you tingle.   “Do you still want to live by yourself?” Above the bang of the fireworks is Yoongi’s husky voice. You turn to him, eyes soaking in the profile of his face illuminated by the lights. “Don’t you think you’ll be lonely living in isolation where no one can find you?”   “I never thought I would.”   You know it’s a childish dream. You came up with it as an adolescent when you were upset with your parents and you stuck with it until now. You envisioned it in moments of defiance and frustration. You held onto it with a vice-like grip. It was your anchor. Your buoy.   But you’ve been free for a long time.   Ever since you left that night with your forged documents, left behind a single note and fled without looking back, you’ve had freedom in your grasps. Now all that was left in your plan is to be kept away from the world, from any human or creature….   But as you look at Yoongi, an uneasy emotion overcomes you.   Maybe you will be lonely. Maybe the illusion is better than the reality.   You’ve always wanted a home for yourself, but a place where there isn’t anyone like Yoongi by your side feels lonely.   “I’ll make an exception,” you tell him and he turns to you, eyes locking with yours. Your mouth pulls into a smile. “You can come visit me, Yoongi. Whenever you like. It’s a one of a kind invitation.”   His lips twitch, and then they spread into a gummy grin. Yoongi’s eyes crinkle slightly, but it’s not a sight you get to savour for long when he turns away to keep watching the fireworks.    “Since we’re all getting it out in the open, can I ask why you keep calling me duckling?”   “It’s the hair.” You observe the horizon and the burst of red that comes across the darkness before more sparks spiral upwards and explode. “It’s pale yellow like a baby duck.”   You don’t notice the way Yoongi pinches the strands of his bangs. Or the way his eyes flickers up to try to see what you’re talking about. He’s never really thought about the actual shade of before — it’s always just been hair to him. It’s been the same as birth, the same as his mother’s.   And while the effort to analyze the strands are futile in this darkness and he gives up, a tender smile comes across his features.   Tomorrow, if all things go well, the two of you will finish your quest. The end is coming soon. Quicker than you’ve had a chance to realize. But you suppose that’s what time is. Fleeting.   “I’ll miss you, Yoongi,” you murmur so softly that you’re not sure if he can hear you.   But then you feel his gaze on the profile of your face and he says, “We still have to go back together. That’ll take a good week or two and even then….I don’t think I have any plans of returning to the Order.”   You’re surprised, neck whipping to the side as you look at him. “Where are you going to go?”   Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly. “I feel like I’ve spent enough time there. It’s why I took on this quest in the first place and agreed to do the favour for my mentor. I was trying to take the next step in my life.”   The next step in life.   You hum, looking at the night sky and the smoke that curls in it after the fireworks have fallen. “I’m envious….”   “You don’t have to be,” he says automatically.   Your gazes connect with Yoongi’s. “What do you mean?”   “You could do it too.”   “What would I do?” you ask, uncertain if this is an invitation to come with him, to continue your journeys together after all this is over. But Yoongi isn’t a straightforward man — that much you know. He’s blunt, though never honest with his feelings out loud. Yet in this moment, as the vivid lights are still bursting through the horizon and your eyes have met one another’s, you think you know what he means.   “Anything you want,” Yoongi murmurs in a low voice and you swear his eyes flicker to your lips.   You swallow hard and hold your breath. But as nervous as you feel, anticipation bubbles in the pit of your stomach and you lean forward, eyes fluttering shut. You feel his breath skim against your skin, warmth rising to your face and heating your cheeks like a furnace. You don’t know that Yoongi’s eyes are half-lidded, staring at your lashes as he tilts his head at a better angle.   Your foreheads nearly graze. Your mouths are a millimeter away—   “I like you!”   Both you and Yoongi jolt in your spots and your eyes open in an instant. Yoongi moves away and you turn your heads at the noise, on alert. There’s a teenage couple a few feet away by some trees and they don’t see you and Yoongi sitting together on the hill.   “Really?” the boy gives an awkward and nervous laugh.   At the same time, Yoongi releases a sigh and looks at you with a soft smile. “We should get back. There’s a long trip in store for tomorrow.”   “Y-Yeah.” You nod, getting on your feet and rushing away to try to dispel the magic spell Yoongi’s put on you that’s made your cheeks this warm.    You never notice the tender smile on his face as he stares at your backside.   //   The two of you set off an hour after the first blush before you can change your mind about coming with Yoongi. While you had planned to stay back, you can’t bear the thought of him not returning and knowing that you could’ve been there. Yoongi’s worth any kind of danger.   But it’s not like you’ll ever admit that out loud.   Your pride is too much and your fear of his impassivity to your emotions is overwhelming. Neither of you speak about last night’s affair either. How the distance was almost closed, how your lips almost touched his — maybe Yoongi changed his mind, but when he doesn’t talk about it, you don’t bring it up either.   So you both trek up the mountain in brooding silence, also sore from poor sleep. You shared the same room and bed, but peaceful slumber was far out of reach. Yoongi hogged the blanket and apparently you snored too loudly, making him beat you with his pillow several times through the night which woke you up and made you cuss at him. It didn’t help that the woman, Ashal, also barged in during the middle of the night to give you healing potions. She was the least helpful person on your journey so far and you’re glad to get away from her while you could.   “How much longer?”   “An hour. Or two.”   Yoongi twists the map around and you sigh, allowing the flame in your palm to grow and flicker. One glance at your companion and you notice the way his hands are shaking as he holds the parchment. “Aren’t you cold?”   “Not particularly,” he mumbles.   But you pull him in anyhow, looping your arm through his and holding the fire in front of both your faces. “I’m not going to save you if you freeze to death.”   The corner of Yoongi’s mouth curls. “Good to know. Are you hungry? We can take a short rest if you are or if you’re tired.”   “I’m fine. The faster we move, the quicker we get there, right? Or are we lost?”   “Stoughsby Peaks is over there.” He points and beyond clouds, you can see the imposing silhouette. What was a tiny shape back in the village has now taken up the entire horizon. “I know where we’re going.”   “Uh-huh.”   Yoongi folds up the map, places it into his pocket and buries his hands deep, finally getting them warm. You don’t miss the way he leans into your frame as well, how he comes closer to the fire dancing in your palm and you keep the flame strong so there’s some sort of heat.   You wouldn’t say it — but you’re happy to keep him warm.   “Are you not coming with me into the cave?” he asks, a cloud of air emitted from his mouth as he does so.   “I’ll support you from outside.”   “Are you scared?” his brow raises, finding such a thought surprising since it’s rather uncharacteristic of you to be.   “It’s not that. It’s….” Your voice grows quieter as your eyes narrow into this distance. Yoongi’s staring at you, but when you nudge his arm, he follows your line of vision. “Yoongi….what is that?”   There’s a rising shadow, an outline of a ginormous centipede but with wings, and it’s coming closer. Slowly and carefully, Yoongi pulls his rapier from his sheath while you take your orb out of your satchel. The two of you hold your breaths in your nose and your other hand comes to tug on Yoongi’s sleeve.    As the seconds pass, you’re finally able to discern what’s approaching — a monster that’s forty feet, scaly body with horns and an insect-like head. It’s ice-blue in colour with a dozen legs, and its back glows red with an inner fire.   “Oh fuck...oh fuck.”    Both you and Yoongi scramble back but it’s too late. The monster had picked up your scents the moment you stepped onto its territory.    “It’s a Remorhaz!” A monstrous beast resembling a cross between a worm and a centipede that thrives in cold environments. You’ve learnt about it back in your schooling days and learnt that it’s to be avoided, that the monster is worse than death itself.   The two of you start running, though the effort is futile when you hear it shriek behind you and start chasing at an impeccable speed.    You shut your eyes and channel your magic. Without hesitation, your hand slips downwards to Yoongi’s. He turns his head to you. You cast your spell and shove him away from you.   “Y/N!” Yoongi’s eyes are wide and then he fades away into the snow. Gone from your sights.   Yoongi looks down at himself to find that his entire body, clothing and weapons are translucent. You’ve casted an invisibility spell on him and with that fact known, he grips his sword and runs forward towards the monster. He strikes it on the back, surging forward to dig his blade in and the monster shrieks.   It twists and turns. But it finds nothing in its sights.   Yoongi holds in his sharp inhale. The Remorhaz’s body is hot as if it’s oozing of fire from within and feels himself burning when he comes close.   “This is why I don’t want to fight a dragon,” you spit, terrified when the fire-resistant monster coils around to approach you. “Most of my magic is fire based!”   You run again, but turn around to cast lightning bolt. It’s one of the few offensive spells you know the monster isn’t immune against. And a stroke of lightning forming a line a hundred feet long and five feet wide blasts towards it. The monstrous beast howls in agony and anger.    At the same time, Yoongi strikes his sword twice on the Remorhaz from behind. It confuses the creature even further.   Before terror can render you frozen, your palm thrusts out. A hundred twenty feet away towards the East, you stitch together an illusion. An image of another forty feet Remorhaz twitching. It seems completely real, including sounds and smells. A picture of your new worst nightmare.   The real creature contorts its head around to look, ducking and dipping, unable to discern that it's fake. The Remorhaz’s attention is completely stolen, taken away from you. And it instantaneously dives towards it while you take a temporary sigh of relief. You’re thankful you’ve always liked illusion magic more than the fire magic and spells your family taught you.   In the meanwhile, Yoongi takes the opportunity to strike it twice more, running his blade along its scaling back, making it move away faster in a frenzy. You cast lightning bolt once more, stealing the chance while you still have it.   The creature is getting weaker. You can tell with the way it slows and slumps. But the distraction doesn’t last long. When the monster bites through the illusion and completely passes through, it turns around, bulged white eyes directed right at you.   “Yoongi….Yoongi….!”   He chases after it and throws one of his daggers with as much strength he can muster. The blade lodges into its back and the Remorhaz shrieks yet again. Unfortunately for you, you’re too slow. Your feet slide from the slickness of the ground and you fall on your back into the snow.   The Remorhaz’s jagged teeth split.   Its head snaps down to bite.   You scream bloody murder.   “Yoongi!”   There’s a sudden pained shriek — it’s ear-piercing, making your ears buzz. And you open your eyes to see the monster’s bulging ones a few inches away. It’s frozen. And you scramble back in a whimper as it falls. Colliding to the ground. Lifeless.   Yoongi’s finally visible again once your concentration has shattered. And he’s standing at the back of the Remorhaz’s neck, pulling out his rapier from the soft spot. He dives into the snow immediately to cool off his body. “Fucking hell. That….that was something alright...”   You’re gasping for air, hand over your heart that’s about to give out.   “Are you okay?” he asks and when you don’t respond, Yoongi stands. He dusts himself off and comes over.   “I...I’m fine.” You take his outstretched hand and get back onto your feet. “I...I think I might need that short rest though.”   “Okay. We can do that.”   You’re reeling and your eyes peel away from the dead monster to Yoongi’s. “You...saved my life.”   “This isn’t the first time, you know,” he says with a tender smile as if he’s willing to do it a hundred more times. Yoongi’s hand pats your head affectionately as he passes by you.   You snap out of it quickly and join his side, getting the hell away from the large corpse as fast as your feet can take you.    Yoongi doesn’t ask why you decided to save him first, why you used your invisibility spell on him and not yourself. With the way you’ve been looking at him when you think he’s not looking, he already has an inkling of the reasons. And he smiles to himself, merely glad the feelings are mutual.   “W-We’re going to need a plan to fight that dragon.”   “We’re? You’re coming with me?”   “I think I owe it to you after that. At least to help in any way I can.”   The tiny smile he’s been repressing stretches into a gummy grin.   //   Stoughsby Peaks is a snowy mountain in an inhibited empty void. It’s quiet, eerily so. In the patches without snow is exposed rocky terrain that’s rough against your shoes. The opening at the entrance stares right at you as you climb the steep slope. It’s a dark cavern without a lick of light, making you unable to see anything inside. But there’s another path on the left that wraps around, leading to the top.   “So this is it…..”   Both you and Yoongi are stuck in your spots, gawking at your inevitable demise.   Had you told yourself a few weeks ago that you would be encountering a dragon with a stranger that’s no longer a stranger to you, you would’ve laughed before packing your bags and hitching a ride back to your overbearing family. As restrained as your freedom was, you were at least safe and away from danger.   But as you stand here next to Yoongi, oddly enough, you don’t feel frightened.   You feel….calm.    Maybe Yoongi’s finally emanated his stoicness and projected his indifference onto you. But you have a feeling that even if you become consumed by your own fire or that of the dragon’s, you wouldn’t mind as long as he’s there with you.   “It’ll be okay,” he says.   “Yeah…” You exchange soft expressions. “I know.”   The interior of the cave is damp, carrying a musty odor that makes you shudder when you sniff. But you try not to gag, instead keeping quiet as you stalk the walls. You and Yoongi are both hidden, coming inside from different points — you from the upper path while he took the main entrance. You can’t see him, but you know he’s here.    The plan is to stay hidden, to channel and conjure your illusion magic as a distraction while Yoongi fights the creature — a strategy similar to the one used with the Remorhaz.   So you keep yourself small, sliding behind a large boulder at a tiny plateau, a spot above the ground that makes your stomach coil when you realize you could fall to your death. It’s dark, but there’s light that comes up from the opening at the top of the mountain, a subtle beam cascading in.   But as you peek out for a tiny look, your breath hitches. There’s a mountain of diamonds and other light-hued gemstones at the bottom, a horde of highly polished platinum and silver pieces, works of art that look like mirrors, all glittering like ice. More importantly, the dragon having a slumber on top of its riches isn’t red, brass or gold like you feared it to be.   The sleeping, scaled beast with barbed claws and wide wings is white.   It’s a white dragon — a dragon of ice.   You nearly scream of delight, but you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to not be too loud. If you knew that the dragon wasn’t fire-breathing or fire resistant from the start, you would’ve marched straight in and torn this mountain apart. It’s not like a white dragon is any less fearsome, but now you know your abilities aren’t completely useless.   The dragon shifts, huffing through its nostrils and you have an inkling it’ll awake soon. Time was running out — the opportunity is still at hand and so, you steal it.    Before Yoongi can run in and sacrifice himself.   You grip onto your swirling orb and slide out into the open. Your fingers point at the stirring beast. At once, a bright streak flashes from your flesh. It blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flames. The fireball spreads around all corners of a twenty foot radius sphere. And the ice dragon awakes with a pained growl from deep within its stomach.   Yoongi who’s been hiding behind other rocks is startled, cussing you under his breath for being a reckless brat and foiling the plan. But he takes it in stride and once the fire dissipates, he comes out and tosses the dagger. It hits — the blade dug in between the wings of the dragon.   “Who. Goes. There?!”    The dragon’s pained voice booms and echoes throughout the mountain, ricocheting in your ears and rumbling the ground beneath you. He is frightening, his presence calling all those to bow down to him, but you and Yoongi are unaffected.    “Come. Out!”   You follow its orders, but only to hurl another fireball at it.   Its howl is thunderous as its heavy limbs and scales are burnt, and Yoongi uses his secondary weapon that he seldomly touches, a crossbow, to shoot it at a distance. The arrow pierces into its leg. Yet the dragon’s attention has been taken by you and in spite of its heavy limbs and scales, it moves swiftly and dexterously. The creature of great stability inhales and then exhales an icy blast centered on you.   You’re able to move away, diving out of its range, but the damage has also been done. Your leg is encased in ice, but you prop yourself against the mountain’s wall and channel the magic that runs through your blood. Your hand lifts and you create a wall of fire to protect yourself from it.   It’s sixty feet long, twenty feet high and a foot thick. The wall is opaque, flaring every so often and heating up your cheeks. It makes your skin feel like it’s melting off of your face, your eyeballs burn to the back of your lids. Yet the orange glow almost seduces you to come closer, to feel the true intensity of the heat.   You allow the phoenix fire blazing within you to unleash — and your slumped form is magically wreathed in swirling fire. A bright light sheds from your flesh and your eyes glow like hot coals.   “How. Dare. You?!”   “Where is she?!” you strain your voice, allowing it to pull from your vocal cords. “Or did you already eat her?!”   “Who. Do. You. Seek?!”   “Sorli Stav’s daughter. Mina Stav,” you spit feverishly, barely able to recall their names as you feel yourself on the verge of burning.   “You. Come. For. Mina?!”   Yoongi fires another arrow and you hear the beast roar in torment. Despite the fire that you’ve stitched together to encase you, Yoongi dashes up the slide of the slope, shouting your name.   At the same time, the white dragon crosses the wall of fire. It braces through the flames, taking damage and howling as it does so. But once it makes it to the other side and claws at you, the flames wrapped around your body burns it further. You don’t go unscathed either — lacerated in three different strokes from your shoulder downwards and feeling the bleeding wound go numb from the coldness of the creature.   Still, your trembling hand lifts and you create three rays of fire in your palm, throwing them at the dragon with little effect.    It’s over. Surrounded by your fire, at the hands of a dragon emulating ice, you can only hope your family won’t be too disappointed. You can only hope that Yoongi makes it out alive.   But the man you’re thinking about, with his pastel yellow hair that you adored from the second you laid eyes on him, he rushes in front of you. His blade, drawn and shimmering in the glow of your inferno, strikes down upon the dragon. He flicks his wrist, raises his arm and slices him across his muzzle.   The dragon cries and Yoongi yells deep in the pits of his stomach before surging forward, driving the sword further into its hide.   “Yoongi.”   Before he can grip the handle and use his body weight to tear the blade down the dragon’s front, there’s a scream of terror—   “Wait!”   A girl covered in a black cloak, skirt of her white dress peeking out, comes into view. She stands at the entrance of the cave, chest rising and falling as she gasps. And she pulls her hood down, revealing brunette curls and brightened eyes.   “Please don’t hurt him,” she begs.   Your brows furrow, having no idea who she is or where she even came from. But Yoongi seems to know her with the way he steps forward and his eyes become rounded, recognizing her from a painting he had seen. “Mina?”   “Mina?!”    You whip your head over and everything finally clicks.    //   The kidnapped girl you were sent to rescue was in fact not kidnapped.   “We met when I was a child and he saved me when I was lost in the forest for days,” Mina reminisces with a tender smile, looking over at the dragon that’s polymorphed himself into a human form. He’s become an otherworldly man with long, black hair, his skin fair yet his eyes still icy blue. He doesn’t have any cuts or bruises from the earlier fight either.   If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was a divine being.   “We became friends and...somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him.”   You’re still reeling. It’s hard to comprehend what’s going on. Or wrap your mind around the fact that there’s a tunnel system underneath the mountain and they have a whole living space here. As Mina speaks, you soak in the mundane kitchen space — the glass cupboards of mugs and teacups, the cozy picture frames of flowers in a row above the sink.   “We’ve been together for years, but it was only recently I decided I wanted to be with him forever without needing to hide him or myself.” She lifts her hands, placing it on top of his on the table and he smiles, turning his palm around to interlace their fingers together.   “Your mother thinks you were kidnapped,” Yoongi tries to explain, “She sent us here to find you.”   Mina sighs. “My mother is an...anxious woman. I left her a letter, but it seems like she still thinks I was taken against my will.”   “Maybe you can write her another letter,” he offers. “We’ll deliver it and tell her our own account on how you want to stay here.”   “But even then, who’s to say she won’t hire someone else to force her back?” you pipe up, turning to Yoongi. You know full well how overbearing family members can be and with the way that woman had disdainfully spoken about the Ice Dragon, there’s no way she’ll allow her daughter to be with him. That much is obvious to you. “She might just think we’re lying and get other people to repeat exactly what we did.”   “You’re right.” Mina’s eyes are downcast. “If she won’t even listen to me, she would never listen to you adventurers.”   “You should go back with them,” the dragon, Azer, states in a low voice. You didn’t know dragons had proper names, but you suppose in these circumstances, such a thing isn’t too strange.   “No!” She turns to him immediately. “I want to be with you. I thought we talked about this.”   “Yes, but I want you to be safe and free, and here, you’re not—”   “But I’m happy here.” Mina smiles at him lovingly and in reassurance. “I’m happy with you.”   Yet, he takes her hand and caresses it, not quite looking her in the eyes. “Even at the expense of your mother’s worries?”   “She has always worried about me. If I returned, she would marry me off to some wealthy, old man. Would you be satisfied with that?”   “Of course not.”   “So let me be with you.”   It feels like you’re intruding in on an intimate scene meant to stay between a couple. You stay quiet, trying to blend into the yellow wallpaper with Yoongi — but one glance at him and finding that he has an impassive expression, it makes your lips tickle.    You never could’ve imagined an ancient ice dragon could be such a hopeless romantic. But while things of this nature would’ve made you feel unpleasant a few weeks ago, suddenly, it seems sweet. And familiar. As if you and Yoongi have had many intimate conversations like this before.   As if you are no stranger to these affectionate-laced words.   “Please don’t tell my mother I’m here.” Mina breaks your trance, turning to you both with a desperate expression. “I don’t want her to harm Azer anymore than she already has.”   The pair of you exchange expressions and after a second, Yoongi relents. “Then we can tell her that you passed away but we defeated the dragon. We’ll need evidence for it though.”   “My blood,” the dragon in human form hums. “A vial should be enough. It’s rare to come across dragon blood, so she’ll believe you.”   Yoongi nods.   “You should leave this place too,” you say, looking around the cozy abode that they’ve made together. It would be a shame to leave this place, but a necessity for the plan. “There might be other travelers or creatures that hike up this mountain. If they see that you’re alive, the whole rouse will be over.”   They take each other’s hands, gazing at one another with warm smiles. “That’s easy enough.”   “Thank you.” Mina looks at both you and Yoongi. “Truly.”   But you don’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything spectacular. It wasn’t a fight, a battle, a victory. It was a compromise. One you had never expected to make during the trek here.   The couple offer you spare rooms to take long rests in and afterwards, they serve warm meals to satisfy the bubbling starvation in your stomach. It’s odd to see the dragon sitting there at the table, not at all resentful or angered at how you barged into his home and started to attack him without warning. He even makes jokes to you and Yoongi to which you both stiffly laugh at.    But neither of you linger for long.   When you both feel well enough to make the trip back, you bid your final farewells.   Though before you leave for good, there’s an urge to satisfy the curious question probing your brain. So you turn around to the girl you’ve been searching for all this time. “Won’t you ever get tired spending the rest of your life running and hiding?”   Mina smiles at you, a tender way you don’t yet understand. And she looks over her shoulder to the man wiping down the table. “Maybe. But I think I found something that’s worth it.”   You wonder if your own reasons are worth it.   //   A sigh befalls your lips as you walk down the steep mountain, leaving your footprints in the snow next to his. “Love does crazy things, huh?”   Yoongi steals a glance at you and smiles. “Yeah, it does.”

The journey back to Millpass takes a week without any detours.   The pair of you aren’t stoppered by ridiculous antics of other travelers nor encounter many monsters or beasts that prevent you from going forth. It’s almost ironic how smoothly and quickly things progress, how each day you make it farther than you thought was possible.   Ironically sad, of course.    Not that you would ever admit it for fear of exposing the rest of your brewing emotions. But you can’t help dwelling on the fact that the moment you learned to cherish Yoongi’s presence is when the inevitable end was approaching. Barreling towards you. Mercilessly.   Time with him always felt like it was slipping through your fingertips. To the point where you can’t even enjoy the present moment, aware that the future will have his absence. Aware that you will someday come to miss these simple affairs, these measly spats and bantering conversations.   You’ll miss him, you know that much.   How painful it’ll exactly be is something you’ll still have to wait on and see.    But no matter how much you brood, how much you try to preserve the mundane moments in your mind, the journey unavoidably ends.   In Millpass, the two of you are welcomed back as heroes. Sorli Stav is absolutely devastated over the news that her daughter is dead, but is thankful for your vengeance in ‘defeating’ the dragon. She even takes the dragon blood vial you give her as evidence, and parades it around before placing it on her mantle, underneath her ginormous portrait, as a sick memento.    The other spare dragon blood vials you have are things you sell at astronomical prices, much to Yoongi’s dismay. Although it’s not as bad in comparison when there’s a surprise celebration hosted on the streets by Sorli Stav herself. She makes sure that the whole town and their mothers know that both you and Yoongi are heroes. That you gutted that Ice Dragon to death.   There’s a party. Balloons. Free drinks. A whole speech from the mayor.   In reality, you and Yoongi are shams. Not heroes. But it’s actually not such a bad feeling.   Real heroes are overrated anyways.   “Thought I would find you here.”   Yoongi scoffs lightly but still smiles as you climb the hill and plop down beside him on the verdant grass. “I just wanted a break.”   “Too tired of all the ladies throwing themselves onto you?”   “Half of them don’t even know my name.” The man lazily grins, sitting back and leaning his weight onto his hands. “They keep calling me Yorgo. Who the hell is Yorgo.”   “Obviously the name they’re going to be screaming tonight.”   Yoongi bursts out laughing and you giggle with him.   “That mysterious front is going to land you into some trouble some day, Yoongi.”   “Yeah?” He cocks a brow, looking at you. “Is it?”   A noncommittal sound is made at the back of your throat. “People are going to fall for you left and right. What will you do then?”   “Maybe you could help me.”   “Don’t put the responsibility on me,” you tease. “It’s your fault. Appearing and disappearing. Not saying much. You just like making people wonder about you.”   “Does it work for you too?”   “Maybe.”   The evening sun’s beams pierce the sky. The sunset glow has pressed itself on your cheeks, and you both watch the soft colours cascade through the horizon, allowing the laughter of the town to fall into background noise.   Suddenly, your eyes light up as you remember something and you reach into your pocket. “Look how much gold I made. This isn’t even Sorli’s reward either. Just the dragon blood.”   He snorts and lifts his hand to feel the heavy weight of the sack. “Not bad. Are you far from your goal?”   “Halfway there,” you sing-song, “But you can keep that.”   Yoongi raises his brows, surprised that you’re sharing your wealth. “Really?”   “Yeah, I just figured….I’ve taken a lot from you anyways and it’s only fair if we half it. Plus, it can be my goodbye gift.”   It goes silent.    Yoongi holds the leather bag in his hand and focuses on it as if he’s using it to avoid his eyes straying towards you. “Are you going to look for those tapestries?”   You sigh after a moment. “No.” You can feel his gaze on you and you fiddle with your fingers. “I don’t think it’s in my reach anyways. After hearing all the rumours from different places, I have a feeling the tapestries are actually lost in the castle itself and they haven’t searched hard enough for it.”   “Then what are you planning to do after all this?”   “I...thought about what you said, Yoongi.” You shift towards him, eyes connecting. “I’m going to go home.”   “I’m tired of running away and I think it’s time I confront them and gain my legitimate freedom. I’ll fight for it. So I can come and go as I please. So I don’t have to hide under a different name.” The house that you dreamed of doesn’t need to be secluded behind a barrier in the middle of nowhere. You don’t need to go to such extremes as to cut off the rest of your family. You believe there has to be a way to have the freedom you seek and the comfort of home. “I’ll fight for it.”   “You can do it,” he whispers and you look up in surprise. Yet, Yoongi only smiles. “I believe in you.”   He is sincere. Earnest. And it means a lot coming from him, a man who is blunt and not necessarily encouraging. To have Yoongi’s support makes you feel like you could conquer anything.   “What about you? What are you going to do?”   “I should probably go back home too.” He looks off at the sunset. “It’s been a while. And there’s unfinished business I should tend to.”   You hum, following his line of sight to the beautiful sky and the fading light. Suddenly, you feel a soft touch on your finger, warm skin that hesitantly meets yours. The corner of your lips quirk and while you never once look at each other, your hand interlaces with Yoongi’s.   “We’ll see each other soon,” you promise aloud, not sure if you’re saying it for yourself or for him.   But within a beat, Yoongi hums in agreement. Like he didn’t even need to think about it.    “You still owe me that refund.”   “What about that whole sack of gold?”   “Doesn’t count. That’s a goodbye present. Not a refund.”   You laugh, leaning into Yoongi who smiles to himself.    It’s bittersweet — to know the impending yearning, but also the ultimate reunion.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi adventure #yoongi fanfiction #btsboulangerie #yoongi reader insert #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #YOONGI AS AN HONOURABLE KNIGHT WITH A DARKER BACKGROUND #WHO'S JUST TRYING TO LIVE HIS LIFE #AND GET SHIT DONE #AND OC WHO SCAMS AND LIKES TO GET INTO TROUBLE #this is definitely a different story from what I usually write #actually I wrote this while rolling dice y'all #which was new #I made character sheets for Yoongi and OC and those they have encounters with #so they had HP and spells and I kept track of everything #and also had lists and outcomes and I rolled dice while storyboarding that made decisions for me lol

[gingerest-ale]

YOUR PUNK AU ART has me on the floor. Absolutely spectacular!!!!! If you want to elaborate on your artistic choices I for one would LOVE to hear it <3

THANK UUUU!!!!!!!! also again i want to give credit to thee lovely castielsweedgarden (tumblr won’t let me tag them) for the original concept, the original post is here and their tag for alt!natural posts is here all their content is SO DAMN GOOD please check it out

OK ARTISTIC CHOICES. So for some background I’m a costume designer so I actually spent a lot of time doing research for these outfits and also I pay way to much attention to detail so get ready for an infodump because im a nerd.

DEAN

ok so my headcanon for the jacket (and if u read the og post this will make more sense hgafkgsjk) is that Dean stole it from John the night he and Sam ran away and he starts to modify it and make it his own and put patches on it that would piss off John and thats why he keeps wearing it because he took this thing his dad loved and made it his own and that is the ultimate “fuck you” to John.

Dean keeps his hair in a really short crew cut because i really enjoy Dean teasing Sam about their hair being long

Sam and Dean dye their hair in motel bathrooms and Dean changes colour every other month meanwhile Sam just dyes their hair black because “i dont want to damage my hair with bleach Dean”

I had a lot of fun with the patches and most are pretty self explanatory BUT i want to draw attention to: 

the handprint patch on Dean’s shoulder right above where the actual handprint is

the patch that says “i love my non binary child” is the first patch that goes on the jacket because Dean wants to support Sam and it is thee ultimate patch that would piss John off

The bee patch was a gift from Cas <3

Deans shirt is ripped from hunting but he likes the aesthetic of it 

The chain around his neck is silver or iron or some other useful ghosthunting metal

also the tattoo on Dean’s hand is inspired by this one fic its so good please read it

Dean wears a bunch of jewelry and you can’t see it but he also has a bunch of tattoos

SAM

Sam wears platform boots and it makes them like 7 feet tall but its ok its what they deserve

I said this in the tags but ill say it again: Sam got the spiked choker because they were tired of getting strangled by monsters all the time and honestly i think a lot of canon!Sam’s problems could be solved if he just wore a spiked choker

Anytime Dean teases Sam about their fashion choices Sam always tells him thats its for practical reasons. The rosary? Its for making holy water in a pinch. The ripped fishnets? they’ll just get ripped anyways. The platform boots? its too intimidate monsters. The spiked choker? Its self defence Dean come on, it’s a purely tactical decision, no aesthetic reason at all.

Sam modified the sweater themself. Spent the long hours in the car embroidering an exorcism onto a cropped sweater (it didn’t use to be cropped, but a werewolf clawed into the bottom part of it and well. here we are) in pink thread and sewing some black lace onto the hem.

why yes, Sam’s skirt does have a blood splatter on it!! you would think this would get Sam some suspicious looks, but their aesthetic is so Like That that people assume its just painted on in an attempt to be edgy. People who assume this are wrong.

Sam likes wearing revealing clothing because it lets other people see how insanely strong and muscled they are and alt!Sam loves being absolutely intimidating to people.

Like. Imagine. This seven foot tall giant shows up, wearing all black and spikes and you can see their insanely muscular thighs under the fishnets and oh god why do they have so many scars you Do Not Want To Mess With Them.

to be clear I think alt!Sam is just as much a sweetheart as canon!Sam is but they dont try to make themself look smaller

CAS

The shirt Cas is wearing says “BOB the man, the myth, the legend” and it is very much based on a shirt my lovely gf has.

The reason cas is dressed Like That is because he woke Jimmy up in the middle of the night and the tshirt and sweatpants and the socks are Jimmy’s pyjamas and of course he had to grab his coat and put on his crocs shoes before leaving the house to get possessed by an angel, he’s a sensible man!!!

ok so i need to talk about the crocs because some people seem unhappy about them. Castiel does not care about human fashion standards. He does not care about how he is perceived by others. Crocs are sturdy, comfortable, practical shoes to him and thats all that matters, why are you laughing Dean? They’re waterproof!

I honestly don’t know why i drew Cas with hoop earrings it just felt right but my current headcanon is because he say Beyoncé wearing some or something.

ok trench coat doodles time!!!!! there are many of them and i wont go into all of them but here are a few noteworthy ones

the one on the top right is based off a lil doodle one of writers did for a fan I think??? I can’t remember someone please link the post ;;

dean just doodles lil bees and hearts all over the place because they make Cas happy

theres a badly drawn Leviathan on there. in case you were wondering what that is

so many games of tic tac toe were played on the trench coat. Sam always takes the circles. Sam always wins.

the big heart on the bottom right contains a doodle of the poodle Dean found hot on that one terrible episode. I’m not sorry. 

I did draw an airplane with gun arms. it’s an inside joke i have with my gf. No i will not elaborate. I think that Dean drew that on there because he thought the idea was funny.

bottom left corner has cool sun wearing sunglasses because we are all kindergarteners 

the SW and DW drawn on the coat are because they put their initials on the places they call home. 

Thank u for your ask my apologies for writing ten million words about it please enjoy

#spn #altnatural #can u tell i have adhd

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #7: Fun Facts

words: ca. 900 setting: Canon lemon: No cw: None

“Hey Anna, did you know that ancient Egyptians loved playing board games?” Olaf cheerily hopped along next to Anna, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as they went.

“Hmm.” Normally she enjoyed listening to Olaf share the random facts he read, though this morning Anna’s attention was solely focused on finding Elsa.

In the middle of dinner last night, Kai introduced a tall, dirty, redhead woman named Rada. Old ruins had been uncovered the day before outside the city limits, ruins which predated the Vikings by hundreds of years, and Rada was there to request Elsa’s help shoring up the unexpectedly soft dirt in the dig while they installed more wooden retaining walls. It had been a long, lonely night in their bed but it was worth it after seeing how thrilled her sister was to help; Elsa barely paused long enough to kiss Anna farewell before leaving.

“Hey Anna, did you know that China’s shortest dynasty, the Qin Dynasty, lasted only fifteen years?”

“No, I did not know that.” A quick peek in the library found it empty.

“Hey Anna, did you know diamonds were first mined in India?”

“I did know that one.” Fascinated by the crowns their parents wore, Anna spent many hours of her childhood reading any book about gems she could find.

“Hey Anna, did you know that Roman gladiators often became celebrities and even endorsed goods?” Olaf waved his stick arms excitedly.

“Interesting.” There aren’t any visitors scheduled today, Elsa has to be in her private office.

“Anna, what’s an aphrodisiac?”

Started at the unexpected question, she turned quickly and stared wide eyed at Olaf. “W-w-what? Why are you asking that?”

“The book said gladiators sold their sweat as an ‘aphrodisiac.’” A perplexed expression and she could practically see the gears turning in Olaf’s head. “But I don’t know what that means. What’s an aphrodisiac?

“Ummm.” Anna stood there uncertain what to say.

I am not prepared to have the birds and the bees talk with him. Do snowmen need to know about the birds and the bees? Where’s Elsa?!

“Oooo, shiny!” The suit of armor on display behind her caught Olaf’s eye and he walked over to knock on the metal, causing it to sway dangerously.

“Careful, Olaf.” Memories of crashing into a set on the first floor floated back to her, the scar on her shoulder from that still visible all these years later.

“Hey Anna, did you know that plate armor became common in the fourteenth century? Before that…”

Anna struggled to hold back a sigh of relief while Olaf began reciting facts about armor and weapons. Her sister could be the one to have that uncomfortable conversation. 

It did not take them long to reach the white door with Arendelle’s coats of arms painted on it that lead to Elsa’s comfortable informal office. The large royal office further down the hall only really saw use when nobles needed to be intimidated or visitors impressed.

A quick check inside the room.

Ah.

Without making a sound, she closed the door and turned to Olaf.

“Hey Anna, did you know-“

“Olaf, where’s your book?”

“Oh no!” Little twig hands covered his mouth in distress. “I left it in the library!” Forgetting to say goodbye, Olaf hurriedly hopped back down the hall.

Once he rounded the corner, and only feeling a little guilty, Anna silently slipped into the room.

On the Chesterfield sofa facing the fireplace lay Elsa, still in the green dress from the night before and fast asleep. Smudges of dirt on her face and clothes were visible from the door.

The large area rug muffled her footsteps and Anna leaned over the sleeping form to tenderly run her fingers through messy blonde hair.

“Elsa?” More gentle caresses. “Elsa, it’s time to wake up.”

“Hmm?” Eyes fluttered open and Elsa yawned. “What time is it?”

“It’s after nine. You missed breakfast.” Helping a sleepy Elsa sit up, Anna sat next to her sister and wrapped an arm around her. “Were you out all night?”

“Almost. I returned around four.” Another sleepy yawn. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Could you have Kai send in some breakfast?”

“Arendelle will be fine without its Queen for the morning.” Anna pulled over the purple woven blanket hanging on the arm of the Chesterfield and wrapped it around them both. “Go back to sleep.”

Elsa shook her head. “But-“

“I can handle anything urgent.”

A cool hand on her cheek guided Anna closer and Elsa’s soft lips met hers in a slow, adoring kiss.

“I love you.” Eyes closed and smiling, Elsa leaned her forehead against Anna’s and sighed blissfully.

“I love you, too.” Anna couldn’t resist leaning in for one more kiss before pulling Elsa close. “Now sleep. I’ll be right here.”

Snuggling into her, Elsa lay her head on Anna’s shoulder and fell asleep almost instantly.

Minutes passed and Anna enjoyed holding Elsa in her arms, something she sorely missed the night before. The sound of the doorknob turning caught her attention. 

In waddled Olaf, holding a book almost the size of his head.

“Found my book.”

Anna held a finger up to her lips then pointed to the lightly snoring Elsa.

“Oh.” Olaf placed his book down on a nearby table and disappeared behind the sofa. Muted rustlings and then a small square table and chair were placed in front of Anna. Before she could ask what he was doing, a chess board and a wooden box containing the game pieces appeared on top.

“Hey Anna, did you know that ancient Egyptians loved playing board games?”

#elsanna #submission #february 2021 contest #prompt: ancient worlds

[catlordewrites]

Where the Roses Grow: Chapter Two

The compound on Arvala-7 didn’t house one bounty, but two. Elsi Nokk is an enslaved nanny with more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She’ll do anything to protect her charge, even if it means standing against - and then with - a certain Mandalorian. Rated M.

This story can also be found on fanfiction.net and Ao3.

@killtherandomness​

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Mild violence, strongly implied child abuse, slavery and associated themes.

Chapter One - This Chapter  - Next Chapter

Chapter Two

It was hot.

The walk hadn't started out horribly. Despite her trepidation, she was still able to appreciate a change in scenery after being penned up in the compound for so long. Thankfully, they'd only been in direct sunlight for about a half hour. After that, they walked in the shade offered by the maze of shallow canyons that stretched out around the compound in every direction.

The baby was having the time of his life. He perched in his bassinet, happy as a clam as he watched lizards skitter in and out of cracks. Life in the compound had been boring for Elsi, but it had been even more frustrating for him. Elsi had done everything in her power to keep him entertained and happy, but a child needed more than his nanny to play with while locked in the same building for so long.

There had been so many games of hide-and-seek.

To him, the change in scenery was magical. He would communicate this to his caretaker, who would humor him by nodding and forcing a smile. He also tried talking to his new friend - the Mandalorian - who ignored him entirely.

Elsi, mindful of annoying a new master - even if it was only a temporary arrangement - had to repeatedly reinforce their little 'be quiet' signal. Each time she held her finger over her lips, the baby would dutifully copy the motion and fall silent, only to forget a minute or so later and go back to chittering for attention.

Not that she blamed him. Their joint existence had been a lonely one.

. ~0~0~0~

Elsi didn't dawdle.

'Daddy's special quests', as Hetta so eloquently put it, was a not-so-discreet euphemism for 'Underworld Contacts'. Like almost every nobleman that managed to cling to power through the rise of the Empire, Lord Burkisn made deals - most under the table, some not - with Imperial officials and dealers. Elsi didn't hold it against him; he was a politician, and that's what politicians did. But now that the Empire had fallen, Lord Burkisn was scrambling to appease the New Republic while still managing old promises.

Although the Empire was technically gone, the power and influence of the Imperial Underworld remained. When an Empire Remnant called in a favor, you did your best to accommodate.

Elsi's soft shoes were soundless on the shiny tile floors as she bustled through the ornate halls, keeping to the walls in order to avoid other servants and the odd protocol droid that bumbled past.

Lord Burkisn had a wide range of servants in his household - approximately a third of them were slaves. Droids could do a slave's work, but weren't nearly as fashionable. House slaves were much harder to replace; you couldn't program them or fix them when they broke. They had to be taught. Fed. Like most pets: a potentially expensive long term investment.

She bypassed the main study - where New Republic representatives were often hosted - and down a set of stairs into the lower levels of the house. Lord Burkisn's private study was well-cushioned and unassuming, but Elsi couldn't help but feel the very air had been tainted by the people that had been hosted there over the years.

If you thought there was nothing worse than a nobleman that both owned slaves and had the gall to manipulate the New Republic system into letting him keep them - you'd be very wrong.

The prospect of a baby was troubling. Why would Underworld entities have a baby in the first place? Let alone a sick baby? Even then, why the hell were they bringing it to HER? Surely they had deep enough pockets to buy their own doctors and nannies to care for it.

She reached the polished oak door and took a moment to straighten out her cotton dress, ensuring she was prim and every hair was in its proper place. This gave her a moment to eavesdrop.

The conversation came in bits and pieces, muddled by the door.

"... Hays Minor. They won't…"

"...sold… from spice dealers on… delivery."

"We couldn't take it to… when it's…"

Lord Burkisn's voice rose above the others, shrill and irritated. "Where the hell is that damn nanny? I paid twelve thousand credits for that overpriced whore…"

Elsi grimaced, realizing that she'd already pushed her luck too far, and knocked.

"Enter!"

Elsi eased her way into the room, head down with her eyes politely on her toes, hands folded chastely in front of her.

"About fucking time," he swore at her, which wasn't out of the ordinary. However, it WAS uncharacteristic of him to do so in front of business associates. Lord Harl Burkisn was tall and on the back side of middle aged with charmingly light blue eyes, chestnut hair streaked with grey at the temples, and impeccable jawline; handsome, really. He took great pride in his appearance. His usual suave, put-togetherness was a huge part of his professional image. "What took so long?"

Elsi lowered her head further in the perfect imitation of shame. "I came as soon as I was told, sir."

He growled under his breath, "Hetta…"

Elsi did nothing to confirm or deny the inference.

Thankfully, Burkisn moved on. He flicked his fingers to summon her closer. She obeyed without question.

Though her eyes were down, she quickly surveyed the room through her eyelashes. Her master was accompanied by two other men, a human and a twi'lek. They were reasonably well-put together, but their dark, closefitting clothes suggested mercenaries, not anyone high-ranking. They were all looming around Lord Burkisn's desk, upon which sat a large metal storage container.

Lord Burkisn led her to it and gestured for her to peer inside.

When Hetta had said that there was a baby, Elsi had assumed that it would be the child of another nobleman - perhaps a bastard that they didn't want their spouse to know about and were secreting away to live somewhere else.

She couldn't have been more wrong. Or confused.

It was a child, alright. A tiny green baby with massive bat ears held flat against a dirty brown sack of an overcoat. It was short, squat, and unlike anything Elsi had seen before.

The little creature was beyond pitiful; curled up in on itself like it was trying it's hardest to be swallowed up in the dirty sack that it wore, which was already much too big for it. It sat with its back to it's audience, pressing the front of its tiny green body into one corner of the box like it desperately wanted to hide.

It was awfully, awfully still.

Elsi's heart broke for it. She looked to her master for instructions.

Lord Burkisn seemed troubled. "Can you care for it?"

Elsi didn't like making promises. "I've cared for many children."

He scoffed and dragged a hand through his hair, making it stick out in every direction. "Yes. Yes. But this one?"

"I don't see why not. But…" She hesitated. "Is it alive?"

Burkisn whipped back around to study the child more closely. His eyes glittered nervously as his less practiced gaze caught what Elsi had seen at once: the unnatural stillness, how quiet it was. Children weren't supposed to act like that.

He turned and fixed the two couriers with a glare.

"Err…" The twi'lek shuffled nervously, very much out of his comfort zone. "Should be…"

"When did you last check?"

"This mornin'," the human said defensively. "It's been sluggish since we got it, but it hasn't done much since midweek. It just sits and stares."

"What changed then?"

"Nothin'! We kept in the landspeeder, just like always - "

"On Hays Minor? It's freezing there! And you just left it in the speeder?" Burkisn accused, dark eyes thunderous with disgust. "This precious, EXPENSIVE asset? And you've treated it so carelessly? Can you even BEGIN to understand what they'll do to m… to YOU… if it perishes? Do you change it? When's the last time it had anything to eat? Have you bathed it recently?"

Rich, coming from a man that hadn't done any of those things for a child in his life. Elsi wasn't fooled by the righteous tirade. It had nothing to do with the baby's welfare.

"Is it alive or not?" He went on to demand. He was worried. While coming to the 'rescue' of something valuable could be beneficial, having the asset die while under his roof would be very, very bad indeed.

The courier closest to the crate reached out a gloved hand and gave the box a sharp shake. Elsi was no stranger to cruelty; her expression didn't change.

The baby gave a barely audible squeak as it was loosened from its makeshift safe spot. Other than that, it's only response was to weakly shift to press its face back into its corner.

"See?" The twi'lek said triumphantly. "It's alive."

The poor thing was half frozen. Lonely and terrified. No wonder it was sick.

Elsi grit her teeth, anxious to be rid of the other adults so she could take over.

"If it's sick, shouldn't we take it to a medical facility?" The human courier piped up. His eyes ghosted over Elsi's form appraisingly. "No offense, but why're we just giving it to a house slave?"

Burkisn sniffed. "You've lost the right to make those decisions. And do you think I'd let my daughter, my own flesh and blood, be cared for by any less than the best?" He prodded Elsi roughly in the shoulder. "Your credentials."

Elsi's collar felt tighter than usual. It was the same practiced spiel she'd given to potential buyers since she was twelve, and she delivered it with less emotion than a droid. "Educated by the Flirkgen Order of Servitude, First Class. I am trained in all forms of childcare from birth to adulthood, including, but not limited to: childbirth, nursing, emergency first aid, education, and nutrition. To date, I have cared for…"

Burkisn silenced her with a wave of his hand. "You see? We can't risk calling for a doctor, anyhow. The asset doesn't exactly blend in, does it? And if they found out it…"

He cut himself off. Elsi didn't bother wondering who 'they' were.

"Can you care for it?" Burkisn repeated. "Nurse it back to health?"

"I'm not a doctor, master," Elsi said warily. She wouldn't know the full extent until she'd had a chance to look it over properly, but the poor creature already seemed half dead to her. "But I will certainly do my best."

"Good. It's settled." He clapped his hands with an air of finality. "You'll make it your top priority. All of your other duties are suspended till further notice."

That was fine by her, so long as she didn't have to be the one to tell Hetta. The child did NOT like sharing anything, especially the slaves that were at her beck and call. There were other childminder's in the household that were more than qualified to care for the master's child, but none of them were Elsi.

Elsi bowed deep. "Yes, master."

We waved her away. "Take it, then. I'll inquire later as to your progress."

With a final curtsy, Elsi bustled forward and picked up the crate, closing the lid in hopes of making the little creature feel a little safer. The metal was icy cold against her skin. Without a moment to spare, she hurried out of the room.

~0~0~0~ .

Elsi was exhausted.

The skin under her collar still burned, the already tender skin actively being rubbed raw by the collar every time she moved her head. Every muscle in her body threatened to give out at a moment's notice. She moved in constant fear that the next step would be the one to send her sprawling to the ground.

She wasn't sure she wanted to suffer that brand of embarrassment today. Not that she had much pride left after a lifetime of humiliation and servitude, but she already had enough to worry over.

She stumbled a few times, but didn't fall. She kept walking.

After several hours, their pace had begun to slow. With every step, a little of the strength she'd pretended to have was leached away. It took everything she had to put one foot in front of the other.

The Mandalorian didn't comment, but Elsi noticed how the brisk, utilitarian pace he'd originally set had dwindled to something that was clearly designed to accommodate her. She appreciated, yet hated it.

Being thought of as weak was usually a good thing. But it wasn't in this case because it was the truth. Being underestimated gave her an edge, one that - staring at the tattered, dirty cloak of the silent wall of armor that stalked silently ahead of her - she wished she still had.

The baby finally settled down, tired from the day. He sat in his bassinet, nibbling his cloth frog and peering out at the changing scenery. His dark eyes flickered as he sought out the lizards that occasionally darted across their path.

Elsi knew he must be getting hungry. She was, too. Their last shared meal had been that morning, and it was well into late afternoon now. Elsi was used to functioning on very little; years of being fed the bare minimum had taught her to ignore the empty gnawing in her gut.

She didn't want the baby to have to learn the same way she did, but had a feeling that the Mandalorian wanted to get somewhere specific before nightfall. The canyons weren't exactly the best place to spend the night. Too many places for an enemy to hide.

She would wait until then before asking for a brief respite to feed her charge.

As if to confirm her suspicions about the canyons, the Mandalorian suddenly came to a halt. He lifted a gloved hand, cautioning Elsi to do the same. It was unnecessary, of course, because she'd heard it as well.

A near-silent footstep. The soft clink of a rock being kicked out of place and knocking into another. A quick, panted breath.

Then silence.

Elsi cast a warning glance at the baby, who didn't need to be directly told to stay silent. The adults' sudden tension was more than enough. He gripped his frog tighter.

Elsi watched the Mandalorian closely, taking note of the tension in his shoulders, waiting for some kind of signal.

She saw the Mandalorian's hand ghost over his blaster.

When the first bounty hunter exploded out of the shadows, Elsi was already on the move. While the Mandalorian met the threat, both of them, head on, Elsi made a beeline for the bassinet.

Sand flew as the sound of battle echoed throughout the narrow canyon. The baby whined when she scooped him into her arms. She hushed him, giving him a little reassuring bounce before slinking away from the conflict.

The baby cried out, distraught. He'd tried to take his frog with him, but dropped it. Elsi cast a glance backward to see it lying prone in the sand, only a few meters away from where the bounty hunters fought.

She went on, melting into the shadows and through a passage in the canyon walls. Worst case, she could make him another.

Elsi turned twice down different paths before deciding they'd gone far enough. She leaned her back against the stone, tucking them away in a dip in the rock face. The sounds of the fight had faded, leaving the pair washed in a heavy silence. Elsi struggled to quiet her breathing, which rasped loudly in her throat as she fought to catch her breath.

The baby buried his face against her chest and grumbled.

"Froggy's fine," she sighed, tipping her head back against the rock and closing her eyes. "We'll get him in a minute."

From what she'd seen, the Mandalorian had been holding his own fairly well, so hopefully they'd be able to go back to the bassinet in a few minutes. Not that she wanted to go with the faceless hunter, but for now she preferred him to the others. At least she was almost certain that he didn't have any immediate plans for killing her or the baby.

Also, he had her fob. She couldn't go very far without it.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian was there. He appeared without warning, scaring the shit out of Elsi - though she'd never show it.

He was more or less unscathed except for a gash in his upper arm. It looked nasty, but he seemed unbothered.

His helmet ticked forward minutely. "You good?"

Elsi's response was collected and emotionless. "Yes."

The child chirruped to say that he was fine, too, thanks for asking.

The Mandalorian cocked his head slightly, then held something out to him. The baby's ears perked forward when he recognized the beloved patchwork frog sitting in the warrior's hand. He gave a squeal of delight and all but threw himself out of Elsi's arms to get it.

Elsi almost dropped him, but was able to adjust fast enough to prevent him from falling. With a weary sigh, she moved to place the baby back in his bassinet, which still floated obediently at the Mandalorian's elbow.

The baby hummed happily and snuggled down in his blankets, squishing Froggy against his cheek.

Elsi's quick eyes went back to the gash on the Mandalorian's arm, then lowered submissively, fixing on the diamond shaped indent on his cuirass. "Your injury looks painful. I can dress it, if it pleases you."

His shoulders settled back; in surprise, Elsi thought.

"It's fine," he rasped. "We need to keep moving."

Elsi didn't argue.

. ~0~0~0~

Despite the awkwardness of the box, Elsi took the steps of the narrow servants' staircase two at a time, doing her best not to jostle the baby.

She winced and murmured an apology when she accidentally bumped it against a wall as she turned a corner, feeling the occupant slide from one corner to another.

Elsi bumped the door to her room open with her hip, and then closed it with her foot. As the head child-minder of a prestigious household, she had been granted her own quarters. She was still a slave, so it wasn't much: a small bed, a fireplace, a couple of chairs, a minuscule refresher, and a table that was covered with her current sewing projects.

She swept the half-finished articles of clothing off the table without a second thought, no longer caring if they got trampled and dirty, then sat the crate gingerly in their place.

Finally alone, Elsi flipped open the lid. Now she was closer, she caught a whiff of what could only have been the child; an unpleasant mix of bodily waste and mildew.

A distraught sigh hissed between her teeth. Elsi cautiously moved to pick up the baby.

The baby seemed to know she was coming and pressed itself more firmly into the corner. She crouched beside the table so that she was level with the box, reaching out tentatively towards the cowering child to smooth the fuzz on the back of its head.

The baby squeaked weakly, somehow succeeding in making itself look smaller. Elsi recoiled. Time was at the essence, but the last thing it needed was to be frightened even more.

"It's okay," Elsi hummed in her most reassuring voice, the same tried-and-true one used to soothe nightmares. She settled back just enough to kneel in the chair and rested her forearms on the edge of the crate.

The baby whined.

"Hey, hey. Shhh," she murmured, reaching out again and brushing her knuckles gently down the baby's spine. It quivered. She repeated the motion, "It's okay. You're okay. Shh."

The baby gave a plaintive squeak that was muffled by the side of the crate.

"Yeah, I know you're cold," she crooned. "Will you let me warm you up?"

The baby didn't comment, but it did turn its head, daring to peer at her with dark, watery eyes. Elsi noted the crusty discharge that had dried at the corners. Then the dampness of its nose.

"Can I hold you?" She asked, holding out her hands to it expectantly.

The baby squeezed its eyes shut.

Elsi figured that it was the closest thing to permission she was going to get. She gingerly wrapped her fingers around the baby's middle and lifted. He weighed next to nothing; she could wrap her hands all the way around him. She immediately transferred him to her chest, tucking his fuzzy head under her chin. Tiny claws curled into the fabric covering her collarbones.

Holding him in place with one hand, she bustled around the room, humming softly for the baby's sake as she unearthed cloth diapers, towels, and wash rags.

She took the supplies to the refresher, where she spread out one of the towels on the counter next to the sink, which she then filled partway with warm water. The child was far too small to consider using the tub.

Careful to cradle his head, Elsi eased the baby down on the counter. His sallow green skin stood out starkly against the fluffy white towel. The child stared up at her blankly through half-closed eyes.

"We're gonna get you clean, m'kay? The water's nice and warm for you. Then maybe you'll feel a little better. That sound good?" She explained to him kindly, but he only blinked in response.

The baby was heartbreakingly easy to manipulate out of his clothes, making her suspect that he was used to being handled roughly. She made a point to be as gentle as possible.

"Do you like bubbles?"

Before his bath, Elsi wiped him down and checked for injuries. He didn't react much to the water, leaning heavily into the hand that was keeping him propped up while she smoothed his skin with the gentlest soap she had and ran a kitten-soft washcloth over his ears.

After, she wrapped him in a small clean blanket instead of redressing him. His tiny robes would need to be cleaned before she would even consider putting them on him again, and even then, they were past use.

She would make him others, but that would take some time.

She laid him against her chest, lifting one of his little three-fingered hands to her lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. Elsi toed off her shoes and settled down on her bed. The baby snuffled a little, but otherwise stayed quiet as she tugged the other blanket over top of them both.

He felt much warmer now, at least. Elsi nuzzled the top of his head, breathing in the gentle smell of flowers from the soap. The baby mumbled softly before blinking his eyes closed.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. Elsi rubbed her hand up and down his back. Pressed kisses to the top of his head. Stoked his ears. Hummed a lullaby. Then another.

It seemed that he had given up, but children could be dazzlingly resilient. As awful as he seemed now, he could be up and playing in a day or two. She'd seen it before. Hopefully, a little love and attention would be enough to breathe a little life back into the poor little runt.

She wasn't optimistic, but that wouldn't stop her from trying.

~0~0~0~ .

The trio walked well into the evening, not stopping until the canyons were far behind them and they were surrounded by nothing but flat, rocky plains.

Elsi saw the logic. Out here, nothing could sneak up on them. The Mandalorian would see or hear anything a long time before it became an active threat.

Though she appreciated the strategic value of the decision, she loathed the bounty hunter for forcing them to travel so far before resting.

The last of the sun's rays were fading below the horizon, painting the desert in a myriad of lovely violet hues. The Mandalorian chose a flat-ish expanse of rock to kneel down, producing a collapsible lantern. He set it down at the center of the space and turned it on, casting them all in an orange glow.

"We'll camp here tonight."

Music to Elsi's ears. She all but collapsed to the ground, disguising her exhaustion as productivity by immediately starting to dig through the russack bag. She found the water and two jerky ration packs that she and the baby would share. She uncorked the water and drank, nursing it to make it last.

"Muu?"

The last few hours had them walking directly into the setting sun, prompting Elsi to close the bassinet shutters so as to offer the baby some shade. He'd been quiet for the most part, but now that they'd stopped moving, he seemed to have enough reason to draw attention to the fact that he still was still secluded.

"Muuuu?" Muu? A soft, drawn-out squeaky sound, always turned up at the end like a question. It was the baby's name for his caretaker. It was cute, really. So much better than Nan.

Elsi forced herself back to her feet, ignoring the screaming of her aching muscles in favor of retrieving the baby. When the shutters peeled away, he rewarded Elsi with a wide, toothy grin.

Mood slightly improved, she got him out, but also tugged the bassinet over to where she'd been sitting: away from the Mandalorian.

The baby trilled conversationally at the bounty hunter, who continued ignoring him. In the time it had taken Elsi to get the baby and sit back down, the Mandalorian had removed his cuirass and sat prodding at its inner workings with a tool from his belt.

The baby was entranced by the occasional shower of sparks tossed into the air as the Mandalorian worked, but not so much that he was distracted from consuming every morsel of food Elsi placed in his greedy little hands.

She figured that she ought to hurry. While she was no expert on Mandalorians, she was vaguely aware of the limitations regarding the helmet. He hadn't been able to eat or drink all day, and while Elsi didn't really care much for his welfare, she knew she would if he became frustrated and decided to take it out on her. He could also die from heatstroke, which would essentially trap her and the baby in the middle of the desert.

Until a better option presented itself, he was their best bet.

Elsi didn't give two shits about seeing his face. She had better things to worry about than satisfying basic curiosity - especially curiosity that could end with him killing her out of rage. If he simply asked her to not look, she wouldn't. As her (temporary?) owner, he could also order her not to look, and she'd have no choice but to obey.

But she didn't think he would do either. The Mandalorian would probably wait until they'd both fallen asleep to remove his helmet; which was absolutely no problem for Elsi - she was already half-asleep sitting up. The baby was a little trickier. Elsi would have to make sure he was asleep before settling down herself.

Luckily, the baby hadn't slept much throughout the day. By the time he finished eating, he was snuggling into Elsi's shoulder, making the soft little grumbling noises he made when he was tired.

Elsi hummed to him, soft enough that only he could hear, rubbing his back in time with the melody. It was an old slave song, one she distantly remembered her mother singing for her when she was fussy and small.

The humming also kept the baby from hearing the sounds that the Mandalorian was making. Forgoing Elsi's offer to clean and dress the wound on his arm, he'd settled on cauterizing it with the same tool he was using to repair his armor.

It looked painful. She almost insisted that he stop and let her tend him, but then remembered that she didn't care.

Elsi tucked the sleeping baby in the bassinet, ensuring he was snuggly wrapped in his blankets and clutching his stuffed frog before she closed the shutters.

Confident that he would sleep through the night, Elsi lay down on the stony ground with the russack bag tucked under her head. Mindful to keep her back to the Mandalorian, she allowed her exhausted and abused body to finally rest.

~0~0~0~ .

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[cloverhighfivewritestoo]

Pineapple and Pizza

In which Cas meets Dean at the office’s happy hour and they fall in love right off the bat. Now they’re trying to take this to the next (sexy) step… Trying being the operative word here. Start at the beginning Chapter 3 of 8 - Dinner at Dean’s  👉 Read it on Ao3 w/c - 1.5k

Dean was being more anxious in the kitchen than he should be. There was a knock on the door. Dean ran (almost tripped on the carpet) and opened. A smile lit up his face. “Hi, Cas.” Castiel, who seemed unsure the second before, smiled the moment he saw Dean. “Hello, Dean. Seems I got the right place.” Dean stepped aside, smiling wide. “If not, I’m keeping you anyway. Come in!” Castiel stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He looked at Dean, so handsome in his red plaid shirt. He’d tucked it in his jeans, and wore a belt. It was… very flattering.

Castiel lifted the six-pack he had in his hand. “I brought some beer.” Dean took them. “Whoa. Thanks! What are those? They look fancy.” “Some microbrewery limited edition thing. They’re all different.” Dean walked to the kitchen, Castiel following. “Hm. There’s one here that says Apple and Lavender. That’s just weird.” Castiel sat on a stool by the counter. “Maybe it works.” “At least they’re already cold. Wanna try it right now?” “You try it. You like beer more than me.” Dean poured the beer in a very thin glass he’d fetched from the freezer. “You keep glasses in the freezer?” “It’s a hack. Makes sexy beer glasses.” The glass frosted over and water quickly beaded. As Dean held it up, it made for an ad-worthy picture. Castiel pointed out, “It is sexy indeed.” Dean smirked. “The beer or me?” Castiel just smiled. “Hmmm.” Dean licked his lips – it seemed to be a reflex, and Castiel was not complaining – and took a sip, under Castiel’s very focused gaze. He put the glass down. Castiel was still very focused on Dean, waiting. Dean cocked his head. Castiel burst out, “And? How is it?” “It’s subtle. I think it works. Want a taste?” He pushed the glass towards Castiel. Castiel took a sip. His face immediately scrunched. “That’s not good.” He smacked his tongue. “Bleargh! You like that?” Dean was laughing. “I don’t! It’s horrible!” Castiel was still trying to smack the taste out of his mouth. “Fuck. That was really bad.” “Hehe. But do you want a beer though?” He turned the pack so Castiel could see the selection. “I’ll take the IPA.” “Here.” Dean gave Castiel the IPA in a frozen glass. He looked at the pack. “I’ll have… this one. Dreamy Night. Hints of chocolate and blueberry.” He looked over to Castiel, making a point of looking at his hair and into his eyes. “Seems fitting.” Castiel blushed a little. Dean raised his glass. “Here’s to our first date.” Castiel smiled and clinked his glass on Dean’s. They drank, looking at each other, smiling in their beer. Castiel needed to distract himself from the fire catching inside just looking at Dean’s beautiful green eyes. “So, what are we having?” “I hope you like steak.” “I do.” “Great. Cause these steaks marinated all afternoon – my recipe – and we have jacket potatoes with all the fixings – the potatoes will be ready in 20 minutes – and a side of salad, because I thought you might like veggies.” “That sounds great. Jacket potatoes… that’s baked in the oven, right?” “Yeah. Put them in a bit before you arrived.” Castiel nodded towards the oven, eyebrows raised. “What?” Dean turned to look at the oven. “FUCK.” He turned on the oven. “In an hour. They’ll be ready in an hour. Shit.” “So we have a whole hour to kill.” Dean went around the counter and stood before Castiel. He put a hand on his knee. “Whatcha wanna do?” Castiel hummed. He wanted to devour Dean here and now, but he wanted to play it cool too. He hooked a finger in Dean’s pants and brought him closer. He kissed him. “Hm, I don’t know… Why did you invite me over again?” “Mmm… If we go all the way, we might get distracted and the potatoes will burn.” “Just put a timer.” “We could be in the middle of it, I will not stop for potatoes.” Castiel knew if Dean went down on him right now, he’d be done way too fast for his pride. He was a bit sad Dean was not as wired up as him. “Jeez, Dean, it’s a whole hour. How much foreplay do you need?” “I didn’t say we’d be in the middle of our first time.” Castiel felt heat rise and spread across his face. Dean smiled. “The blue of your eyes make a beautiful contrast to the red of your face. You’re absolutely adorable.” He kissed him. Castiel felt his pants tighten a little. “Actually, I can show you around the place. I got distracted by the beers.” “Oh, only the beers?” Dean showed the apartment to Castiel. There wasn’t much to show, only two bedrooms and a bathroom. “You have a big bath.” “Yeah. Came with the place, and I found out I like to stew a little sometimes. I put on some music and relax. Just, don’t tell my brother. I wouldn’t hear the end of it.” “So you have a brother.” Dean’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Sam. He’s my little brother, but he’s actually a giant. My mom passed when I was four, and my father traveled a lot when we were kids, so I practically raised him. He’s a lawyer now. I think I did a good job.” Castiel loved the look in Dean’s eyes. Clearly, his brother was the world to him. “I’m sure you did. And fed him right, too, if I judge by the dinner that awaits us.” “I sure did. He’s freakishly tall. But back then I was the master of mac and cheese.” Dean couldn’t stop smiling. Castiel was intrigued. “Master of mac and cheese. I feel like there’s more to this.” “Actually, some of the recipes were disgusting. But hey, we were kids, we loved it.” “Are you gonna make me disgusting mac and cheese some day?” Dean had a twinkle in his eye. “Do you like marshmallow fluff?” “OH EWWW!” Dean laughed and took Castiel in a hug. “I’d never do that to you.” “Thanks. That was scary.” Castiel held on to the hug a bit longer, getting lost in how good Dean smelled. Dean stepped back and patted Castiel on the shoulder. “Let’s move this to the living room.” The ambiance was a bit strange. They were at ease with each other, but they were not drunk and this setting was different. Even with the kisses and hugs they exchanged, there was still this shyness in the air. It was as if they were trying to go through the normal dating steps when in fact they just wanted to jump each other’s bones. Castiel sat on his stool by the counter. Dean opened two new beers and got two new glasses. “OK, the potatoes are almost done. Let’s get this dinner moving.” He got things out of the fridge and put them on the counter. Castiel looked at the myriad of containers. “So those are the fixings for the potatoes.” “Yep.” “And what is the pineapple for?” “I don’t know. I know you like pineapple, so I got a fresh one and cut it this afternoon.“ “You can put little pieces in the salad, it’s nice.” “What? No.” Castiel chuckled. “You can use it to marinate the meat, I’ve seen that somewhere.” “I will not marinate meat in pineapples. Stop it.” Castiel chuckled again. Dean smiled fondly. “Maybe we can melt some chocolate and eat it as a fondue.” “That’s a nice idea.” Dean looked Castiel in the eyes. “And, you know, pineapple and chocolate is even sweeter than just pineapple.” Castiel smirked. “I think I know where this is going.” “I sure hope so. I planned for this.” “You’re not very subtle.” Dean went around the counter and took Castiel in his arms around the shoulders. “I don’t need to.” He pulled Castiel close and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I don’t want to.” Castiel came in for another kiss but Dean let Castiel go and went back to the other side. “You fucking tease.” Dean chuckled. “You know, this is the best. We can do the date thing, and I don’t have to tiptoe, wondering where your head’s at. We can do all of this and then when we’re ready, we just… jump into it. It’s really cool.” Castiel smiled softly. “Yeah. It’s nice not to worry.” He got lost in Dean’s eyes a moment, then he slapped his hands on the counter. “So, um, anything I can do to help?” “Yep.” Dean put the forks, steak knives and napkins on the counter. “Help me set the table, please?” Castiel took the cutlery and napkins. “With pleasure.” He swiveled around to get up but he disappeared from view with a thud, the stool following on the ground. “FUCK! AHHHHH! DEAN!” Dean ran around the counter. “Cas! You OK?” Castiel was on the ground, cutlery flown everywhere, blood staining Castiel’s jeans around where he was pressing his hand… next to a knife planted in his thigh. Dean kneeled down. “What happened?” “The knife in my thigh! Dean! I’m gonna die! There’s that… that blood vessel there, the big one! I’m gonna die!” “I’m gonna call 911. Put pressure.” “Dean, I’m gonna die!” “No no no!”                »911 What’s your emergency?

On to chapter 4! 

Back to chapter 2

Back to the Masterpost of this series

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#destiel fluff #this is the longest of the chapters

[dhrdrabbles]

Four portraits of Astoria were placed across the manor.

Each was beautiful in its own regard – the tall, slender woman being surrounded by peach blossoms, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, and winterberries, respectively. Draco Malfoy had commissioned each portrait of his late wife symbolising a season after she had passed far too young, leaving her grieving husband and distraught son. Draco had wanted to make sure that she would be remembered in every corner of the haunting, old mansion and be a part of their family around the year without seeming eerily misplaced. He had also hoped for a symbolism of eternity – an endless circle of the four seasons, although this notion now struck him as a bit melodramatic.

Astoria had been Draco’s ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak youth. She was caring, smart, empathetic, and funny. Astoria’s heart was open for anyone and she treated all people and creatures equally respectful. Astoria would listen patiently and give thorough advice even at a young age. Astoria was missed by her family and friends alike, none of which could believe they had lost her so early in life. Her portraits seemed so much more alive, so much more present than other portraits of deceased persons.

So when Hermione Granger, née Granger but ex-Weasley (not by name but by statute), mother of two brilliant children, former minister for magic (the youngest on record even by the time she stepped down on her own accord), acclaimed author, and Draco Malfoy’s new partner in life, first passed one (the spring version) of the portraits she had heard so much about before she first visited the manor (aside from that fateful night over twenty years prior, let’s not discuss it, thank you very much), she was irritated to find that Astoria’s beautiful face (and Hermione was positive that this was not an embellished version of the late Malfoy (junior-)matriarch, this had been her actual face) in a bored but irritable expression.

Hermione passed her quickly then, thinking about mentioning the mood to Draco but quickly deciding otherwise. Astoria had been perfect on every account and Hermione, distinguished former minister of magic and all, had felt quite small every time Draco spoke of his late wife. It was difficult not to believe that Astoria’s grimace had been due to Hermione’s presence in the manor.

Such thoughts plagued Hermione ‘the original overthinker’ Granger until she and Draco had an ‘official’ meeting with Astoria (her summery version) where Draco’s late wife proved to be everything he had made her to be. She was interested in Hermione’s career, but more so her well-being, she was witty and snorted at the right names when Hermione told stories straight out of the Wizengamot. Even her snort was charming. Glancing at Draco during their conversation, Hermione spotted a wistful look in his eyes and she had to admit then that even without knowing her much, she missed Astoria herself.

Hermione was all the more surprised – and irritated, if she was being honest with herself – when she walked past chrysanthemum-Astoria sometime later only to find the other woman rather irritable and tight-lipped again. In this moment, Hermione did not know how to react (or act – situation far from clear: Astoria had barely returned her own greeting) and so she stomped on, inwardly fuming. Was she mad at Astoria for putting on an act when Draco was around? Was Draco part of this scheme and did he care how this made her feel at all?

She was able hold back during dinner and focused instead on Draco’s recital of his new publication on the side effects of pepper-up potion. However, later, she couldn’t get herself to respond to his hands or mouth, made a half-hearted excuse and so they went to bed rather irritated on both sides. Hermione had a hard time feeling bad, even when Draco’s last words before finally falling asleep were “I don’t care if we have sex once a day or once a month, I’d just wish you’d be honest with me”.

When sleep wouldn’t come, Hermione finally made a decision. She slipped out from under the heavy blanket, made sure Draco was still fully covered and tip-toed out of the room.

Astoria looked ethereal in her white dress, sitting on a stone bench, surrounded by masses of snow and framed by little red specks – winterberries. This time, she full acknowledged Hermione but did not speak once again.

I must not be jealous of a dead woman, Hermione had told herself all over all evening and yet here she was, feeling both jealous and nervous in front of a painting.

“Good evening, Astoria.”

“Hello, Hermione. What brings you here?”

Astoria’s tone was levelled and Hermione was even more jealous that the woman in front of her seemed so capable of perfect containment when necessary. During her time in office, she had frequently been criticised for being too emotional. (Too emotional – hah. Hermione usually had gotten angry, linking this label to her femininity and lecturing an overwhelmed Ron about the relationship between emotions and gender. He had trouble understanding. Draco had been with her from the first second – he was now avidly reading de Beauvoir).

“I uhm–“, Hermione began, scolding herself for thinking about jealousy when walking to the portrait instead of coming up with a sensitive question.

“Do you want to know how to please Draco best? I have a few–“

“What? No!”

Hermione had been shouting and now listened carefully for Draco down the hallway, cursing herself mentally for being so clumsy. Nothing happened. Relieved, she looked back up at Astoria who now seemed rather amused.

“I … I’m sorry, this might come across as incredibly rude, but”, Hermione took a deep breath, “are you, by any chance, really unhappy that Draco is with me?”

Astoria’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“It’s just…”, again, Hermione had to breathe awkwardly before continuing, “I couldn’t help but notice that you were so lovely when we spoke with Draco, but every time I’m walking past you by myself, you seem … sulking?”

Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly at her own unelaborate phrasing. But before she could correct herself, Astoria had jumped up from her bench (did it look Ancient Greek?) and took a step towards Hermione.

“Hermione, what? I’m so sorry I came across this rude!”

What?

This was surely not what Hermione had expected.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, truly. I should not have jumped to conclusions.”

Come again?

Hermione’s face must have mirrored her confusion because Astoria now awkwardly shuffled strands of long, dark, straight hair out of her face hectically.

“It’s just that –”

Astoria now seemed lost for words as she helplessly flapped her arms and looked around.

“You see”, she began cautiously, “I was never the biggest fan of flowers.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Of course, they’re beautiful et cetera, but I had a ridiculous hay fever that could barely be treated with potions and my green thumb was non-existent. My relationship to flowers is rocky at best. You’re right, I’m sulking. I know Draco loved me dearly and he wanted the best for me, Scorpius, and himself after I passed. Of course, he wanted to have me portrayed as memorable as possible. But all this”, again, she helplessly moved her arms and Hermione now realised that she meant all four versions of herself, all the flowery beauty, the references to goddesses and eternal beauty and wisdom, “that is not the essence of who I was.”

Hermione had felt foolish already, but Astoria’s final statement was too much. “I’m a family person. I would have pictured myself with them, I guess. And I love Draco. I always will and this is why I will never complain to him. When he told me you were with him now, I was unbelievably happy for him. You do him justice, Hermione. You understand him – maybe even better than I ever did. And I let my guard down because I felt this was possible around you. You seemed to be the person I could trust with my exasperation. I just never mentioned it to you, which was very stupid on my part.”

Astoria now shook her head. Hermione was stunned.

“Flower girl, can you believe it?”

Astoria’s bone-dry tone drove Hermione over the edge. She started giggling. Astoria’s initial silence turned into a hearty laugh after a few moments as well and – to Hermione’s surprise and delight – Astoria let out tiny snorts.

“In all honesty though”, Hermione said when they had calmed down, holding her ribs from laughter. “I do see it. The melodrama and all.”

They kept laughing.

“Feel free to sulk”, Hermione added after a few seconds, luring a few snorts from Astoria.

Draco rolled his eyes and closed the door to his bedroom, going back to bed before Hermione realised his feet were cold when she eventually came back. He should have known these two women were a lethal combination.

*

Authors notes:

Hi again!

This one was a lot of fun to write, despite containing very little Draco. It’s been a headcanon of mine for a while that he would glorify Astoria after her death (in a universe where their marriage took place and all, that is) and that Astoria herself would feel some kind of way about it, bonding over it with Hermione. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

Also, the initial premise of this blog was once that I would also happilypublish drabbles written by other authors and that I would take prompts. Just so you know. :)

Finally: HELLO to all my new followers! This almost vacant account (revived after six years!) grew by ca. 25% after only one post last week (and this post also became the most successful one to date). Thank you all so much and what a pleasure to have you. I also have a multifandom-blog where I usually am which you can find under @ahoidraco if you’re interested. 

Until next time!

#dramione #dhrtag #dhrdrabble #dhrdrabbles #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #astoria malfoy

[givelove-always]

A Holiday Miracle

A/N: Hi! Here’s my fic for @saintlymendes​’ holiday fic exchange. I know I’m like four days late (I’m sowwyyyy) but it’s here now! I hope you like it Cas, happy holidays! 💞

Summary: Cas (@serendipitousshawn​) and Shawn have their own little holiday miracle as they’re doing some last-minute shopping.

Warning(s): None, just a lot of fluff :)

Word Count: 1.3k words

“Alright, candles - check, wrapping paper - check,” Cas walked through the store, double-checking her list to make sure she’d picked up everything she needed before she went to checkout. The last thing she needed to do on one of the busiest weekends of the year was to wait ten minutes in line to checkout her items, only to realize at the very last moment that she forgot an item or two. “Ornaments, che-” she stopped in her tracks, lightly smacking her forehead, “I forgot the ornaments!”

After quickly asking a store employee where she could find them, Cas made her way to the section that held the beautiful decorative pieces. She smiled at the few people she made eye contact with. Christmas had that effect on people - no matter how her own day had been, and no matter how grumpy the other person looked, the moment their eyes would meet, a soft smile would appear on their faces, as if out of instinct. It was nothing short of magical.

As Cas scanned the aisles, a certain box of ornaments caught her eye. She let out a little gasp as the beautiful golden glitter-covered objects shimmered underneath the artificial store lights. She made her way towards the box, but as she reached out to grab it, the realization hit her - she was too short. “Dammit,” she muttered under her breath as she tried to stretch on her tiptoes to reach the box, but to no avail.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” she heard a voice say and saw a hand pick the box up off the shelf, reaching it out towards her.

“Thank you so much! I really-” she froze mid-sentence. 

Cas had had her eyes fixated on the box up until that point - it had been the most important thing in the world in that moment. But as soon as she looked into those pools of honey, time physically stopped. The hustle and bustle of everyone around her slowed, the chatter of the little children in the nearby kids section quietened, and the lights seemed to dim everywhere except on the two of them. Shawn freaking Mendes was standing right in front of her.

Was this one of those holiday miracles she’d always read about?

Before she could say anything else though, the beautiful tall man smiled at her, and any words that she intended on saying went right down the drain. She felt her heart skip a beat, and as much as she wanted to converse with him, her tongue tied and betrayed her.

And so Cas stood there, her mouth just sort of opening and shutting with no words coming out, just gawking at quite possibly the most beautiful human specimen she had seen in her entire life. And she watched as he let out a little chuckle and walked away after saying a quick “no problem.”

She let out a little groan once he was out of sight and she had snapped back into reality. I can’t believe I missed my shot with the most breathtaking man to ever walk the planet, she thought to herself. Why can’t I not be awkward for literally thirty seconds? She shook her head at herself in disappointment, continuing to walk around the store for a little while longer, hoping desperately to bump into the tall brown-haired boy again.

Alas, all to no avail.

When she’d walked past the same ornament aisle she’d met him in for the fifth time, Cas decided it was enough. She’d missed her chance, and it was time to leave and get over him. It probably wasn’t meant to be, right?

Sighing, she got into the extremely long line at the cash register.

“Looks like this is going to take forever today, doesn’t it?” she heard a familiar voice say from behind her.

She turned around to look at the source of the voice, and it was him. The same, beautiful boy from the ornament aisle.

“Yeah. Serves us right for leaving all the holiday shopping until the very last minute though,” she joked, determined not to mess things up this time.

“Oh I’m not complaining one bit though,” he smirked. “I got to help a beautiful girl get something she wasn’t able to reach, and now I get to talk to her all the while that we’re waiting in line? Can’t say that my day’s been bad at all.”

Cas blushed, letting out a little giggle at his words.

“I’m Shawn by the way,” he said, extending his hand out for her to shake.

“I know, I love your music,” she said as she shook his hand, trying to contain her inner fangirl. “I’m Cas, it’s super nice to meet you! Thank you so much for your help back there by the way. It was such a pretty box, I just knew I had to get it! My height had other plans in store though,” she laughed.

“Not a problem at all Cas. In fact, I’m kinda glad you’re short - we probably wouldn’t have met if you’d been able to get that box yourself,” he said with a soft smile.

Shawn and Cas continued to make conversation as they waited, getting to know each other a little better. She told him about her endeavors as a student, and he told her about some of the very many adventures he had as he traveled all across the world. She stared with a smile as his eyes lit up when talking about touring and making music, the passion seeping through him as positive energy Cas couldn’t get nearly enough of.

“It’s my turn soon, I guess this is goodbye then?” Cas asked, the slight dejection of the fact that it was all coming to an end soon showing through her eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be though, honey,” Shawn replied. “I’d love to take you out sometime, I’ve really enjoyed talking to you.”

Cas’ eyes went wide. Was the Shawn Mendes asking her out on a date?

“I-I mean, only if you’re okay with it. You don’t have to, no pressure at all, it’s-”

“I’d love to Shawn,” Cas cut off his rambling, giving him a shy smile.

“Okay,” he blushed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Can I get your number please? So I can contact you?” He mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Yeah, no kidding Sherlock, what else would you want her number for? he thought.

She didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, if the giddy grin on her face was anything to go by, one would think that she found his nervousness absolutely adorable. She entered her number into his phone and handed it back to him.

“I’ll see you soon Shawn,” she said as she waved at him and walked up to the counter.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One date turned into two, which turned into three, into four, and here they were now. Two years later, snuggled up into each other in front of the warm fireplace.

“Why’d you let me eat so many cookies Shawn, my tummy feels funky now,” Cas whined, curling up further into his chest.

Shawn let out a loud chuckle. “Honey, I tried to stop you, but you started making that pouty face you know I can’t ever say no to.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hold back the smile she knew was starting to overtake her features. “Well just stay here and cuddle me forever and ever then,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way baby,” he said, pulling her closer.

Meeting each other in that aisle that day and then ending up right next to each other in the checkout line was the most wonderful thing to have happened to either of them. It was safe to say that it left both of them confident in the fact that Christmas miracles aren’t just a Hallmark movie cliché.

#saintlymendessecretsanta #shawn #mendes #shawn mendes #shawnmendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn blurb #shawn mendes blurb #shawn imagine #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn x reader #shawn mendes x reader #shawn x y/n #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn fluff #shawn mendes fluff #fluff #my writing