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chocolateheart · 3 years

Text

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ��hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

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ladylobotomyy · 3 years

Text

Confessions - To Hell and Back

Hi so a lot of people like this series, thank you for the support, it really makes me smile. If you have any suggestions/requests or want me to write a specific idea then feel free to ask, my dms and asks are open, but for now here’s part 7! PLEASE give me some suggestions of what you want to see! This series spans across the ending of season 4 if it wasn’t already clear enough.

Plot: After kissing Spencer, Y/n tried to go back to work like nothing happened, but after a bad case Spencer is determined to talk to her about what happened. This results in a bigger confession than she was expecting.

☾

Y/n sighed, her fingertips finding the end of her umbrella, pulling it harshly out of her bag. “This couldn’t wait till tomorrow, Spencer?” Her eyes were sore, the blue light from her computer had made her eyelids heavy. Spencer rocked back and forward on his heels, raising his eyebrows, “I don’t think I can wait that long.” Guilt flooded her system as Y/n took in Spencer, his hair was damp, most likely due to the mist coming from the rain. His shoes were soaked, the rain having flooded the sidewalk, his feet had been sitting in a puddle. He shivered, a stray hair falling forward onto his forehead as he leaned closer.

“Christ, how long have you been out here? It’s freezing,” Y/n called over the rain, a crooked smile replaced the frown on his features as he looked to the ground, “Just an hour or two, not long.” He’d been so determined to talk to her that he’d sat in the middle of a storm, he deserved an explanation, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. A scowl took over Y/n’s face, “Why didn’t you wait till tomorrow? It’s been thundering, Spence-“ she started, but he was already trying to put her mind at ease. “Lightning is one of the leading causes of weather-related fatalities. But the odds of being struck by lightning in a given year are only around 1 in 500,000. I’d have way more of a chance of getting in a car crash on the way home, so staying here wasn’t all that bad of an idea,” he rambled.

Spencer took note of the mock smile Y/n made, placing her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. “And since when have you ever taken the safe choice ‘Mr. Walk right into a bomb threat without a gun.’” He lifted his hands up defensively, “That was one time! Besides, at least I don’t run into burning houses-”

“You were right behind me at Milton’s,” she accused. “That doesn’t count!” He laughed, “I only ran in because you ran in first,” he countered. She paused for a moment, trying to think of how to get out of that one before giving in, “Touché. But that doesn’t change the fact that the rain was a poor excuse, you’ve driven home plenty of times before in a storm.” Spencer’s hand flexed in anticipation, anxiety starting to spread. He’d known he wanted to talk to her about things, but now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. “I- I just wanted to talk to you,” he settled on. “About what?” She asked, feigning ignorance, panicked eyes shooting at her car. I wonder if I could make a break for it. Surely this could wait till tomorrow, he probably wouldn’t be too mad. He interrupted her thought process, taking a step towards her, “Y/n, please. I’m trying my hardest.” Defeat set in, she looked back up at him, “Fine, what do you want to know?”

☾

FOUR DAYS AGO

Spencer had just stumbled down the steps of Y/n's apartment when the thought occurred to him. He let his imagination take control, pausing in front of the doors leading out to the street. He envisioned himself walking back up the stairs, knocking on her door, telling her how he felt. What would he even say? I love you? It’d be wrong to tell her now, to give her more to worry about. But would there ever be a right time? It’d already been three years. But did she mean it when she said she’d wanted him? Disappointment seeped in when he reminded himself that she was hurting, that she needed to feel close to someone right now, to feel held. He’d almost turned around, thinking he could be that person for her right now, even if she didn’t actually want him, even if it’d hurt him when he had to eventually let her go. It’d be taking advantage of her. She doesn’t know what she wants right now, she’s in too much pain. And with that, he pushed the door open and walked into the busy street, stifling down the truth.

And the truth was, he was in love with everything about her. The notes she wrote in the margins of her books, with the victory dance she did when she won a game of chess, although he could never tell her that he’d sabotaged himself each time just to see her eyes light up. He loved the way her nose crinkled when she was sleeping, with the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she wanted a closer look at something. He’d fallen in love with her need for a hug after a thunderstorm, and he’d never quite gotten his heart to slow down every time she grabbed onto his arm for support when the elevator dropped.

He’d spent two days fighting the urge to drop by, two days picking the phone up to see how she was, only to press it back into the receiver. Two days at home, hoping the phone would ring with a case to take his mind off of her. Off of the way her lips felt, the way her breath danced on his skin when she kissed down his neck. He’d watched documentaries, read books, anything to cope, but nothing could stop his mind from wandering to the look of pain in her face when he’d stopped her. Every time he’d started a sentence on a page he saw her lips trembling as she fought back tears at his rejection.

Relief flooded his senses when his phone rang in the early hours of the morning on Monday, JJ calling in another case. He’d noticed the way Morgan seemed unfocused at his desk when he’d walked into the BAU headquarters and he’d made a mental note to ask him if everything was okay later in the day. He’d even picked up on the apprehensive look in JJ‘s eyes when she’d called them in for a meeting on the case. But nothing could’ve prepared him for Y/n’s presence in the boardroom that morning, at her being back so soon.

He’d had four days in total to work out what he was going to say to her. To work out what question he would ask first. He’d had the last hour and a half outside on the bench to brainstorm on this conversation, so why was his mind empty now?

“I’m sorry if I offended you when- well, you know already but it was never my intention to hurt you, or keep reminding you of-” She cut him off mid sentence, “Spencer, you didn’t hurt me.”

Confusion was evident on his face as he stared back at her, his mouth agape. She decided to explain further, “I was the one who was in the wrong, not you. I jumped your bones,” she chuckled nervously, “you had every right to reject me.” Her eyes now darted everywhere but in the direction of him as uncomfort built up, but she continued on, “I was unprofessional, and a bad friend to put you in a position like that. To jeopardize our friendship, and I’m sorry.”

He couldn't find his voice for a moment, flashes of that night sparking in his head, but nowhere in that night could he find a reason for her to be apologizing right now. “Every right to reject you?” He whispered under his breath in disbelief, “Y/n, you shouldn’t be apologizing. You did nothing wrong. I had the chance to stop it and I let it go too far, that doesn’t fall on you. You weren’t in your right mind.” He argued.

“Spencer, I was in more of my right mind than I’ve ever been, I knew what I was doing could ruin our friendship and I did it anyway. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for snapping at you in the staircase, I’m sorry for refusing to have this conversation. I just didn’t want to lose my best friend.” Her shoulders slumped forward, turning away from him, trying to keep the tears back.

“You could never lose me,” Spencer started, “I’ll always be your best friend. I’ll always be here,” he reassured, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

☾

They were in the middle of discussing how determined she must have been to get on an elevator to avoid speaking to him when a gust of wind blew her hair behind her, her eyebrows rose at the change in the air. Spencer noted this too, turning to look at the heavy downpour before turning back to face her. The rain had let up a tiny bit, the thunder had subsided and lightning couldn’t be seen anymore. Although it was still raining pretty hard, this was the lightest it was going to get. “This is probably your best chance,” he called over the noise. She nodded, staring out into the night, she was already dreading the unnerving ride home. But maybe it was worth the miserable drive with how surprisingly well this dreaded conversation had gone by. “I’m sorry, again. Thank you, Spencer.” She responded, meeting his eyes as she undid her umbrella. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Be careful, Y/n,” he said, as she lifted the umbrella over her head, a soft, “Always,” being heard as she took her first step into the storm.

She was a quarter through the parking lot when he heard her voice echo in his head, ”I was in more of my right mind than I've ever been.” Hope ignited in his heart, his head turning back to her silhouette, he’d missed one question. Will there ever be a right time? He couldn’t stop himself, he had to know.

She spun quickly at the sound of her name, meeting Spencer’s eyes across the lot, but he didn’t respond when she turned. Instead he gulped, and dropped his satchel on the ground, “W-was it real?” He yelled. Her eyebrow popped up, “Was what real?” She yelled back, wishing he would hurry so she could be in the proximity of her car’s heaters.

He hesitated before taking a step forward into the rain, “The kiss. Was it real?” Heat flowed into her cheeks, she thought she’d gotten off easy, but here she was, surprised by the question and unsure of what to say. Water bounced off the sides of his face. Debating lying to keep the awkwardness to a minimum, she finally settled on the truth. “Yes.” That was all the confidence boost he needed. Better now than never, he thought, starting towards her.

She hadn’t registered the feeling of his lips on hers until the umbrella fell from her fingertips, hitting the concrete behind her. Time stopped when his hands cupped the sides of her face as cold droplets hit her skin, but she couldn’t feel the rain as her hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Her heart beat impossibly fast under his hand. He let his hands fall, wrapping one arm around the small of her back, his other sliding into her hair, gathering at the nape of her neck. Warmth spread down her body, electric shocks sending through her blood. She couldn’t form a coherent thought as his lips moved against her own, until her body was fighting for a breath of air.

She let her forehead rest against his when he pulled back from the kiss, both catching their breath. She couldn’t open her eyes for a few seconds afterward, desperate to hold onto the moment. She was thankful for the downfall as a tear slid down her cheek, her breath hitching in her throat before she pulled back to look at him. His shirt was soaked through, his hair just as wet, streams of water raced down his face as he looked at her.

She was the first to speak. “My last intention was to make you feel guilty.” Her head leveled at the ground now in shame.

It took Spencer a moment to process her words, “Is that what you think?” He asked, incredulously, his voice hoarse.

“I don't want you to think you owe me for that night-”

He knew it was rude but he was cutting her off again, “Is that what you’re worried about?” He took her lack of a response as his answer; all hesitation was gone as he hooked his finger underneath her chin, pulling her up to look at him. “That I didn't enjoy myself? Y/n, that night was the best night of my existence.”

Her cheeks flushed once again as her eyes widened, “What?” She let out, feeling his hands slowly entwine with her own.

Spencer fumbled for the right words, “I’m in love with you.” Her mouth popped open, “What did you just say?” She breathed out.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeated, running a thumb over her lips. “I’ve ignored it since the day you walked into the BAU. But I've been in love with you from the start. Since you got me coffee on your first day,” He grinned at the memory, “Since you got me tickets to that museum your third week here,” he paused, more self aware now. “I have been head over heels, irrevocably in love with you for the past three years.” He felt he might explode with the rapid thumping in his chest.

Tears once again stung her eyes as she took a step toward him. “You don't know how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words,” she said before crashing her lips back into his, he smiled into the kiss.

Lightning lit up the sky as thunder boomed above them. Spencer was wholly content until he felt Y/n’s body in his arms jump at the sound. He squinted, looking up at the sky, “Do you think there’s any way I could find a cab this late at night?” Y/n laughed in response, shaking her head, picking up her umbrella off the ground as she walked toward her car. “Get in,” she gestured to the passenger side door, rolling her eyes.

Her body was freezing as she blasted the warm air when he climbed in. “You can stay at my place tonight, I don’t feel like driving all the way back home by myself in this weather,” she explained, peeling her wet sweater off, throwing it into the back seat. “I like that idea,” Spencer smiled. “Maybe we can even play a couple games of chess before I pass out,” she suggested, pulling out of the parking lot. Spencer’s smile spread even wider, “I adore you.”

okay that’s part 7, and as always, i hope it didn’t disappoint. and if it did then, as always, that's chill too. i tried my hardest with this one, i stayed up till 4 am writing it, so hopefully y’all think this is okay. and yes, i borrowed a line from twilight. but it was only one, and it seemed fitting lol. i tagged everyone who wanted to see more parts. thank yall so much for the kind words!! and again if you have any suggestions or recommendations just ask, and if you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics, let me know! And if you want me to stop tagging you then let me know that too lol. And again, please give me some recs, whether you want an imagine, a blurb, whatever. have a beautiful day loves :)

@deslovely

@doctorspenceryeet

@anarchy-n-glitter

@shelikesloki

@reidselle

@ashwarren32

@reidsbookclub

@candlesandsoftrain

@mrsobrien888

Part 6

Part 8

Masterlist

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fangirlfics · 3 years

Text

Trouble Sleeping (Loki x reader)

I swear if this deletes for a third time Im gonna cry

KINDA A SLOW BURN BOIS

also I didn’t finish reading it over for mistakes bc I’m lazy

summary: y/n and Loki used to be very close friends and sometimes when she had bad nightmares he’d use his magic to calm her mind, a few years have passed and they’ve grown apart. Her nightmares come back and hesitantly she seeks Loki’s help again

word count: 3,592 wahahahaha

y/n leaned over one of the balconies that overlooked the kingdom’s private garden. The weather was perfect, the temperature ideal, sky blue, and the plants were all thriving feet below her. Despite the scenery however y/n’s attention was fixated elsewhere.

Down in the depths of the garden, propped up on one of the fancy golden benches was the youngest Asgardian prince-Loki. His dark raven hair was combed back as he turned to the next page in his novel, the cover matching the shade of green displayed on his clothes. y/n couldn’t help but sigh as she watched the handsome prince, they had once had an unbreakable bond. It was always Loki and y/n-best friends, one wouldn’t be seen without the other. But somewhere among their late teenage years, Loki had become more cold and distant towards y/n-leaving her alone in the giant halls of the castle to wander alone. That’s when her and Thor’s relationship grew stronger-she had always been friends with the God of Thunder but after her and Loki’s relationship crumbled to pieces he was there to cheer her up.

“Oh there you are!” Thor’s voice boomed-pulling y/n from her daydream. y/n glanced once more at Loki before turning her attention to her tall friend. “I was looking for you!” He beamed.

“What can I do for you, your highness?” y/n asked with a playful voice.

Thor smiled, putting his hands together before continuing, “I was hoping that you would join me and-” his words faded as he glanced down to the gardens and caught sight of Loki. y/n’s attention soon turned to the railing in front of her as she traced her fingers along it’s smooth surface. “You still watch him.” Thor told her, his normally enthusiastic voice was now dry and serious. “How long have you been thinking of him?”

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, playing with her fingers. “I never stopped.” She confessed, “I know it’s foolish but I can’t help it, I..miss him more than I can even begin to explain.”

Thor was silent as he watched the girl glance back down at the gardens then to the sky. “Let’s go...horseback riding.” He suggested, getting y/n attention. “To lift your spirits, we can go with Sif a-”

“No.“ y/n blurted out, “nobody else-I don’t want to embarrass myself again by falling off my horse.“

Thor chuckled, “nobody is going to think low of you-” he looked at y/n once more sensing her silent plea ”very well then, just us.” He agreed, making her smile.

“Thank you.” She laughed, giving him a hug. It caught Thor by surprise but he then loosely wrapped his arms around y/n in return. “Thank you for everything,” y/n whispered, “really, I don’t know what’d I’d do without you. I’m blessed to have a friend like you.”

“Of course.”

Neither of the two friends noticed that down in the gardens Loki clenched his jaw, snapping his book shut and silently retreated to his room-they also didn’t notice the pair of blue eyes staring through the window at them, when they returned laughing on horseback.

_____________________________________________________________

There was fire everywhere, thick black smoke made it impossible for her to breath. She was choking-desperate for air. She fell to the ground as the fire closed in quickly-it’s heat trapping her in the room. There was no hope, no help was coming and it was impossible to escape, with a loud crack the ceiling caved in leaving her trapped screaming out as the furious flames burned her alive.

y/n woke up with a start, beads of sweat lined her forehead although her room was cool and she found that her hands were shaking. Realizing it was just a dream she lied back down, covering her face with her hands as she tried desperately to fall back asleep. She got no more sleep that night.

The same thing happened again in the coming days and three days later while in training, y/n who was running on less than four hours of sleep was doing rather well. In one quick movement she jumped up-kicking the sword right out of Fandral’s grip.

“Very good!” Volstagg commented from across the room.

“Yes.” Fandral agreed, “show me that move and I’ll show you some of mine.” He winked.

“Just give me a time and place.” y/n responded playfully, earning a laugh.

“Impressive.” Fandral commented at her response. (she normally responded to his joke flirting with an eye roll)

“Yes impressive.” Loki commented from behind Fandral. “That y/n can apparently chase after two men at once.” He said this while staring casually at Thor. Sif went stiff inder the tension and Thor opened his mouth but y/n spoke first.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well by the looks of it, you can’t seem to decide between Thor and-”

“Brother that’s enough.” Thor warned, taking a step forward.

“I’m just putting out a warning, you do know what they say about these sort of things.” Loki remarked, not meeting her eyes.

“You know full well that I am not chasing after anyone.” y/n said, growing aggravated.

“It sure seems that way.”He then opened the door to the room and left.

“You know what?” y/n responded, dropping her sword to the ground with a loud clang “I am tired of this.”

“y/n I think it best if you ignore him.” Sif spoke up, “nobody is accusing you of anything, we all know you aren’t that sort of person-”

“Thank you Sif, but I am not taking this.“ y/n exited the room in pursuit of Loki, who was a few paces ahead of her walking calmly.

“I don’t like being followed.“ He simply called out to her, because his room was only about a minute walk away from the training room he reached it fairly quickly.

“What is your problem?“ y/n asked him, putting her foot in between the door and it’s frame as Loki was about to shut it.

“I don’t have a problem, now if you’d excuse me I’d like you to leave me alone.“

“Then leave me alone.” She huffed, “hold your silvertongue and stop acting as if you’re above me because you’re not.”

“Is that all?“ He asked her calmly, “you’re done with your childish tantrum?”

“Oh you are so-“ y/n narrowed her eyes.

“So what?“ Loki asked with an eye roll.

“Terrible.“ y/n blurted, earning a cold laugh from the God of Mischief.

“So I’ve been told.“ He stated bored.

“No, I mean you’re really terrible and for so many reasons.”

“Such as?“

“You want a list?“ y/n asked with a bitter laugh, “ok well you think you’re better than everyone and you’re not, you poke fun at other people because it’s amusing to you and-and everyone-I mean everyone thinks that you’re a snake, ever since we were younger, and I can’t believe I’m just now realizing that..they’re probably right.“ He swallowed hard furrowing his eyebrows, “you used to be my best friend Loki, I’d defend you from people’s accusations when you weren’t around and..I wasted my time because you are everything people say you are and worst.“ She saw the look in his eye, she hurt him-good now he understood how it felt.

Loki glanced away-looking down at the girl again. “Is that all?” He asked, trying desperately to remain collected. y/n scoffed. “You may think you know me but I know you much more, don’t forget, I’ve been inside your head. People may think I’m a bad person but I can live with that, you on the other hand can’t stand the fact that someone might not like you, so much so that you’ll break down about it. You’re a weak fighter, you’re not as clever or as witty as you seem to think, and frankly I don’t understand the fascination Thor seems to have with you, you’re nothing special.”

y/n pulled her foot from the doorway. What happened to us? She was about to cry and she did not want him seeing that. “Is that all?” She asked, reciting his previous question.

“Yes.“ He spat coldly.

“Good.“ She turned to walk away as Loki stayed in his place trying to keep the impression that he didn’t care.

Late at night y/n tossed and turned in her bed, trying to fall asleep after waking up from a particularly realistic dream-she had thought that by laying still she’d trick her body into falling asleep but that didn’t happen. She knew that she had been able to power through the last few days with almost no sleep-but she’d certainly crash if she didn’t get any sleep soon. The thought of making a visit to Loki for help came to her mind, but she really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she wanted/needed his help. Screw it. She thought after another couple of hours, her clock read 2:35 as she swung her legs over her bed and slipped on her slippers and robe.

The halls were dark and empty except for the occasional guards, which she was careful to avoid (she didn’t want to raise any suspicion). Thank God her room was only a three minute walk from Loki’s. It was once she was already in front of Loki’s door that she started getting second thoughts, but she was there already and the worst that could happen was getting the door slammed in her face or no answer. She raised her cold knuckle, letting it hover over the door’s fine wood before knocking. “It’s y/n..” She announced barely above a whisper, “trust me I really don’t want to ask for your help but I see no other option an-”

The door opened a small crack. “you do realize what time it is, right?” Loki’s annoyed voice asked-he didn’t sound like he had just woken up, maybe he was having trouble sleeping also.

“I know.” At her response Loki opened the door wider, revealing himself in a pair of emerald colored pajamas. “Look I know-” at the sound of approaching footsteps (guards) Loki stepped aside, giving her a cue to get in. She did, turning to face him one he closed the door again-his back facing the door he put his hands on his hips.

“What do you want?”

“I can’t sleep.” She said sheepishly, “I just-I’m getting the same nightmares again and I thought that maybe just this once you could, you know..” She put hands up, wiggling her fingers to imitate magic.

Loki rolled his eyes, “first off that’s not at all how magic looks, second why should I help you?”

“Just this once!“ y/n practically begged, “please. I’ve have not been sleeping at all I just need one hour. I won’t make you sleep on my couch like I did when we were younger, you can just...alter my thoughts or something and I’ll leave and-”

“Fine.“ Loki agreed, grumpily. He walked back over to his bed, getting in between the covers on the left side. “Well?“ He asked when she stared blankly at him. He rolled his eyes again, “Obviously if you go back to your room I won’t be able to sense when I have to alter your thoughts and you’ll just come back to make a racket when you have another nightmare.“ y/n nodded slowly, making her way to the right side of the bed. “Besides it’s a big bed, just stay on that side-away from me.” She laid down, hesitant at first as she tightened her robe around herself. Loki leaned over, placing a finger and thumb over her temples to enter her mind.

When she woke up she was in the same exact position that she was in when she went to bed and Loki was standing directly above her looking annoyed once again. It was still dark outside as he looked down at her from where he stood. “It’s about time, I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last two minutes.”

“What time is it?“

“6:05..the castles about to start waking up, you should leave before more people get uo to avoid being seen.“ y/n nodded in agreement.

“Ok“ she walked to his door, turning to watch as he laid back down in his bed. “And Loki..“

“What?“ He sighed.

“Thank you.“ She said softly, leaving the room right after. Loki was left surprised.

“Look I know I said just once-” y/n whispered that night outside of Loki’s door, it was past 2 a.m. again, but surprisingly Loki let her in again.

“The faster you stop pestering me, the better.“ Loki told her harshly. He had woken her up at 6 a.m. again like he had done the the last time. The time after that Loki woke her up at 7 and the time after that she had woken up past 8 to see Loki sitting in a chair some feet from her sharpening his knives-when she had asked him why he hadn’t woken her up he had simply reminded that he could just teleport her back to her room, that way nobody would know she had spent the night there.

Flash forward a month later, y/n tiptoed to Loki’s room in her nightgown again, the nights were getting hotter which had led to her to leave her robe behind. When she had reached Loki’s room she didn’t need to knock, since he now left it unlocked for her.

Once she laid down on the right side of the bed (more towards the middle now rather than all the way on the edge) Loki laid down about a foot from her. They didn’t go to bed right then however, since they had formed a habit of talking before falling asleep. “Have you been sleeping better?” Loki asked the girl beside him.

“yes.”

“Good...”

y/n rolled onto her side to face Loki, “Thank you again.” He nodded. “You know for someone who hates me, you’re actually quite kind to me.” The corner of Loki’s mouth folded up slightly,

“I don’t hate you...” He rolled over onto his side to face her, “but what I do hate-“ he then had explained the entire plot of a book just to express his hatred for one detail in it.

y/n woke up in the middle of the night with a start, her nightmares had came back. As it turned out Loki wasn’t in the room but when he got back with a glass of water he noticed she was off right away. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized, sitting beside her, “I was just-I didn’t think-”

“I know, it’s fine.“ y/n told him, but his hand was still on her shoulder and his blue eyes still held worry in them. “I’m just-I’m going back to bed...“ Loki nodded, watching as she laid down again.

“Are you sure you’re alright?“ She nodded.

As she began drifting off she felt Loki take her hand in his. Later on in the night y/n woke up randomly, but she wasn’t facing Loki anymore-instead she was facing his dim window, she felt warm but not from the covers and to her surprise she realized that the prince’s arm was around her waist, keeping her close. Their legs were tangled mess at the bottom of the bed and she could hear his slow breathing as he slept peacefully. She looked around slowly, trying to figure out a way to move away to avoid the embarrassment when he wakes up-but just as she began to shift around she heard him speak up. “What time is it?” up.

“Sorry...” She apologized growing red, “I don’t know how-“

“It’s fine.“ She heard Loki whisper.

“It is?“

“This is quite comfortable.“ He whispered again, then he moved slightly closer-resting his head on her shoulder and he fell asleep again-she assumed that he was half awake and didn’t fully process what had happened. She decided it didn’t matter and fell asleep again, after all he wasn’t wrong-it was comfortable.

There was a loud noise that woke y/n right up, making her jump. Now she realized that she was facing Loki again, her arms were wrapped around his neck like in a hug, his head was nuzzled in the crook of her neck-their legs still a tangled mess. Bang! Bang! There it was again, she lifted her head, looking towards the door as it came again-bang! Bang!

“Loki” She whispered, gently shaking his sleeping form. He ignored it, pulling her closer in response instead. “Loki, someone’s at the door.” She whispered, trying not to laugh. He sighed looking up towards his door.

“Just ignore it, they’ll go away it’s probably a servant or-”

“Loki!” Thor’s voice came from the other side of the door, “Loki, I know you’re in there! Open the door.” Loki rolled his eyes, standing up to make his way towards the door.

He opened the door a few inches, “what do you want?” He hissed.

“I-” Thor paused, “are wearing your nightwear?”

“Why is that of any importance-what do you want?”

“er, Loki is there someone in there with you?“ Thor asked.

y/n held her breath, afraid that somehow Thor would hear her from the doorway. “I-no!” Loki snapped, “What are you talking about?”

“Alright, alright I apologize. I’m here to ask if you have seen y/n? I’ve been searching for her, she’s normally turned up somewhere at this time it’s past 10.”

“No I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen her. Check the garden, she’s most likely wandering around there.“ He shut the door, turning back to y/n.

“Past 10?“ y/n asked, covering her mouth, “I should’ve been awake two hours ago.” Loki shrugged. “Can you teleport me back to my room, I should go to the gardens since Thor’s looking for me.” Loki looked at the ground with an unfamiliar look in his eyes before nodding. “Thank you.”

The girl had spent more time with Thor training than she had expected that day, leading her to take an extra long shower at night to get clean. She hadn’t realized until she looked at her clock that it was past 10-normally she’d already be at Loki’s room by now. Quickly she dried her hair and changed into her nightwear.

She was about to leave and opened her door and unexpectedly Loki was there with his hand raised looking like he was about to knock. They stared at each other for a moment before she spoke up, “Loki? What are you doing here?”

He glanced to the side, not wanting to meet here eyes as she awaited his response, “I thought..” he said glancing at the ground before back to her, regaining his composure “that you-“

“Weren’t coming?“ She finished for him, he nodded.

“So I came to see if you were ok, I’ll leave.“

“Wait, no.“ She told him, grabbing his wrist and taking him by surprise, “I was just coming it was just taking me longer, but you can sleep here if you want since you’re already here...?” He nodded in agreement, stepping into her room.

He settled himself into the bed, opening his arms for her to crawl into which she quickly did. The two laid there for a moment, listening to the quietness as Loki slowly brushed through her hair with his fingers.

“remember the other day when I said that you were terrible?“ y/n suddenly asked, getting Loki’s attention. He stopped running his fingers through her hair.

“Yes, why do you ask?“ He responded cautiously.

“I was just mad at you. I’m sorry.“

He took a moment to think to himself, “I didn’t mean what I said either."

“Can I ask you something?” y/n asked after a while later.

“What?”

“Why did you push me away?” She asked, shifting herself to meet his eyes.

Loki sighed-only it wasn’t from being aggravated this time. He backed up a few inches from y/n-staring straight up at the ceiling. “It’s because..”

“Because what?”

“I had noticed that you and Thor were becoming closer and decided to..abandon you before you did me. I thought it’d hurt less that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, everyone always seems to choose Thor over me, I just assumed you would, in time, do the same.“ He confessed, still not meeting her gaze.

“Loki...“ she set her hand on his shoulder waiting for him to look at her. “I would never abandon you for Thor, sure Thor is my friend but so is Fandral, so is Volstagg, so is Sif and I’m not abandoning anyone for them.“

He nodded.

“And tonight..“ y/n spoke up again, “when you thought I wasn’t coming-“

“I assumed you wouldn’t need me anymore, especially after you had spent so much time with Thor.“

“Loki!“

“What?“

“Don’t be like that!“ y/n told him, sitting up, “I do need you! I’ll always need you, I need you don’ t doubt that, and not just because of stupid nightmares, because I care for you and I love you, ok?”

Loki smiled to himself, “you love me?“

“Yes you stupid-“ she stopped talking because Loki had leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, taking no time to hesitate she leaned into him further deepening the kiss. After about a minute they pulled apart-resting their foreheads together.

“I love you too.“

#loki #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki fanfic #marvel fanfic #reader insert #marvel reader insert

142 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

I just reread that one thing you wrote where Kasey found out Remus wasn't innocent by accidentally reading the message, and now I need the rest of the team finding out that Remus is the kinky one and Sirius just grinning so fucking smugly cos out of all the players, he's the one that gets the kinky fiancé (like Kasey said at the end of the thing) 😂🥰💙

Valentine’s Day Part 2! This is the follow-up to the spicy Coops from earlier--hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for hickeys, friendly chirping, and implied smut on many accounts

Sirius had never dreaded going to practice more. He could hardly sit down, and the hickeys that freckled his body and ringed his thighs showed no sign of going away anytime soon. Part of him—a very, very, very small part—wished Remus had gone a little easier, but the rest of him still got a thrill of excitement whenever he saw the marks.

The locker room was quiet when they entered; Sirius tried to hide his slight limp, but he noticed Logan’s wince as he bent to grab his bag off the floor. Kasey lowered himself onto his bench with a slow breath, and even James fiddled with the edge of his shirt instead of pulling it off.

“Loops, you seem to be in good shape,” Finn said with a half-laugh. Remus cleared his throat and, sighing, pulled his shirt off. There was a low whistle. “Damn. Never mind. I guess you’ll be breaking out the turtlenecks, eh?”

Remus’ courage seemed to reassure the others, and within a few minutes most of the shirts and pants had come off, revealing hickey patterns over just about all of them. The chatter started up again, then went dead silent when Sirius removed his own shirt. Talker snorted. “How’re you feeling, Cap? Do we need to get Loops a mouthguard, or…?”

Sirius shot him a mock-glare as he pulled his pads on and a ripple of quiet snickering washed through the room, then died down as Kasey slid his sweats off his legs and revealed a whole fucking handprint on his thigh. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he huffed. “Haha, very funny.”

Be a good captain, be a good captain, be a good captain—“You’re in good company, Bliz.” He steeled himself and tugged his own pants off, reaching for his under armor and pointedly ignoring the four different jaws that hit the floor.

James leaned over and smacked Remus on the head with his glove. “Dude!”

“Ow! What?”

“Are you trying to eat him alive?” When Remus hesitated, James hit him again. “Bad Loops!”

“Alright, we’re all adults here,” Sirius interrupted. “It was Valentine’s Day, things happened to everyone. Let’s all agree not to speak of what we see in the locker room today, okay?” There were a few murmurs of agreement. “Okay?”

“Yes, Cap,” they chorused.

“Good talk.”

Ten minutes later, Arthur knocked on the doorway and poked his head in. “Hey, guys. It has come to my attention that yesterday was Valentine’s Day, so I wanted to apologize if I interrupted any plans you may have had. That being said, this is a professional team—Potter, what’s on your hip?”

James swallowed hard. “Nothing, Coach.”

“Are you hurt?” Across the room, Leo stifled his laughter in his elbow. “I can call Hestia—”

“It’s, uh, a bite mark,” James said at last, staring at the floor.

Arthur’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“A bite mark. From my wife.” He shrugged his jersey on and grimaced a little. “I thought we would have two days for it to go away.”

Arthur’s eyes flickered around the room and settled on Logan. “Tremblay, you’re favoring your left leg.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“You’re not hurt, either?”

“Nope.”

And then Arthur’s gaze fell on Sirius. “Cap. Your ankle’s not causing that scowl, is it?”

“No, Coach, it’s not.”

Arthur sighed and glanced down at his clipboard. “Holy fuck.”

“Yes, it was,” Dumo said under his breath with a smirk. Both Logan and Sirius turned to him in abject horror.

“Everyone, stand up.” Arthur ran a hand down his face as they all shakily got to their feet; Sirius bit his lip and leaned on the side of his stall for balance. Oh, Lupin, I hope you’re proud of yourself. There was a beat of silence before he shook his head. “Practice is called off, seeing as half of you apparently got laid so good you can’t walk. I expect you to work twice as hard on Monday, alright?”

“Yes, Coach,” they said in unison.

Arthur took a last look at them and a smile twitched at his mouth, then devolved into full-blown chuckling. “Oh, fuck, this is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Good for you, boys. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

They could still hear him laughing as he walked down the hall and immediately began stripping their gear off with sighs of relief. Logan outright groaned as he pulled his sweats back on and Sirius saw Leo’s pupils dilate. “Easy there, Knut,” he teased. Leo made a face. “What, you don’t have a comeback? That’s a first.”

“I’m taking a day off,” Leo rasped.

Finn went vibrant red and Kasey’s eyes got huge. “You good, baby rookie?”

“A-okay.” Leo gave him a thumbs-up and took a long drink of water. “It was worth it.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Remus muttered with a sly grin.

“Oh, you are in no place to talk—”

“At least I can talk!”

“At least he’s got his thighs intact, unlike some people!” James cut in.

Kasey raised his eyebrows. “Should I give Lily a call and ask for details? I’m sure she’s got a real fun story for us.”

“Should I give Nat a call and ask how her hand is doing?” he countered.

“What happened to being adults about this?” Sirius asked as he zipped his bag up. “Because if we’re forgoing that, I’d love to see Logan try and sit down.”

Logan narrowed his eyes and tilted his chin toward Sirius’ legs. “I’m three seconds away from asking how those lines got so crisp. Try me, Cap."

Talker whistled. “Low blow.”

“No, a low blow would be calling my sister and asking if she’s currently at her own apartment,” Logan said smoothly, though he fixed Talker with a look that could curdle milk. “Watch it.”

“It’s times like these that I’m grateful none of you want to know about my sex life,” Dumo said as he stood. “Because last night was—”

“No!” half the locker room shouted at the same time. Packing was quick after that—nobody wanted to stick around any longer than necessary and risk being chirped for their various kink giveaways. Sirius practically broke the speed of sound while he changed back into his cozy pants.

Logan caught up to him just as they were leaving the locker room with a devilish smile. “So, was it garters or thigh highs?” he muttered, keeping his eyes on their respective partners up ahead.

“None of your business, you nosy little shit.”

“I’m guessing thigh highs.”

“And I’ve got several guesses for why Leo can’t get more than three words out, but unlike you, I know how to hold my tongue.”

“Were they comfortable?”

Sirius sighed through his nose. “Very.”

“Hmm. I might have to get some of my own.”

He actually laughed aloud at that—Remus and Finn glanced back, confused. “You’re already having trouble walking, mon frère. Let’s not make it worse on you.”

“Hey!” Logan jogged a bit to keep up as Sirius increased his pace, both wincing a little. “I would look fucking incredible!”

“Not as good as I did.”

“What are we talking about?” Leo asked, falling back to join the conversation.

“Knutty, I’d look good in thigh highs, right?” Logan demanded. Finn choked on air and Leo’s eyes went a little unfocused at the thought. “Right?”

“Point proven,” Sirius said with a smirk, ruffling his hair. “See you Monday!”

“I’d look better than you!” he called after Sirius.

“Oh, no you wouldn’t!” Remus shot back, tucking his hand in Sirius’ pocket as they headed for the door.

308 notes · View notes

nightjung · 4 years

Photo

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲

Married Couple!Jaehyun x reader

63. “Wow, I didn’t realize you were that...flexible.”

88. “I’m up for it if you are.”

warnings: impreg kink

a/n: here ya go @plump-peach!! repost with the pic of your request bc tags weren’t working (not surprised tho) when i posted and replied to it, but sorry it took so long, hope you like it bby!!

[ 2.1 k words ]

It was your first Christmas together as a married couple. The year gave you such a headache, from performances to sneaking around with Jaehyun, hiding from Dispatch, you finally had the weekend to yourself. No one said it was easy being married to an idol, you had met him coincidentally when you were studying dance in the local college and were asked to become a backup dancer for NCT. The rest is history.

Before spending Christmas day with both of your families, Jaehyun wanted to reserve a secluded winter cabin and spend time with you before the hectic holidays with your families and his members. You promised no gifts for each other but just the presence of one another.

“Are you liking it?” Jaehyun asked, his head propped up on his arm on the bed.

“Yeah I do,” you turned to smile at your husband, “thank you for such a wonderful time here.”

“Of course-” he leaned into you, “-I hated sneaking around Dispatch, this is the least I could do after what I put you through.”

“And I’d do it again,” you smiled, closing the space between both of your lips.

Maybe it was bad, but ever since you two arrived at the secluded cabin, you couldn’t get enough of each other; hands in each other’s hair, legs tangled together, and the room saturated with the smell of sex and sounds of pleasure. You blamed it on the freezing weather and the home-like feeling the holiday always brought.

Jaehyun’s lips moulded perfectly with yours, he brought warmth to your legs, the quivering feeling making you pull them together. He noticed and scoffed at your avoidance to accept your arousal. With his lips nipping your bottom lip, he pulled away earning a sigh from you as you followed your gaze from your lips to his eyes, the subtle slyness in his eyes eliciting goosebumps on your skin. That’s when you knew tonight was going to be particularly different, especially when Jaehyun lifted his weight from you and held your hand, hoisting you up and taking you to the living room. You managed to grab the light blanket around you before he fully pulled you out of bed, still being naked. You quickly wrapped your naked body before the cold air got to it.

“W-what are you d-doing?” You sputtered, sex was always fun with Jaehyun because there was always something new, but he always told you and asked you beforehand.

Jaehyun sat himself in front of the fireplace with you before him. His breath hitched when he glanced at you, your skin glowing gold before the flames of the fire and your hair perfectly framing your face, falling on your naked shoulders. Your eyes held a sense of innocence and curiosity for his actions, making him gush. “Just wanted to try something new.”

You tilt your head to the side, getting a good look at the fireplace. You chuckled when you realized what he was implying, “in front of the fireplace?” he nodded, his dimples divoting in his cheeks. you bent forward until your lips were barely touching Jaehyun’s, “Well, I’m up for it if you are.”

And of course he was into it. In a swift motion, Jaehyun’s arms wrapped around your body, gently setting you on the floor, not even bothering to put a pillow under you. He was so excited, so excited to just feel you, feel your skin against his, feel your nails scratching his back, and feeling your pussy swallow his throbbing cock.

You noticed the giddiness in his eyes and the small smile on his lips and you couldn’t help but ask, “has this been a fantasy of yours?” Jaehyun nodded again, his dimples making an appearance, once again. You poked them and perched yourself on your elbows to kiss his cheeks.

“Let me take care of you tonight, hm?” he was kind in asking you, but you still sensed the dominance in him creeping up on his hands, one of them now sitting on your breast.

When Jaehyun squeezed the flesh in his large hands, your lips parted, letting him know that whatever he was doing, it was working. He massaged them before pinching your perking nipple between his fingers, which ultimately made you arch your back. Feeling his fingertips trace down to your stomach, brushing over your navel, and down to your clothed pussy.

You hitched your breath from the edging feeling of his touch, earning a playful smirk from Jaehyun, “you like that? Just wait until I take you tonight,” his lips brushing your ear.

Your eyes widened and you inhaled a sharp breath when his hands maneuvered to your womanhood after throwing your underwear to the side, his long fingers not even bothering to coat themselves in your essence but instead harshly entering your pussy. Your eyes rolled back from the sharpening feeling, immediately stretching you out.

Unlike the other nights, Jaehyun was riled, he wasn’t being soft, but instead being so hard and quick. He was quick to get hard, his tip just brushing against your thigh as he bent forward to kiss you aggressively, sucking your bottom lip and drawing it out with his teeth.

“Look so pretty tonight,” he groans, his eyes failing to leave your lips between his teeth.

“Please stop playing around,” you whine when he finally lets go of your lips, “please, Jae, just-”

“Spit it out, tell me what you want, baby” Jaehyun sighs, his biggest wish is to hear you beg.

“I want you, I need to feel you- my gosh just- FUCK!!” You jolted forward, lurching your arms trying to grab ahold of Jaehyun, trying to just grasp onto anything as he thrusted into you, his tip hitting the spot that made you see the stars. You tried your best to narrow your eyes at him at his failure to warn you, but you couldn’t even keep your eyes from squeezing shut.

“Why didn’t...you say so...before,” Jaehyun grunts as his thrusts become harder, deeper.

Instead of replying, you cry out, tears brimming your face as your back arches, the pain of the wooden floor unsuccessfully bringing your head some sort of comfort. Jaehyun noticed you slightly hitting your head on the floor from the upbringing feeling of your climax, that’s why he wrapped his hand around the back of your head, a way to protect yourself from getting hurt and to bring you closer to me.

“Are you going to answer me?” He asks you, who timidly makes eye contact with him, your jaw dropped.

You shyly nod, biting back a moan, “I...I d-don’t know.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, a grin appearing on his face almost as if he knew what he was doing to you, “fucking you so hard, you can’t even come up with the words. Fucking you dumb.” You couldn’t reply to his dirty comment because you were too busy rolling your eyes to the back of your head, exactly proving his point.

The moment Jaehyun grabs onto your legs and wraps them around his waist is the moment where you absolutely lose it. The new angle brings a different, a deeper feeling of his cock hitting the spot where you could almost taste the euphoria on the tip of your tongue. The tongue which dances with Jaehyun when he bends down to plant a kiss, the lewd sounds of him ramming into you and tongues and teeth clashing are louder than the crackling of the fireplace. He moans into the kiss when he snaps his hips into yours, knowing that you’d be incredibly sore the next morning, which makes him thrust even harder.

In the midst of your intimate moment, a sudden thought comes to your mind; a new position. You two weren’t really to explore unnatural positions, but you just needed to feel all of him, you wanted to feel closer, more intimate. Slowly, you unwrapped your legs from Jaehyun’s waist with him giving you a questioning expression. You reassured him with a kiss that you knew what you were doing. In a calm matter, you spread your legs open as far as you could, thanking your flexibility from all of those years of dancing.

A glint of lust filled Jaehyun’s eyes as your legs spread farther open, giving him more access to push into you, “Wow, I didn’t realize you were that...flexible.”

“Guess I have all of those years of dancing to thank for,” you smile up at him.

Albeit the position, Jaehyun doesn’t hesitate to slow or quicken his pace, he’s careful because it’s an area you two never explore. Which he figured that you two should do more often because he never knew that just the spread of your legs could give him more access to shove his tip in deeper. He groans from the way your pussy swallows his cock, the sounds of the lewd act, and the way you squirm under him, telling him how good he feels in you.

“Go faster,” you pant, hands grasping his shoulders.

Quickly, Jaehyun increases the pace which makes you tremble in his arms, tears quickly spilling from the corners of your eyes. The rapid speed of each other’s hips shoving into one another makes the pit of your stomach warm and your throat tighten.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Jaehyun smirks, you only nod to his question as your feet curl.

Jaehyun was always thoughtful in offering to take care of you and making sure you come at least three times, sometimes four. To be honest, he really didn’t think you’d pull through, but you always manage to amaze him. He finds a moment in time to admire your beauty; the red and purple marks scattered across your neck, collarbone, chest, lead down to your stomach, and when he looks up at you, your hair is splayed against the wood floor, some of it sticking to your forehead and the side of your face from sweat. He swears he can come right then and there. When his gaze switches to your face, it holds a golden glow on the rise of your cheeks, making you look like the sun, his world.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he moans, his head falling back as his hands find their way to your clit, quickly rubbing circles.

You sobbed in his touch, his thrusting cock, everything drove you into another dimension as he kept pounding into you relentlessly. Thank goodness for the isolation of the cabin or else you know you’d be dealing with calls from the neighboring houses.

“Cum, cum for me love. Want to feel your cum all over my cock,” Jaehyun lowly said, his eyes dark and determined to make you come undone.

After a few more thrusts, the arising feeling grows in your pussy, immediately clenching when you climax with screwed eyes and clenched fists. Jaehyun holds onto your jerking body as your limbs thrash against the overwhelming feeling.

Focused on your sensitivity, he rides you out as your legs fall limp into their regular stance, “that’s it baby, do it for me.”

You know what he’s doing, “it’s okay, I can take it,” you stroke your hand through his hair, letting him know that he can chase his climax also.

Jaehyun’s gentle when he begins rocking into you again, chasing his own euphoria. You praise him as he does, aware that it turns him on and makes him come quicker.

“Cum for me, baby. Want you to come in me...want to carry your baby, let everyone know how well you knocked me up,” you whisper in his ear, your voice full of sultry.

“Ohhh, you’re so good for me,” Jaehyun groaned, “you’re mine. All mine. Want to have my baby? Let everyone know I knocked you up? Fine. You’re so dirty, so have it your way, princess.”

And soon, Jaehyun’s hips stutter and his groans become higher pitched as he reaches his orgasm. His body shakes as he bends down, his body weight pressed on top of yours as he hides his face in your neck, nipping the warm skin. You peck his temple as he manages to calm down, his breath becoming steady again.

With strong arms, Jaehyun lifts you into his embrace and carries you back to the master bedroom. The room is cold from the missing human heat, but when Jaehyun slides next to you to bring you to his chest, everything is restored.

With a dimpled smile and whiskered cheeks, Jaehyun plants a passionate kiss on your lips, making both of your hearts swell, “Happy holidays, my love.”

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #my writings #repost bc tags hate me #jaehyun au #jaehyun x reader

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ifonlyweknewwhatiwasdoing · 3 years

Note

For the two-part drabble game, how about 6 - In bed at 2am, blissfully drowsy, and 28 - “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?” :)

Hi Friend!

Thank you for the ask!

It turns out drabble isn't in my vocabulary so this went sideways faster than one footed duck (who are surprisingly bad at balancing for birds) and ended up over 2.5k. So enjoy the ficlet? The oneshot? I don't know what acceptable lengths are.

Also this is super duper NSFW so you've all been warned.

They’d won. They’d actually won.

The thought sent a jolt of excitement through Anakin as he made his way to his quarters for the first time in months.

The treaty had been signed and the last of the deployed troops were being recalled. Sure, there was still a lot of mediation to do, the clones right’s bill to get passed through the senate, and probably what would amount to a lifetime of therapy to begin but this was it.

The war was over.

Anakin spent the last three hours trying to outdrink Rex, which had been a mistake because the man had drunk the equivalent of paint thinner for the last five years and Anakin was a lightweight, and the next two sobering up as much as he could when he realized that the war was over.

Tonight, was the night. Or morning. Time had definitely gotten away from Anakin.

He rushed towards the quarters that he shared with Obi-Wan faster, so excited that he’d almost tripped over himself at least four times. He arrived there, putting the code in wrong a few times until his fingers decided to cooperate and the door opened with a hiss. He hurried to Obi-Wan’s room, letting the doors open and stepping in and-.

He wasn’t there.

Anakin blinked and then started to look around as if his master could somehow be hiding in the closet or underneath his desk but the man was nowhere to be found. He sat down on Obi-Wan’s bed, drunk mind still kind of fuzzy as he tried to figure out where his wayward master could have gone at three in the morning. Today was the day. Wasn’t it? Had Obi-Wan changed his mind? With a stab of pain in his gut, he realized his master had probably decided to do some celebrating of his own. A different kind of celebrating than Anakin had been doing. After all, it’d been nearly four months since they’d been temple side and Obi-Wan was only human.

Anakin swallowed around the lump in his throat and laid back on the bed, letting the smell of beard oil and spiced tea fill his lungs as the lingering ghost of Obi-Wan’s force presence wrapped around him.

Tonight, wasn’t the night, he realized, his stomach hurting at the thought. It might already be too late. It was probably too late, and Anakin didn’t even know why he’d thought that it would happen anyway.

He sat up, wiping angry tears off of his face and standing unsteadily.

Fine then. If Obi-Wan wasn’t here, if he wanted to spend the night in someone else’s bed instead of seeing what was right in front of him, then Anakin wouldn’t do the disservice to the both of them by being in his when he returned.

He let the door open and shut behind him, blinking away the stinging in his eyes as he started over to his room, angrily letting the door open and stomping in, deciding that he’d sleep in his bed and then in the morning he’d put in the request to move quarters like he should have after his knighting ceremony. He was a Jedi Master now. He couldn’t continue to share quarters anyway, without it raising questions and he’d just tell Obi-Wan that. Yeah, that’s what he’d do, he’d crawl into his bed and-.

He stopped short, hand still reached out to pull back the covers.

Obi-Wan was curled up into a small ball in the middle of the bed and Anakin didn’t quite remember his master ever being that small. But he supposed it been a while since he’d seen anyone other than The Negotiator.

His auburn hair was fluffy like he’d just taken a shower and let it air dry, freckles dotting across his face from the sun he’d gotten during his month-long campaign in the Outer Rim. He was breathing deeply, His face was shoved into a pillow- Anakin’s pillow, his mind supplied- but he could still see his full lips, mouth slightly open in his sleep. Anakin pulled the blanket down a bit and looked to see his shoulders were bare, the skin lighter than his face from constantly being covered, but no less beautiful. The creamy white skin was still decorated with light dots and a few cuts that he must have gotten while fighting Grievous.

Anakin let his hand brush across Obi-Wan’s shoulder and Obi-Wan shuttered slightly in his sleep, body unconsciously moving towards Anakin.

All of Anakin’s anger had immediately been zapped from him, the tension falling from his body as he looked at the beautiful man in his bed.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered, kicking off his shoes and crawling up onto the bed to shake him gently. Obi-Wan shuffled a bit and then stilled again.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said a little louder, letting his hand slip down across Obi-Wan’s clavicle.

He twitched again, eyes blinking open sleepily as he tried to get his bearings.

“Anakin,” he sighed when he saw him, letting his eyes close and opening his arms, “Mm there you are. Come lay down. It’s late.”

“You’re in my bed,” Anakin told him, trying to keep the smile out of his face.

“So I am,” Obi-Wan told him, voice giving nothing away.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Anakin asked him, shucking off his shirt as he climbed under the sheets with Obi-Wan and wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

“I guess that depends on what you think it means,” Obi-Wan replied.

“You’re not answering my question,” Anakin told him, ducking his head so their foreheads were almost touching.

“You haven’t asked me a question I can answer,” Obi-Wan explained, “I may need a bit more context than that.”

He wanted Anakin to be specific? Anakin could be specific.

“If I kissed you right now, what would you do?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and Anakin relaxed as he was the mirth behind his expression.

“I’m not sure,” he said, as if they were having a conversation about the weather, “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

Anakin closed the space between them, taking Obi-Wan into his arm and kissing him with everything that he had, sucking on his bottom lip and licking along the crease of his lips until he opened his mouth to Anakin’s assault.

Anakin shifted, pulling Obi-Wan on top of him, grasping at his hips as he started to grind up into his. Obi-Wan let out a loud moan, pressing his own hips to meet Anakin’s thrusts and Anakin felt dizzy with the heat that was between them, the desperation for something they’d been waiting for, for too long.

They broke apart, both panting heavily and Obi-Wan started to drag his fingertips across Anakin’s chest. Goosebumps started to break out against his skin and Obi-Wan grinned at him.

“The war is officially over today,” he told Anakin.

“It is,” Anakin agreed, still breathing heavily.

“That means I’m officially no longer your superior officer, council member,” Obi-Wan told him, and then he bent down so that his lips brushed against Anakin’s ear, “We’re officially equals.”

“Yeah?” Anakin asked him, brain fuzzy with pleasure and anticipation at his words.

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan replied, kissing down his neck and then his chest, hands roaming down the vee of his abs.

“Does this mean you can officially fuck me?” Anakin asked him, gasping as Obi-Wan sat up, hands trailing down this inside of his thighs.

“If that’s what you want,” Obi-Wan told him, blue-green eyes dark as his breath hitched.

“That’s what I want,” Anakin assured him, squirming under the man, “Please?”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” Obi-Wan mused, lifting his hips to start tugging at Anakin’s pants.

“Oh kark,” Anakin groaned as the cold air hit his cock. Obi-Wan started to pull of his own sleep pants and Anakin couldn’t help but watch, mouth going dry at the sight of him.

“If you keep looking at me like that, this isn’t going to last long,” Obi-Wan warned him.

“We’ve got the rest of our lives and if you don’t kriff me right now I’m going to die,” Anakin breathed out, moaning as Obi-Wan sat back down on his hips and leaned down to press another kiss to his mouth, this time an open-mouthed, rough kiss, teeth clashing together almost painfully.

“Then we’d better get moving,” Obi-Wan gave him a smirk, giving him a kiss before climbing off of him to spread his legs. Anakin eagerly let him, the weight of what was happening not settling in until Obi-Wan was between his spread legs, putting one of his feet against the bed and then sliding it back so that Anakin was exposed for him.

Anakin’s breath hitched and Obi-Wan looked up sharply, fingers brushing over his face.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked him softly, “I won’t be mad if you want to wait.”

“I’ve been waiting for years,” Anakin argued, “I’m just a little nervous is all.”

Obi-Wan gave him a soft smile, kissing him as he shifted to dig between the mattress and the frame, pulling out a bottle of lube.

“How did you know that was there?” Anakin asked, face heating in embarrassment.

Obi-Wan hummed noncommittedly as he popped the cap and squeezed some out on his fingers.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin squeaked.

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are,” Obi-Wan told him as he started to circle his entrance, “And these walls aren’t that thick.”

Anakin was mortified, even as he started to pant harder when Obi-Wan slid a finger into him up to the first knuckle.

“You could hear me?” Anakin asked and then feeling as if he would die, “All of it?”

“Do you know how hard it was to stay on the right side of the door when you’re calling my name?” Obi-Wan asked him, voice thick with lust as he started thrusting one finger in and out of Anakin, “While you’re begging for me? When you come you leave the bond wide open and it’s like I’m in your body for a second, watching you shove your fingers in and out of yourself while you cry for me.”

“I didn’t know,” Anakin told him, head thrashing as Obi-Wan slides a second finger inside of him. His blood was boiling, and he felt like he’s being cooked from the inside out when Obi-Wan curled his fingers and hit his prostate straight on.

He won’t ever admit to the sound that comes out of his throat at the sensation.

“You look even more beautiful when it’s my fingers inside of you,” Obi-Wan told him huskily, “You’re flushed from your face to your cock while you squirm on my fingers.”

Anakin let out an impossibly high keen and pushed his hips back down onto Obi-Wan’s fingers harder. He feels like one point of concentrated heat and need and he almost sobbed when Obi-Wan slid a third finger into him.

“I want you; I want you, please,” Anakin mindlessly babbled. His cock was impossibly hard and Obi-Wan’s fingers felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be split open on Obi-Wan’s cock like he’d been dreaming of since he was his padawan. He pushed the mental image towards him, not trusting his mouth to be able to get the words out.

“Oh force,” Obi-Wan said breathlessly, “You’re so desperate for it.”

“Please,” Anakin begged, “Please.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers slid from him, and he whined at the empty feeling but then he opened his eyes at the snick of a bottle opening, watching with rapt attention as Obi-Wan started to spread the slick on his cock and then he was adding more against Anakin’s hole.

“Please,” Anakin sobbed out.

“It’s okay darling,” Obi-Wan shushed him, “I’ve got you. I promise.”

And then the head of his cock was pressed against Anakin’s hole and Anakin was taking a deep breath as Obi-Wan breached him, his body trying to resist the intrusion.

He felt as Obi-Wan pet at his hips, throwing Anakin’s bent leg over his shoulder.

“You’re doing so good dear one,” he told him, “Just relax and let me in.”

“Please, oh,” Anakin moaned, forcing his body to relax as Obi-Wan continued to press in.

It felt like forever before he was fully seated in Anakin, the pressure of being open so wide sending an ache through his spine.

“That’s it,” Obi-Wan told him, panting as he shook with the effort of staying still, “Oh you’re so tight. You’re so tight, kriff.”

Anakin waited until the ache in his spine lessened and nodded at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan pulled his hips back slightly, pressing into him and then repeating it over and over, each time letting his cock slide out a little more until he was thrusting eagerly, pulling out until only the tip remained in Anakin and then pressing back in, in one solid motion, fucking the breath out of him.

The pain in his spine gave way to pleasure and he could feel his orgasm building in his gut, whimpers, and moans escaping his lips as Obi-Wan began to fuck him earnestly, the headboard of the bed shaking with every thrust.

“You’re so perfect,” Obi-Wan told him as he fucked him, “You’re so beautiful like this, split open on my cock. Look how good you take it.”

“Please, please, please,” Anakin babbled, his mind unable to come up with anything else as pressure started building in his balls and he desperately wrapped a hand around his cock, only for his hand to be pushed away, replaced with Obi-Wan’s calloused, tight grip. He stroked him once and then twice and Anakin was gone, letting out a wail as he came, back arching up as he painted his own stomach his cum.

His legs shook as Obi-Wan continued fucking him through the aftershocks, pressing against his over-sensitized prostate.

“I’m almost there,” Obi-Wan promised him, “You’re so good. You’re squeezing so tightly around me. Kriff, you feel so good. I’m so close- oh!”

Anakin felt Obi-Wan pulsing inside of him as he shoved into him one last time, something warm and wet splashing inside of him and filling him up.

Obi-Wan collapsed on him, panting heavily. They laid like that until Anakin started to squirm underneath of him, thighs beginning to cramp from the way Obi-Wan had him bent in half. Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbows, pulling out and letting Anakin’s leg slip off of his shoulder before sliding into bed next to him and pulling their bodies together.

“We should probably shower,” Anakin told him sleepily.

Obi-Wan made a noncommittal noise, tucking Anakin’s head under his chin and tangling their legs together.

“Your cum is leaking out of me,” Anakin tried again and Obi-Wan’s grip tightened on him.

“Exactly how it should be,” Obi-Wan told him, “You’re mine and now you can’t forget it.”

“I’ve always been yours,” Anakin whispered into his chest, “I’ve waited for you for ten years Obi-Wan. While everyone else was out experimenting I knew exactly what I wanted.”

Obi-Wan clutched Anakin tighter to his chest, breathing out hard.

“I love you,” he whispered into Anakin’s hair.

“I love you too,” Anakin whispered into his chest.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #i can't write a drabble for shit #it's always sits at like 2.5k #something is wrong with me

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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Holy shit, I’ve read so much of your work without knowing who you are— on both Tumblr and AO3. Well, I’m very glad I followed a link to your profile because now I can tell you I love your work!! And I’ll finally be able to thank you for it!

You are far too sweet. Usually I tend to stick to a corner of fandom and not venture far so I’m glad you have followed a link to my profile :D There’s some really exciting Big Bang and Reverse Big Bang pieces coming on AO3 soon and I like putting short ficlets on here. And this one is especially for you!

Winters at Kaer Morhen were tough. Lambert was always to one to loudly grumble about how terrible it was. Not just the memories that haunted the long hallways and empty rooms, there were other things that made winters awful. Four witchers were locked together high up in the mountains when they were used to roaming, being solitary and dictating their own schedule. The sudden change was a culture shock and often resulted in growling disagreements for weeks on end. Usually, they re-learned how to coexist and have company again just in time to leave for the year, only to rinse and repeat the pattern. It didn’t get easier as the years went on.

If that had been the only problem, maybe winters wouldn’t have been so bad. Alas, there was more at play. Bitterly cold nights and only marginally less cool days packed with physical labour took their toll. But they needed to work, to chop wood, hunt and collect herbs. An idle witcher was a bored witcher and those were dangerous. Plus, if they were busy then there was no time to argue outside of training which they had to do to keep in shape. The worst though was the pain. Old injuries and aches were made worse by the cold. But there was nowhere else safe to winter. If people saw them at their weakest, when the cold bit through scars and sank its teeth cruelly into long since healed injuries, they wouldn’t trust a witcher ever again. Part of a witcher’s ability to get paid was in the myth that they were untiring, immune to such human things like aches and pains. So it was safer to hide away for the worst of winter, to suffer with those who knew what it was like.

In the hidden corners of Kaer Morhen, no human could see when Lambert’s knee gave way from the time a pegasus kicked him. Or the consequent hip problems he’d developed thanks to the knee healing badly. Eskel would help pick him up from the floor and settle him by the fire without a word. There was no room for sympathy in their world but they could still be compassionate. In turn, Vesemir would cook stews and soft foods on the days Eskel’s jaw seized up and he could barely open his mouth for more than a drink. And Lambert would take Geralt’s wood chopping duties on the days his elbow couldn’t bear the weight of an axe. There was a reason Vesemir stayed at Kaer Morhen almost year round. The older a witcher got, the more injuries they lived with and winters were more difficult. He knew that Geralt and Eskel were starting to feel their years when they arrived back sooner and left later, trying to avoid the trip up and down the mountain when riddled with so many aches and pains.

The letter from Lambert one year was both disappointing and a relief. He wasn’t returning for winter that year, something about having an invitation in the south. That year, winters were much quieter without his constant bitching. Instead, the other three suffered in silence which was almost worse. There was no snapping and snarling, the old keep was plenty big enough that they could avoid each other and nurse their hurts in absolute privacy. It was the loneliest year.

On the Path, it was pure chance that Eskel bumped into Lambert who looked much better than expected. He even managed to smile at Eskel.

“Come with me next winter, I’ll show you something amazing.”

The offer was one that caught Eskel off guard. Never before had Lambert been one to share, hoarding his stash of soothing creams and warm water skeins as if his life depended on it. Such an offer was made ever more curious when a cat witcher sauntered out of the woods, looking rather pleased with himself. He gave Eskel a once over and grinned.

“We’ve got room for you, big guy, bring the rest of your pack too.”

That winter, it was just Eskel and Vesemir at Kaer Morhen. They’d heard from Geralt to say he was going with Lambert and taking Jaskier with him too. The winds howled through Kaer Morhen and Eskel’s teeth chattered even as the scars on his face prickled from being so close to the fire.

In the spring, Geralt was at the bottom of the mountain looking rested and healthy. A bard was by his side looking tanned and spoiled.

“Meet me by the Theodula pass at the end of the year. We’re bringing Vesemir too.”

The year was harsh, new injuries, a badly set shoulder that Eskel had trouble with in the spring meant he was dreading winter. When it came time to decide which direction to turn, Eskel faced the north, he couldn’t risk the chance of Vesemir spending the year alone even if they weren’t much company for each other over the cold months. Dutifully, Eskel headed towards Kaer Morhen. At the bottom of the mountain, a vaguely familiar figure greeted him.

“Lambert and Geralt owe me. You need to head south, Wolf.” It was the cat witcher. “Vesemir is already half way there, Geralt had Jaskier sweet talk him into finally abandoning the old crumbling tomb.”

Without much choice, Eskel turned Scorpion around and Aiden accompanied him. The further south they headed, the warmer the weather got. They passed through Aedirn and Lyria into Sodden and Toussaint. Not that they stopped there which surprised Eskel, Geralt had always daydreamed about the place. Instead they carried on to Geso, Maecht, Etolia before entering Vicovaro. There, Aiden seemed perfectly at home, stripping out of his armour in the sweltering heat. A little more modest, Eskel allowed himself to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. They approached a sprawling mansion and Aiden hopped off his horse.

“Honeys we’re home!” he hollered. Eskel watched as the door opened and Lambert bounded out, seemingly full of energy. Behind him was another man, following with a little more dignity.

“Welcome home,” the man greeted Aiden with a kiss that was easy with well established familiarity. Lambert pulled Aiden in too with zero care for what was considered polite. Ignoring the two, the man turned to Eskel. “Welcome, I’m Cahir. You’re welcome to spend the the season here. From what I heard, Kaer Morhen hasn’t been the best of places to rest after a tough year.”

Understatement of the century, Eskel thought. He didn’t have much choice but to accept the seeming generosity of a stranger. One that Lambert apparently bedded, as did Aiden. And Geralt trusted too at that. From the doorway, Vesemir appeared, looking a little out of place still and Eskel could well and truly appreciate that.

As the weeks passed, it became easier. There was no cold, no worries about needing food and supplies in a hostile environment. Even the aches and pains that plagued them during the winter seemed to be held at bay. It was winter but Eskel could enjoy a crisp apple without his jaw locking, could chew even tougher meats and not freeze with agony of each move. The novelty of it put him in a good mood and, looking around, he could see the others in a similar state.

“From now on,” Cahir said one evening, a glass of wine in hand and Aiden’s feet in his lap, “I want you all to consider this your safe haven. Winter here and stay here all you wish. If you need a place to recuperate, you’ll always be protected here.”

It was a most generous offer, one that Eskel didn’t think could be a serious one. Nobody wanted witchers around, especially not if they weren’t on contract. Yet there was Cahir, seemingly comfortable with not only two witchers in his bed but three others in his home too. As time passed, Eskel learned that maybe he had been a little wrong. It was a serious offer for sure. And Cahir’s bed was big enough not for just two, but three witchers. It was something Cahir, Lambert and Aiden took great joy in proving to Eskel over and over again.

#geraskier #eskel/lambert/cahir/aiden #aiden/cahir/lambert #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #aiden #vesemir #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #chronic injuries and pain #long post #tldr: witchers suffer in the cold

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wayward-mikaelson · 3 years

Text

I Still Want You, I Still Need You-IV. The Snap

Word Count: 3816

About: A fight is brought to Wakanda leaving you and many others devastated.

Characters: Bucky, Steve, T’Challa, Shuri, Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey, Thor, Thanos, Vision, Wanda, Okoye, and Sam

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (Unprotected-wrap it before you tap it kids and Implied rough sex), Playful Teasing, Fighting, Injuries, Death, Heartbreak

A/N: These last few days I have been having internet trouble but I am back up and running. Also, this ripped my heart as I wrote this so have a tissue or tissue box at hand. I also tried to keep a few of the big IW events in this part.

*This contains content made for 18 and up crowd. Read at your own disrection

**Please do not copy and paste my work anywhere. Reblogs and sharing the link are okay.

***This work is also posted on Wattpad and Archive of our Own. Links can be found in the pinned post on my profile

****Go follow my other accounts. Links can be found in the pinned post on my profile

*****Currently NOT taking request

******Feedback is Welcomed!!

Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

Marvel Tags: Open

Story Tags: @cspr-2 @mysticalfestivalkoala @tanyaherondale @lilithknight1111 @lpzallana @snlsamantha @tomisagod @gloriouspersonbanditrascal @buckysgirl101

Bucky/Sebastian Tags: Open

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III. Fresh Air (NSFW)

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The walk wasn’t long and the weather was perfect. It gave your time to think about what you were going to say to Bucky. Steve had called with his monthly check in, it had surprised you due to the hour he called. He knew the time here in Wakanda and he always enjoyed talking to the both of you. So when he called, you had wondered why.

You entered the clearing and got a good view of yours and Bucky’s home. The view of the tree covered mountain always put a smile on your face. No matter what kind of mood you were in. Movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Bucky was playing with two kids from the Border Tribe. You knew these kids pretty well, their parents were hard workers. These boys must have gotten it from their parents because, they would help Bucky with just about anything. Bucky loved it and it made you fall in love all over again with him whenever you saw him with kids.

You continued to walk towards the house with that smile on your face. The days where you saw Bucky messing around and just being himself, God it made you want to give him a child right away. Even you wanted a kid, but in you one year of marriage, it was still you and Bucky. Then again, with how busy the two of you were, you guys never had that conversation.

“Ah, there she is,” Bucky sat up from the ground. “My beautiful and most gorgeous wife.” He stood up and made his way towards you. Soon, you were wrapped in his arm with your lips pressed to his. “I got a lot done today with the twins help,” He mumbled into your lips. “All there’s left is dinner and dessert.” Bucky’s hand slid down from to cup your right ass cheek making you squeal.

“Well,” you pulled back to stare into his blue eyes. The longer he stared at you the darker they got. “Why don’t we send the boys home with some food and we get to work on the rest of the evening.” You motioned the boys to follow you into the house. Soon, they were off with a basket of fruit, bread, cookies and soup.

“Thank you Mister and Missus Barnes!” They called over their shoulders as they walked away. Your cheeks tingled as they called your by Bucky’s last name. You still never got over that people called you Missus Barnes.

You and Bucky had a short ceremony a week after he proposed. Tony would have had a cow if he found out the you weren’t going to have a huge and ravishing wedding. You didn’t care, all that mattered was you and Bucky. Given the circumstances, the ceremony had to be small. T’Challa officiated the wedding, making legal in every binding way. Shuri and Okoye were the witnesses. You had worn a small, simple Wakandan gown while Bucky wore a button up shirt and pants.

While you watched the boys disappear over the hills, Bucky snaked his arm around your waist and pressed his lips to your neck. You closed your eyes, “Steve called earlier,” you said cutting off whatever Bucky was doing.

“Really? Why so early?” He had the same tone of confusion and wonder you had. Bucky had always loved talking with his friend.

You turned in his arm and stared up at him. “He wants us to meet him in Berlin tomorrow evening. He says he may have found a way to clear everyone’s names.”

Bucky took a step back. You immediately knew where his thoughts were going. “He want’s to run it by all off us and we have to let him know in the morning.” You closed the space between the two of you. You reached up to grab the collar of his shirt, “I did tell him that we made Wakanda our home so if his plan works we will be still be living here.”

Bucky smiled. “Good,” he slowly started to back you into the wall. “We can call him tomorrow and tell him we’ll be there. How we skip right to dessert?” Bucky’s chest gently pinned you to the wall and he trailed a slow kiss from the base of your neck to your lips and down again. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Do you want kids?” You blurted out.

Bucky pulled away, the lust disappearing from his eyes. “Yes, why? Are you…?”

You shook your head. “No. I just see how well you are with the kids that pass by through here. You’re so great with them and I just know that if we have a few of our own, you’ll make the perfect father.”

Bucky cupped your chin with his hand. “Are you wanting to try? Starting tonight?” There was small smile forming on his lips.

A smile plays on the corner of your lips as well.

Moments later, You laying on your back while Bucky hovers over you. You reach between your naked bodies and take hold of Bucky’s hardened cock. A small and almost silent moan slips from Bucky’s mouth. You give his cock two slow pumps before lining him up with your aching entrance.

Bucky slowly pushed into you, causing your eye to close and roll back. “Open those gorgeous eyes, Doll,” Bucky stated to thrust in and out of you at a decent pace. You opened your eyes and see Bucky staring down at you. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“You tell me everyday, love,” You lifted your hips up to meet Bucky half way. Each time the two of your met, a soft groan escaped your lips. “Do you know how lucky I am to have you?”

Bucky chuckled. “Only when we’re having sex.”

You playfully smack his chest. “I was being serious.”

“I know,” Bucky laughed and dipped down to press his lips to yours. While pushing himself further into you, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“You know what,” you pushed Bucky onto his back and straddled him. “Screw the slow and sensual crap. I’m going to make tonight feel like this is going to be the last time we ever do this.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “In that case, Doll, get on all fours.”

***

The next morning you and Bucky are doing some work, when Bucky purposefully bumped into you spilling some water from the bucket he was carrying. You turned to him to see him laughing as he continued to walk away. You shook your head as you thought up your move.

You walked over to where he stood next to the compost pile. As you walked by, you bumped his hips with yours, causing Bucky to lose his balance and fall into the compost. You covered your mouth to fight the laughter.

Bucky sat up in the pile and stared at you. You dropped your hand while the smile was still on your lips. “Next time you’ll think twice about splashing me with water.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Bucky lunged forward. You tried to move away but Bucky managed to his hand on you and pull you back into the compost with him. “Now, I think we’re even,” Bucky’s hand trailed down to your thigh and gave it a small, little squeeze.

“I love you,” you pressed your lips to his before standing up. “I have to go help Shuri and make that call to Steve.”

The moment you stood on your feet and turned around, you wished you hadn’t. There, entering the clearing and walking towards you and Bucky was T’Challa and some of his guards. It wasn’t the guards that followed the King of Wakanda that bothered you, it was the big, narrow case that accompanied them.

You knew that case all too well. If the case was being brought, you knew something was going to happen.

You looked back at your husband, all smiles and playful behavior no longer painted his face. The look of dread and sadness had taken it’s place. It was almost similar to the look he had before going back on ice. It ripped your heart out to see that look on his face.

“I’m sorry to break up such a fun moment,” T’Challa sounded like he was talking to someone of a higher power than him.

He gestured to the guards to bring the case up. You held your breath as they opened it. There sat the black and gold metal arm you helped Shuri design. You watched as Bucky slowly approached the case to get a better look at the arm. You could see that part of him is excited about the arm, for you had told him all about it and what it could do. The other part is that he knows that he will have to put it on. Both of you knew it.

Bucky Barnes may have been tired to fight, but he would fight to protect the world. And you, you were his entire world. The one thing keeping him going and not just flat out giving up. He would do just about anything, even if it meant dying, to make sure you lived to see another day.

“Where’s the fight?” he asked in a hollow voice.

T’Challa looked between the two of you. He hated this just as much as you did. “On it’s way.”

***

You stood looking through the window and watched as your husband got his arm on. It looked painful in your opinion, but Bucky’s face made no indication that it hurt him. He just stared at the ceiling until the procedure was finished.

There wasn’t much said about why you guys were needed. Just that Steve was on his way here and would fill you all in when he arrived. You knew it must have been urgent if Steve wouldn’t give the full story.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice pulled your back from your thoughts. You turned around and immediately stared at the metal arm on your husband. Suddenly, you were having some very impure thoughts about it. Maybe you should have convinced Bucky to have the arm sooner. All you wanted was to feel those cool, metal fingers on your bare skin. Gripping every part of your body.

“Hi,” you breathed out. You had to shake your head to distract you from the dirty thoughts about that arm.

“How do I look?” Bucky held out both arms and did a small little spin.

You rose an eyebrow with a smile on your face, “Do you want the clean answer or dirty answer to that?” Bucky closed the space between the two of you. His metal hand gripped your hip and pulled your closer to him. He was on to your thoughts.

“That depends,” his voice was right against your ear. It sent instant shivers down your spine. Yep, he was one hundred on to you. “Do you want the clean answer or dirty answer to how you look? Cause this tight outfit you’re wearing is already doing something to me. Where has this been the whole time?” Bucky’s metal hand snaked to your ass and gave it a small squeeze before backing you to a wall.

“Packed away with that arm of yours,” You slowly wrap your arms around his waist.

Bucky nuzzled your neck, sending more shivers down your back. “How come? We could have had loads of fun with this.”

“The last time I wore this, I fell a good story out of a helicopter,” you answered.

Bucky pulled back and stared at you. “What?” his eyebrows furrowed. “How? What were you doing? How come I never heard about that?”

You dropped your arms, “Because it happened while you were still on ice and I was doing something on the side for T’Challa. Gathering information.”

“Were you hurt?”

You took a deep breath. “Yes and Shuri made some upgrades so if I were to fall a good distance, the suit would take most of the impact.” The look on your husbands face tugged at your heart. He looked hurt that he didn’t know about those few months where you went out and did small missions. “Look,” you took his face in your hands. “I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you and I’m sorry I never said anything about it. Let’s talk more about this later.”

Bucky pushed your back against the wall. “Only if you wear this,” he said before pressing his lips firmly to yours. His tongue slipped passed your lips and explored your mouth.

“And only if you keep that arm for a while,” you smile against his lips.

The sound of an air craft was heard, making both you and Bucky pull apart and look out the window. A smile formed on your face when you recognized the air craft. Spinning on your heel you raced out to the front, with Bucky following after you.

You waited impatiently for the Quinjet to land. When the loading hatch opened you watched as not only Steve walk out, but more of your friends. They approached T’Challa and you saw only one of them bow. Idiot, you thought. Then you realized who that idiot was.

“Oh my god, Bruce!” You whispered. You hadn’t seen since Sokovia and a lot of your had long sense thought he had died.

Then you locked eyes with Steve. You and Bucky approached him and he gave the both of you the biggest hug ever. It was two years worth of hugs.

“How are you guys doing?” He asked as he pulled away from Bucky.

“We’re good,” Bucky looked at you and smiled.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

Steve looked around him and then placed his hands on his hips. “Bruce, wanna tell them?”

You looked at Bruce, who walked slowly towards you. There as look on his face that instantly made you worried for some reason. “Someone called Thanos, he’s after what’s called the Infinity Stones. Vision was almost killed for the Mind Stone. We’re seeing if it can be taken off and destroyed without killing him before Thanos get’s it.”

“What does he want with them?” Bucky asked.

“He wants to wipe out half of the worlds population,” Bruce looked towards Bucky. “Who are you?”

“Bucky,” Bucky answered. “Barnes. I’m also Y/Ns husband.”

Bruce looked back at you. “You got married? Does Tony know? Wait speaking of Tony.”

Your heart skipped a beat when Bruce said Tony’s name like it was some sort of taboo thing. Bucky noticed the change in your posture. He took a step towards you and placed his hand in yours. “What about Tony?” Your voice was hard.

***

You stood in the lab as you processed what was said about your brother. You didn’t want to believe it but then again it was Tony. He did just about anything. You were so lost in thought you didn’t know what was being said about Vision or the stone on his head. You walked to the window and looked out into the distance.

“You doing okay?” Natasha was standing beside you.

“As good as I can be,” You looked over to her. She had cute and died her hair blonde. You weren’t going to lie, you liked it a lot. “I just hope he’s okay.”

“We all do,” Natasha rubbed your arm. “Does Tony know you married the man that killed your father?” You shook your head. “You know he might not take it well, when or if he finds out.”

“Tony will just have to suck it up, Bucky’s fixed now and isn’t who he was when he worked with HYDRA.” You were aware of the ear piece in your ear linking you to the rest of the team. Bucky had one too. You knew he heard all that was said and you knew what was going on through his head.

Howard and Maria Stark were the biggest contribution to his nightmares.

“Hey guys,” Sam’s voice rang in your ears. “Um, somethings trying to get in.”

“They won’t be able to,” Okoye said.

“Are you sure about that?” You watch as something hit the barrier that surrounds Wakanda. Then another one and soon you’re able to see the barrier itself.

You turned to see everyone staring out the window. Poor Vision was laying on the table looking helpless. Wanda was hovering over him and staying close to him. You could read her body language well. Wanda loved him.

T’Challa and Steve exchanged a few words and it appeared they agreed on something. “How much time do you need, Shuri?”

“As much as you can give me,” Shuri didn’t looked up from her spot. She was too engrossed with what she saw.

“Y/N,’ Steve was approaching you. “It’s best if you stay up here and protect Vision with Wanda.”

“I agree, Doll,” Bucky’s voice was in your ear. “Whatever’s coming sounds nasty and I want you as far from it as possible.”

“And if the fight comes towards me?”

“Then kick their asses and show them some hell,” Natasha smiled.

***

Hell is what you gave when three creatures broke into the lab. You were quick on your feet but not too quick. One had thrown you off a landing right next to Vision. You got up and did the only thing you thought of.

“Get out of here Vision!” You helped Vision off the table until something crashed into the two of you sending the two of you through the window.

You slid the slanted roof trying to find something to grab onto. You called out for help only to not get a response back. The edge of the roof was quickly approaching and your hand missed the edge by centimeters. You were then falling three stories down to the ground. Even though your suit could take the impact, you weren’t so sure about your head. Then something grabbed you midair before setting your down. You looked up and saw Rhodey flying away back towards the fight. You made a mental note to try and thank him later.

“Guys, we got ourselves a Vision situation,” Sam said.

“Somebody get to Vision,” Steve yelled.

“Already on it,” You replied. You started to weave in and out of the threes looking for Vision. From a distance you heard a clap of thunder and soon saw a flash of lighting and you knew who just entered the fight.

Something crashed into you and sent you flying to a nearby three. Your head smacked against the trunk. You cried out and landed face first into the ground. Whatever threw you, picked you up by gripping a chunk of your hair. They were disgusting looking and part of you felt like that moment was it. You were a goner. Then they dropped you as they fell to their knees.

“You alright, Doll,” Bucky helped you up and looked you over.

“I think so,” you were breathing hard. “Not my finest hour.”

Suddenly there was gust of wind. Something was changing and it raised goosebumps on every part of your body. You looked around to see a cloud of blue burst and a purple looking thing walked out. One hand was covered in a gold glove with gems on it. Thanos, you thought.

“That’s him,” you heard Bruce say.

Then everyone was racing towards him. Anyone who got close to him was thrown back. Bruce was thrown into boulder. Natasha was pinned under earth that rose from the ground. Bucky was thrown into a three. You and Steve were the only ones who got close.

You slid in between Thanos’s legs and jumped onto his shoulders. You pulled the knife from your thigh holster. Before you could stab the knife into him, Thanos pulled on your leg and then gripped your neck with one of his giant hands. With each second it was tightening and you barely able to breath. You clawed at the giant hand but failed. The look on his face has a faint smile. He was taking pleasure in killing you.

“No!” Bucky’s voice was heard from someone.

The grip on your neck loosened some, giving you some breathing air. Thanos looked towards the sound and back at you. He looked you over and then flung you into a tree. You landed on the ground, the wind being knocked out of you.

You rolled over onto you knees to watch what happened next.

It all happened in slow motion. Wanda was holding off Thanos while destroying the stone on Visions head. You saw the heartbroken look on her face. She didn’t want to do it but she knew she needed to. Vision had closed his eyes and you knew that he made peace with what was happening.

Then Vision and the stone were gone.

But that isn’t what surprised you.

Thanos did something on that glove of his hand. All the while, he spoke quietly to Wanda. Green surrounded that area and suddenly, Vision was back. Wanda realized what was going to happen, so she jumped up and was thrown back by Thanos. Then Thanos had Vision by the neck and ripped the stone right off his head.

Vision was gone again.

Everything started to change when you saw and axe fly passed your head. Thor was then attacking Thanos and digging his axe deep into his opponents chest when Thor stopped. His head turned when he saw Thanos raise his hand up and snap the fingers that were in the gloved hand.

Everything, everywhere was silent and it sent chills down your spine. Something happened and you knew that something was bad and going to leave you heart broken.

“What did you do?” Thor yelled but Thanos disappeared leaving the group to stare at one of another.

You walked up to Steve who was a few feet from you and helped him up. He walked over to Wanda who was next to Visions body. The look on her face was pure brokenness.

Little did you know…

“Y/N? Steve?”

You turned and froze. Bucky had been making his way towards you when he started to turn to dust. You quickly ran over to him and right when you got within grabbing range he fell to the ground. Dust at your feet.

“No,” you whispered as your knees gave out beneath you. Your hand ran through what was left of your husband. You felt your entire world grow cold. You felt pressure on your chest as you covered your mouth to suppress the sob that took over your body. The of you were happy and talking about having kids and now, not even twenty four hours later, you were left alone looking at the literal ashes of your husband.

You let out a scream you didn’t know your body or vocal cords were capable of.

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ficforce · 3 years

Text

A Good Man Part 2

Hinawa Takehisa x Reader SFW No set timeline New relationship

“Ouch!” The woman yelped and rubbed her hip, that was the fourth time Hinawa had shot her in the same spot, he dulled the shots right down so they hurt but didn’t pierce the skin, she was one of the four left in his sadistic game of tag. The team had to get to the flag without the Lieutenant shooting them, they were all failing badly, Shinra and Tamaki sat in the corner to the side with their arms crossed, red marks just between their eyes - Headshots were an instant disqualification.

They had a little further to go, Maki was the closest and Arthur couldn’t stand to wait anymore so he bolted, a speech about his Knight King skills being cut short by a gunshot, he slumped off and the other woman took the chance to summon Sputter using what was left of an earlier ignition by Shinra earlier,, she grew the little fireball bigger and bigger, dodging bullets and launching a counter-attack. With Maki leading the way, Y/N and Vulcan rushed in behind her, the red-haired youth would have made it if he hadn’t have been shot in the knee and fallen into Maki - The large Sputter lost it’s shape and burst, much to Maki’s dismay. Y/N’s eyes widened as the orange and yellow flames spread out, she was in full protective gear but it made her retreat and huddle behind a makeshift barrier. She had to remember to breathe, she forced herself to calm down, it was okay, it was controlled fire, Maki wouldn’t let that happen. Steeling herself she forced herself to her feet and round the corner, right into the barrel of Hinawa’s handgun, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for him to shoot her.

“I’m not cruel enough to shoot you at point-blank range. You’re disqualified.” Hinawa holstered his weapon and told everyone to hit the showers. They had failed the task but it was valuable training, the Lieutenant could already see them all reviewing where they had gone wrong and he knew they’d do better in the morning. “Y/N, you’re on clean up duty after dinner.”

Washing up duty, her least favourite but she nodded regardless. Hinawa still made her nervous, he had been around a lot more since her meeting with Obi and the Lieutenant two weeks earlier, she wasn’t sure if he was watching her out of concern or looking for mistakes. It had to be the former because she knew he was a kind man. Even if he looked ready to murder at any given moment. Y/N was getting better at reading the man’s micro-expressions, she glanced at him discreetly, his eyes still held an amber hue from using his ability throughout the training, he seemed pleased with them though. Finding a reason to delay her shower, she headed in after Maki and Iris had finished, she had never showered with them before and they were kind enough not to pry into it, Maki told her once not to be so shy and Y/N wasn’t about to tell her it wasn’t the case. The evening passed quickly - Paperwork had to be done and then they all sat down to eat. The table as lively as ever, “Aren’t you hot, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from her food and shook her head at Arthur’s question, “Not really.”

“I’ve never seen you without your jumpsuit all done up. Even when it’s really warm weather.” Shinra elbowed him from the side, “What? I’m just saying…”

“It’s okay, I just prefer to be covered, it’s a pain to wash the oil off of my skin all the time - we can’t all get away with being dirty all the time.”

“Rude,” Vulcan said as she realised he was talking about him. “I’m always welding, besides, the oil slides right off me.” They fell into a new subject but Y/N noticed that she was being watched, she turned her head a little and she met Hinawa’s gaze, heat began to rise in her cheeks and she looked away nervously. She missed the slight frown on the Lieutenant’s lips, the man was disappointed that she was still frightened of him.

It was always two of them that washed up after, Y/N passed Obi the last dish and washed her hands, “Done!”

Obi dried it and placed it back in the cupboard, “We certainly eat a lot.” The Captain clicked on the kettle and pulled out three cups, “How’s it been, Y/N? Hinawa told me that you handled yourself well in training earlier.”

“I froze,” She admitted and passed him the coffee.

“But you got yourself under control and got up.”

“Straight into his line of fire…” She liked washing up with the Captain, he always made a decent coffee and he was pleasant to chat with afterwards.

Obi poured the boiling water, “You can’t take a compliment at all, can you?” He snorted at her shrug and handed her a cup, “You know, Hinawa doesn’t give praise lightly… he’s not a bad guy, I know he seems prickly and serious, that’s just him, he’s not as emotive as everyone else but he’s a -”

“He’s a kind man. I know, Captain… Don’t think I haven’t noticed it.” She hit his bicep lightly, the muscle hard as stone, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to set us up either - you’re not skilled at it.”

“You say that,” he grinned, “But someone has to take this coffee to Hinawa and I’m pulling rank, off you go, Y/N”

— -

Grumbling under her breath, the coffee cup in her hand, Y/N headed down the hall toward the office. Inside was still a mountain of paperwork, everyone else had retired for the night but Hinawa would no doubt be still at it. But she didn’t hear the clicking of the keys on his laptop and nor could she see his hat peaking up over the paper piles, “Lieutenant?” She found him on the other side, his cheek resting on his arm where he seemed to have dozed off, it was unheard of and Y/N set his coffee down quietly before sliding the laptop over to herself and saving his work.

He looked so peaceful laying there that Y/N wasn’t sure whether to wake him or not, he would end up with a sore back and neck ache if he stayed there… He would be better going to bed, “Sir…” Y/N whispered, her hand hovering over his shoulder but not yet touching him, “Lieutenant Hinawa… Sir.” Her hand rested on the back of his shoulder and suddenly her entire world was turning, she felt pressure on her wrist from where the man was pulling and then the touch softened, she landed gentler than expected. Her eyes met his and Y/N realises she was laid across his lap, his hand rested on her back to keep her from falling back, “Um… Did…did I startle you?”

“You’re lucky I realised it was you or you’d be pinned to the floor.” Hinawa adjusted his glasses and sighed, “Did you need something?”

“I was bringing you coffee, then I didn’t want you to sleep at the desk… Lieutenant?” He blinked at her, head tilting slightly in question, “C-Could you let me go now?” He still had hold of her wrist and it was embarrassing being on his lap. Though… she couldn’t help but stare a little at his face. Hinawa was handsome, his hand was warm on her back and she realised that her hand had been resting on his chest - his strong, defined… Y/N pulled her hand away awkwardly.

He caught it quickly and before the woman knew it she could feel his lips on hers, soft but insistent. He pulled away reluctantly, “Sorry, Y/N.” Hinawa knew she didn’t like him regularly but with her so close, with her looking at him like she could like him a little, he hadn’t been able to resist. Hands cupped his jaw and Y/N pressed a shy kiss to his mouth. It was all the man needed to deepen the kiss, his hand on her back brought her closer to his body and his hat fell to the floor as Y/N combed her fingers through his hair. He was so aware of her against him, relaxed for once and a comfortable weight as she leaned in further. Hinawa’s lips left hers reluctantly, he could have kissed her all evening but then his lips were moving down to her throat, sucking a light mark into her skin whilst her hands unzipped the top half of his jumpsuit and pushed it down over his arms to his waist.

Hinawa was about to return the favour, his fingers tugging the zip barely an inch before Y/N tensed and pulled away, “I can’t!” She removed herself from his lap and backed away, her expression was panicked and once more she found it impossible to look Hinawa in the eye, “I’m sorry, so sorry! I… I can’t!”

“It’s okay…” He was a little shocked in all honesty and his guard dropped, his hand hovered slightly as if he wanted to reach for her and his eyes were gentle as he tried not to take it to heart. “It was a little fast, I understand.”

“No,” she whispered and raised her eyes, “You don’t understand, Hinawa. I really like you.”

“What?” The Lieutenant wasn’t expecting that, he thought maybe she got caught up in the moment and was regretting it. She liked him?

Y/N bit her lip and her arms wrapped around herself a little as she shrunk back into the wall, “I don’t want you to see me… I don’t want you to see my burns.” It was what had kept her from doing anything about her crush, every day she had to see the discoloured, gnarled skin on her arm, her thigh, her hip, her stomach and chest and… she was hideous beneath her clothes. “I’m ugly.”

Things clicked into place, the way she always covered up even when it was hot, why she flinched or pulled away when people tried to touch anything but her head, even her reluctance to look him in the eyes most days. She liked him the same way he liked her but she had been frightened of his reaction - Not of Hinawa himself.

He was relieved.

Hinawa stood up and took her hand as he passed her, pulling her out of the office and down the hall toward her room, she didn’t have anyone to share it yet so she had the luxury of a private room. The Lieutenant figured she would be more comfortable in her room than his and when they got there he asked her to let him in. Y/N opened the door and flicked on the light inside, thankful she had tidied it earlier and made the bed. She slept on the bottom bunk and she had used a spare sheet hung from the top bunk to make a sort of curtain. “Lieutenant?”

“Takehisa.” He turned to face her, “Just for now, please, call me by my name.” Hinawa wasn’t good at confessions, he wasn’t good with feelings, they were confusing and messy, they go in the way of things and made life complicated - but he could be allowed this once, to be awkward and confused, right? “I like you, Y/N. From the second I saw you in Company 3 I knew I liked you. I was impressed by your service history, your mechanical skills and the compassion you had despite your entire company mocking you for it. I told you before but after I learned of your injuries, what you had gone through to save lives… being burned alive with no ability to protect you. Overcoming that experience and being strong enough to get up and keep fighting for innocent lives… You’re incredible. You’re brave, you’re strong and you’re beautiful! I don’t care what’s beneath your clothes or what you look like - You’re the most beautiful person I’ll ever meet, Y/N!”

Oh.

Y/N was stunned, her lips parted a little and she could feel her whole body warming up, his sincerity and straightforwardness knocked her off her feet and she didn’t know how to reply… she was happy though, so, so happy to hear those words from him. “Lieu… T-Takehisa…. thank you… thank you…” Tears sprang to her eyes and she pressed the heels of her hands to them, she didn’t want to look so pathetic in front of him. She felt his arms around her again and wrapped hers around his waist as she hit her face in his neck, “I like you too,” She mumbled into his skin, “I just need a little time before I’m ready to show you all of me…” Y/N pulled back just a little so that she could look at him properly, “Can you wait for me?”

“Can I keep kissing you until then?” She answered him by pressing their mouths together and letting her eyes slip shut.

Hinawa was a good man

– -

Obi smiled to himself as he placed Hinawa’s cap on the back of the man’s chair and took the untouched coffee to the kitchen to wash up - And Y/N said he wasn’t skilled at matchmaking.

#hinawa takehisa #reader #fire force

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Note

Have you ever seen those "dad reflexes" videos? With dads like swooping their kids out of the path of cars, bikes, animals- or doing lightening quick lunges to keep them from falling off tables and chairs and docks &stuff? I feel like I can absolutely see witcher dads just doing that. Like full on across the room one moment and then catching their falling kid the next. Or tuck n' rolling them out of the way of hourses and carts. Or doing the "foot-scoop" when their hands are full.

A/N: This has been in my ask box for a long time and I am so so glad that I finally could get around to finishing it!! We haven’t had any dad!witcher content and I’m positive this is just what I needed :) Here is my masterlist for more dad!witcher content and here is where to go if you’d like to be on any of my taglists!

***

Lambert

Today was one of those rare days that you had the chance to relax with your husband and daughter.

Lambert was finally back from a three week long hunting trip with Eskel, and the first thing that Eva suggested to do was have a picnic down by the lake.

You and Eva couldn’t travel alone beyond the walls of the keep. Not only was Lambert very against the idea of the two loves of his life being without him in the woods, but also the Blue Mountains were dangerous. Forktails and wyverns had a knack for moving into the wooded mountains, and nekkers and drowners had been known to wander around.

The young witcher didn’t like the idea of taking you both down to the lake, but it was hard to say no to Eva. When she was adamant on getting what she wanted, she knew how to play her cards right even at the tender age of four.

So now you three were on the dock down at the lake. You sat leaning against Lambert’s shoulder, listening to Eva rant about how Vesemir told her unicorns weren’t real. Lambert was watching her like a hawk, yellow eyes never leaving her as she moved around the dock. It was difficult to get her to stay still sometimes.

“It’s so good to have you back.” You murmured quietly, turning your head to look at the witcher.

He tore his eyes away from her, finding your gaze and offering you a smile.

“It’s good to be back.” He leaned forward to kiss you.

At the same time, he felt the boards on the dock move ever so slightly. She curiously moved towards the edge of the dock, spotting a turtle surface on the water.

Eva knelt down at the edge and leaned over.

“Mommy, look!”

She leaned over too much and lost her balance. Before she could fall head first into the water, Lambert caught her ankle, pulling away from you to focus on her.

“Eva!” You gasped, realizing what had almost happened.

Lambert pulled her up onto the dock and laid her down on her back.

“Eva, you can’t do that!” Lambert couldn’t help but raise his voice a little.

Eva giggled, sitting up and crawling over to the edge of the dock to look at the turtle.

You put your hand on Lambert’s arm, squeezing softly.

“She’s okay.” You told him, taking a steady deep breath.

“I swear, she’s going to give me a heart attack.” He mumbled.

Eva watched the turtle for a few more moments before it disappeared beneath the dock they were on. Then she stood up and turned to face Lambert, looking up at him silently.

“What do you want?” He scowled, somewhat irritated that she had made him worry so much.

She grinned mischievously and started to run towards him. He caught her in his arms and threw her into the air, the irritation dissolving as her giggles and squeals filled the air. Her delighted laughter made you smile.

“I think it’s time to go home.” You said, and Lambert agreed.

“Daddy, put me on your shoulders!” Eva squealed.

“Okay, okay. Hold on a second.”

Lambert placed Eva on her feet and then turned her around so her back was to him. From there, he could grab her by her hips and lift her up onto his shoulders.

“You ready, princess?” He asked her, looking up as best as he could.

She giggled and fisted her fingers in his hair.

“Little monster.” Lambert muttered, wincing when she pulled on the strands too hard.

You stuck close to Lambert, your arm wrapped around his as you started up the mountain.

Eskel

Eskel’s grip on your hand tightly a little as you moved through the market. It was busy and crowded, but you did your best to navigate through the swarms of people. Eskel held Nadia on his hip. The curious little toddler enjoyed all of the sights and sounds.

Usually you came to the market on your own or just with Nadia. The quiet witcher did not like the noise or being so close to so many people. But today, he decided to go with you.

“You deal with…. this every time?” Eskel asked.

“Yes.” You nodded, smiling softly as you looked over to him. “I quite like it.”

“I don’t.”

“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “I appreciate you coming with us today.”

“Had to get out of the house for a few.” His eyes followed everyone who walked too closely. “But now I’m sort of regretting it to be honest.”

“You can go back home, love. Nadia and I won’t be much longer.”

“No. I’ll stay.” He sighed.

“Down, daddy!” Nadia squealed, tugging on Eskel’s shirt.

He placed her on her feet and settled with holding her hand. He had to slow down in order to walk at her pace, but he didn’t mind.

“Go on ahead, doll.” He told you. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

“Are you sure?” You asked him, tilting your head to the side a little as you smiled down at your daughter.

“Positive.” Eskel put his hand on your arm and kissed your cheek.

You kissed him back and then leaned down to kiss Nadia’s head.

“I love you.”

“Love you.” She giggled.

Eskel watched you disappear through the crowd, his thumb rubbing over Nadia’s little knuckles.

“Daddy!” Nadia jumped up and down excitedly. He looked down to her, a little smile coming to his scarred lips.

Beneath his boots, the ground trembled. His ears picked up a noise, heavy breathing and hooves against dirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a brown figure moving towards him and his daughter. A donkey was running straight for them.

At the very last second, Eskel snatched Nadia up by her wrist, pulling her into his chest. Eskel’s other arm came up to wrap around her, holding her in the safety of his arms.

Her hands clutched his tunic, pulling at the dark red material.

Eskel could hear her heart racing, becoming frantic as she watched the donkey dart past.

“You okay, love?” Eskel rubbed her back, pressing a firm kiss to her head.

“Daddy!” She wailed and tucked her nose into his neck, tears springing from nowhere and trailing down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, Nadia.” He rubbed her back. “You’re okay, baby.”

“Where did mommy go?” Her words were muffled but he could still understand her.

“Let’s go find her.” Eskel suggested, feeling his own heart race. His hands felt a little shaky and he found the crowded street even more suffocating than before. With you no longer in his sight and Nadia almost being trampled, he needed something- someone -to calm him down.

The witcher followed your scent, finding you at a little stand that sold herbs. His hand found the small of your back.

You turned your head, smiling softly at him. However, that smile didn’t last long. Seeing his brows furrowed and a frown prominent on his scarred features, you knew something had happened.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, turning to him. You placed your hand on Nadia’s back, praying she was okay. Her head rested against his shoulder and she clung to him for dear life. Not even five minutes ago when you left them, she was cheerful and smiling as she walked alongside her father.

“There was a donkey.” Eskel explained quietly, turning his head to look at Nadia as best as he could.

“Is she okay?” Your brows drew together and you moved around Eskel to get a look at her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly and a little crinkle formed between her eyebrows. Her cheeks were red and tears dampened them.

“She wasn’t hurt. I think it just spooked her. It ran past us. I got her before it could get to her.

“Nadia?” You brushed a few pieces of her hair back out of her face.

She opened her eyes and reached out for you, her face scrunching up as she began to cry again.

“Oh, my love.” You took her from Eskel, holding her tight to you.

“I think it’s time we go home.” He said, his hand still on the small of your back.

“I have a few more things I need to get.” You told Eskel, frowning. To go all the way home without what you came for would be a waste of the pretty weather.

Eskel held your gaze for a few moments, trying to think of what to do.

“You’ll be okay here by yourself?”

“Yes.” You nodded your head.

“Okay.” He let out a little breath and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Be safe. We’ll see you at home.”

Geralt

The White Wolf glanced up from the cards in his hand, eyes finding Lambert. The young wolf held Bram on his hip with one arm as he crossed the room.

“Why don’t you sit down, Lambert?”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t need to be walking around with the little one.” Eskel placed his cards down for a moment to take a drink of ale.

“I wouldn’t drop him.” Lambert rolled his eyes. He looked down at his nephew, bouncing up and down just a little. “Besides, Bram loves his favorite uncle.”

Eskel snorted.

“You’d make me feel a lot more comfortable if you sat down, Lambert.” Geralt spoke up, keeping his gaze on his son.

“And you’d make me feel a lot more comfortable if you weren’t staring at me right now.” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Geralt muttered a few curses under his breath and looked at his cards.

Lambert took a seat at the table across from his brothers. He placed Bram down on the edge of the table. The toddler was happy there, chewing on a couple of his fingers.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to leave him there, Lambert.” Eskel said.

“He’s fine.” Lambert reached over for his tankard. “Who’s go is it?”

“Yours.” Geralt answered, eyes carefully watching Bram.

The toddler didn’t seem panicked being sat on the edge of the table. His balance was fine and he was content.

Geralt tried to relax. Lambert was right there and would stop anything from happening to Bram.

Time passed and the toddler seemed to be having fun climbing off of the table and then running around to the other side to climb back onto the table. He’d pause to say something to one of his uncles or to Geralt and sometimes to steal a card one of them had.

Bram developed a game of his own by doing this. He’d take a card from one of the witchers and give it to another.

But the little boy was getting too excited. He wasn’t watching where he was going as he walked across the table. He tripped over an empty tankard and would’ve fallen to the floor if Geralt had caught him. The White Wolf grabbed his son’s shirt, stopping the toddler from hitting the stone floor head first.

Geralt was on his feet in a heartbeat, setting Bram down on the floor on his feet. Geralt knelt down to inspect Bram, making sure he was okay.

“Shit.” Lambert cursed, standing up. He and Eskel both looked over their nephew, who just giggled and clapped his hands.

Geralt pulled Bram’s shirt back into place and let out a heavy breath, rubbing his brow.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Bram nodded, grinning mischievously.

“You need to be more careful.” Geralt told him as he stood up. He watched Bram climb up onto the bench next to Eskel and sit there quietly. The fall must’ve spooked him a little.

“Anything happens to him, Lambert, and I’m telling Y/N you let him walk on the table.”

“You what?”

Geralt turned around to face you. You stood in the doorway, arms crossed as you looked at your husband.

“Er, hello…. dove.”

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

See, How The Most Dangerous Thing Is Love

Where you go I'm going So jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you

She can’t stop running and, like an idiot, he keeps chasing.

warnings: i don’t think there is anything to warn against which seems odd... considering... but I did use some weird fucking metaphors and I don’t know if they make any sense...

Hotchniss

If the tension between Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss wasn’t apparent upon their reunion following Elle’s leave, it was painfully clear after Tobias. Eggshells be damned. He inquires around her compartmentalization, tone dark, and judging where JJ had just meant to build a bridge. He had aimed to tear one down. To remind her just how out of place she is in this unit.

There can only be one lone wolf in the pack.

“You came off of a desk job--”

She narrows her eyes, feet shifting. He’d come out of nowhere, as she’s finding he often does, and that just aggravates her even more. She’s a trained spy and Interpol agent, he shouldn’t be able to sneak up on her. The shield she throws between them does nothing when he already has his own firm in place. Feet planted in preparation for her attack.

Her revenge is sweet.

It starts with the way her back draws tight as a bow.

“No, stop. Stop. All right everybody right now-- what’s my worst quality?”

The flip of her dark hair, drawing the limp branch of a tree towards her chest. Poised ready to strike out towards him and the tight coil of childish glee derived from mischief in her chest. Her words the fiery snap of its release, the edge catches his cheek to leave an open, jagged wound. “You don’t trust women as much as men.” The room’s attention lays in the silence of that lashing. Their eyes watching the dark crimson of his blood trickle down his cheek.

And he wipes it away. Unflinching as he powers on. He can see it in their eyes, the way they keep looking back at the wound on his cheek. Thinking about the words and their implications. How they each drew back and laid into him with their strikes.

He can see it in Emily, the way she awaits her second chance. She’ll draw that branch back again. There are more branches, he suspects, in her forest of mistrust and impatience with him. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a few branches of his own he’d like to hit her with.

It is only in the most fundamental way that they trust one another.

“Don’t get me wrong, Johnny.”

A drop of sweat runs along his hairline and down the back of his neck. The heat of Alabama in August is worse than Virginia and even stripped of his suit jacket, the weather is insufferable. The rickety old pisshole of a house groans under the weight of the four adults standing in the attic. With no draft and dust covering every visible surface, it smells like something’s crawled up here and died. He suspects, if he were to look hard enough, he’d find that to be true.

Johnny and Mark Wrights have been murdering and raping teenage girls from the local high school. Grown men covered in grim and old denim-- the epitome of the white trash that comes to mind when they set out to solve these kinds of cases. It makes Hotch feel a deep shame for being raised anywhere near the south. Now, as he stands pinned to Johnny’s chest, the heavy scent of pig shit and sweat covering the man, he feels deep condemnation for the south.

He wants to get as far from this town as possible.

Prentiss’ gun is steady. As far as agents to come to have his back, he’s lucky that it’s her. Her brows raise a fraction when she steps into the room, surprised that it’s him. It takes him off guard that she’s choosing empathy with these men. She repeats her earlier statement. “Don’t get me wrong, boys,” she shakes her head and her eyes flicker to Hotch. “That’s my boss you have there.”

Johnny digs the barrel of his gun into Hotch’s face, the metal biting his flesh. He’s antsy. Emily must see that… surely, she must know that she won’t be able to talk her way out of this.

“Now,” she smirks. Her inflection has risen to nonchalance as if talking to a friend. Her shrug of indifference makes his chest feel dangerously tight. “He’s a dick,” she informs them. “Makes my life a living hell.” His eyes glued to her index finger. She’s talking and moving and if she’s distracted him with her words then she’s distracted the Unsubs too. “He’s got a little boy at home though,” her eyes flick to him.

He’s hit with a sudden understanding.

“So…” he watches her back once again. A bow, bending to snap. He ducks, this time, when her branch comes flying back at his face. Throwing his weight to the side, he takes Johnny by surprise, and before he can blink there are two quick shots that ring the end.

For a stunned moment, he’s laid out on his back. His eyes are on the ceiling just breathing and shaking.

She comes to stand at his side, offering him a hand up.

He takes it.

“Don’t,” she says before he can thank her. Her eyes are dark. She’s displeased. Not only with him and the stupidity that got them in this mess, to begin with, but for the girls. Emily had wanted to bring those girls justice. To sit at Johnny and Mark’s court hearings. To drink herself numb and to see them thrown in jail so they’d never see the light of day ever again.

Executed in the attack of some rickety old house just isn’t the same.

He nods his head.

They part ways.

But he can see her back.

And she sees his hands.

She lashes out and he pulls scabs apart. He agitates old wounds. His thumb works across his finger, picking at a scab, and then he draws blood and she watches as he dumbly looks down at his hands. As if he’s confused at why it would bleed.

A serial arson typically leaves little room for emotional collateral but, of course, he makes an exception. He digs his thumb into his finger, rubbing back and forth, voice breaking, and attention split as he makes connections that no one else sees. Gideon steps to his side, calming Hotch and stopping the trickle of blood over his callused hands. Holds his own hands over the wounds.

She sees that day, the scars that litter his ledger. The scabs… Aaron Hotchner is an open wound. He can’t let anything go. Won’t let the wounds heal. He needs the pain the way she needs the bows. She hates that she’s starting to understand this man that she hates so passionately.

Hearing him shout, the pain in his voice as he tears viciously after Evan Abby makes her falter. There he goes again, picking at wounds that should have healed. Who exactly is he saving? It’s not Abby. The man is a walking corpse, riddled with cancer. Watching as Hotch sinks into Morgan’s arms, his dread and hopelessness bringing him to his knees.

The blood falls down his hands.

But he picks at a wound that makes her bow and all is right, once again, in their little world.

“I want you on that plane with me.”

She finds him on a bender a few days later. The case is solved but that doesn’t mean she feels any better about the way that they left things. A boy swept up in their carnage-- “the boy brought me this last one. Didn’t even ask him to.” She sits down one barstool away from him and wonders if he’s thinking about that too.

But he’s scratching. Not at his hands but at the tumbler he twirls lazily around, mesmerized by the amber liquid in it. He throws what little is left into his mouth and grimaces, not at the taste but at the scab he’s just pulled free. She watches the blood fall.

He gets good at stopping her attacks.

“There’s nothing we could have done,” he breathes, the hurt in his voice the only reason she doesn’t shoot him down with a scowl. For some reason, he takes the seat across from her and pushes a coffee to her. She looks at the mug and then at him. His head dipped, eyes on the sludge he’s calling a peace treaty.

She wraps her hands around the mug. The effect of the warmth is immediate. “I know,” she admits, sipping at the liquid. God, that pisses her off. He always makes the coffee perfect. She can’t even make her coffee the way she likes.

He hums, shaking his head. “I think…” he glances at her and looks out the window. “I think I’m still trying to convince myself that.” The soft admission is so… unlike him. Where is the gruff push? The fire in his eyes. She finds only hard truth. Standing rooted where he is, he frowns with something he can’t convince himself isn’t worry.

Where does she go? Tonight, he will go home and find it empty. Which is fine because he can’t be around Haley and Jack on a night like this. He is no husband. No father. He needs to remind himself of the emptiness that is Aaron Hotchner. The pain and the torture. He’s not meant to be a father and he pushes his father’s legacy a little harder each day he pretends his marriage is a happy one.

If she can not get lost in these faux realities… What does she do?

Him. She does him.

For a month he convinces himself that he can fix the little pieces of his marriage but finds his hands covered in the jagged wounds of the glass carnage. As it turns out, some things simply refuse to go back together. He bleeds and bleeds and Emily, of all people, comes to mend his aches. Moving him away from the fragments, forcing him to let go.

The sex is harsh. He’s rough and she lets him. Urging him on with the roll of her own hips, his hair gripped tightly in her hand. They’ve hurt one another gravely and to know his weaknesses makes her that much better at drowning out his pleasure. She’s surprised to find that his mouth isn’t just good for smart ass remarks.

It sparks something deep within them both.

“Garcia thought she heard…” JJ tightens her mouth, forcing her smile down. She glances over at Garcia, the two sharing smiles that can’t be hidden. For the first time in a while, Garcia came with them on a case. Meaning their usual splitting of the rooms didn’t work so Emily, instead of rooming with JJ, roomed with Hotch.

Garcia smirks at Emily, “I just heard someone up last night.”

Emily knows exactly what they heard. She feigns innocence none-the-less. “Late?” she asks. “I was in bed as soon as we got back.” Which is true because she had Hotch pinned to the wall with a hand down his trousers before the door could swing completely shut behind them. It didn’t take long for him to flip the script and have her on the bed. “I doubt it was anyone from the team, weren’t you all exhausted?”

Garcia accepts that as an answer. For now, that’s reasonable enough. It’s rather silly, is it not, to assume something is going on between Hotch and Emily, of all people. They really sell their pitch with the heated, just under their breath, argument that they have only an hour later. Though it isn’t to save face but because he’s an asshole sleep-deprived and she’s, truly, exhausted for the same reason. JJ and Garcia both feel rather stupid for having thought the commotion the night before could be them.

Six months later, it happens again.

“We were arguing,” Emily offers with hefty-sigh. She’s not just selling her role. Lately, they’ve had to repeatedly come to a heated, uncomfortable debate. Their relationship, what it is and what is really isn’t, is being questioned. Are they enough to power through the last year? Should they be something that makes it through the next?

She rubs at her eyes, careful to keep her hair brushed over her neck. While she’d checked and double checked this morning for any marks on her neck, Hotch has been rather nippy (in all sense of that word) and the last thing she needs is explaining some rogue hickey he’s placed. Unlike him, she doesn’t have a high collar to hide behind.

JJ raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The two of them are going through something, the whole team has noticed. Though, if they’re honest, they don’t suspect the rocks and tumbles of a relationship getting onto its feet. They’re waiting for one of them to snap. Whether it be Emily, who will likely pack up her belongings and leave. Regardless of her love for the team. Hotch… well, he’s losing his grip on his so solidly built and reinforced shields. His pain and discontent are slipping through his armor.

“Arguing?”

Emily sighs, nodding. “He’s an asshole,” she mumbles. “What do you want me to say?” Her tone, tense and defensive, raises a little more attention than she meant it to. Lowering her head, she digs her fingers into her temples. She’s not sure if it’s better or worse that Hotch notices immediately as he walks into the room. There’s a tense moment, the two of them just staring at each other, before he clears his throat and jumps right back into the problem at hand.

The case always comes first. Their relationship after every other conceivable thing.

It makes sense, for them, until it doesn’t.

“This isn’t what you signed up for.”

Up until that moment, he’d considered himself hiding fairly well behind his scowl. Aaron is safely nestled where Hotch can’t hurt him and, what scares him even more, is how protected he is from Prentiss. Because Emily might have tears streaming down her face right now but he knows he’s looking at Prentiss. From the steel in her dark eyes to the conviction that feels, and is, so misplaced.

He swallows around the stupidity that tries to come fumbling out of his mouth. Something sentimental, foolish. “I don’t understand,” he manages. It has taken him his entire adult life to admit to that. To find the courage to say when he doesn’t follow and all for what? To sit here, at her hospital bedside, and grit out the confession. He can’t fucking say I love you but he can consume the poison of letting go.

To succumb where he should fight.

“Please,” she whispers, softly. But she hadn’t been the other half watching. Unable to do a damn thing while her screams, the muffled sounds of her body hitting the walls, had filled his head. He’d listened as Cyrus beat her. In a way, no he didn't sign up for this. No one in a relationship wants every thought about their partner to be about the end. Will it come soon? Leaving one partner to grieve the other longer than they knew each other? To answer to that mourning call-- what is left when all you are is taken? What parts of him are really her?

“If it’s what you want.” he rasps.

She turns her head, barring to him the sight of the bruise that takes up the right side of her jaw. That’s answer enough.

Dave takes her home from the hospital that evening, wondering what exactly it is that’s happened. He noticed the two of them today. He’s not stupid. “How are you feeling?” he asks, looking over at her on his passenger seat. Getting hurt happens but this is the first time she’s ever had to call someone to pick her up. Dave knows, in that way a parent knows that the silence of their children spells encroaching doom, who was supposed to drive her home tonight. One might call it, also, parental intuition.

She doesn’t lift her head from the window. Doesn’t even look at him. “Fine.”

Dave knows Hotch will answer with the same answer Monday when they return from the office.

Calling the two of them tense is an understatement.

Emily returns to work and they steer clear of her. The whispers follow her weary body around like a cloak. That she can manage. That is nothing.

It’s his absence that she feels.

Her coffee tastes odd. She’s grown used to the way that he makes it. Too strong and with no creamer but no matter what she does it just doesn’t taste the same. He’s even ruined tea. His mouth always tasted of Earl Grey or the bitter remnants of his coffee. Now, even smelling Earl Grey twists a knife within her. One she buried herself.

He’s fucking everywhere.

It’s driving her mad.

The worst part is that he’s not there.

In her bed, she rolls over. Throwing a leg over where his hips would usually be. She finds nothing but soft, used cotton. Not even the pillow carries the lingering scent of him.

His sweater hangs over a chair in her room but it’s absent of his warmth. She’s worn it too often and now she can’t even bring it to her face to pretend he’s here.

Nightmares plague her sleep and she wonders if this is penance for breaking his heart or if he’d just kept them away.

She watches, one night, as her nightmares crawl out of her ears sneer right back at her.

“Where’s Hotch?” Emily falls into step with JJ.

The blonde shrugs, “I called him twice. He’ll just have to meet us here when he wakes up.”

Though she falters, body stiffening and pausing, she tries to carry on unbothered. Seemingly unbothered by this progression. Hotch never lets his phone go to voicemail.

She’s the one that finds him four hours later. Lying supine, unresponsive in a hospital bed. The doctor’s words roll right off her, she takes in only that he will, eventually, be okay. And she wonders what it would have been like to really lose him. Not to just yearn for him but to not even avoid his eye in the hall. To hover with her finger over his contact and for there to be no possibility that he’ll answer.

Dead.

He could have died.

Stupidly, foolishly, she takes his hand. His eyes crack open and she pretends she doesn’t see his immediate relief followed far too closely by the pain. Physically brought on by the wounds of both her hands and Foyet’s. “I almost lost you,” she says.

He closes his eyes when she kisses him but when they pull apart he grimaces. Consciousness is painful, miserable. Her hand clutched by his, he manages a few weak breaths. Each one builds the strength to speak. “You can’t lose what you never had,” he answers, a moment later. By the time the cruelness of his truth has hit her, he’s slipped back under the drugs. His hand limp and clammy.

He’s right, though.

They both knew where he was coming in. The ins and outs of his embrace. That he’d pull her in and push her away in the same breath. Afraid, too afraid, to try at this again and, yet, he’d tried. He might not have had the strength to manage love but he’d held her through the nights. He knew her favorite foods and was never shy about tearing her apartment apart for missing the heating pad if she needed.

And what had she done for him?

She’d tricked him. Lured him in with the lies that she could do this. But she’s still drawn tightly. A bow that lashes out. Hurting others before they have a chance to hurt her and, as a result, she’s killed him more than Foyet could have dreamed.

Mostly, what he means is that she never allowed herself to have him. She never had him and, yet, she misses him every step of the way.

They have one another one last time.

She settles her hips over his and looks everywhere but the agitated, raised scars across his chest. He’s not cleared for strenuous activity but if he can’t have her, can’t feel her lips moving up his jaw and her fingers snaking up his side he’s certain that will kill him far sooner than any strain to his body. He’d rather die by her hand anyhow.

After that, there is no more, but it lingers thickly in the air.

She’s still Emily when her name comes out of his mouth. She still watches his lips, wondering if she were to capture them with her own if they would still taste the same. He looks for her first when things get dangerous and it’s his name she wakes up crying.

Haley dies. Emily puts distance between them but he still looks for her first.

“Please,” she places her hands on his chest. Forcing his body away even though just the feeling of her palms pressed to his chest sends yearning straight down her spine. “Aaron,” his name comes choked. “Please, if you knew me, if you had any idea of the things that I have done you’d run. I need you to run, don’t you understand that?”

He looks down at her, mouth open. Can she not see him? That he is a man made up of scars and scabs. A wound that bleeds. He picks and pokes and he bleeds all over everything. “I don’t run,” he says. He hadn’t run from the carnage of his marriage. Can’t she remember picking him up after that whole affair. Digging the glass from his hands where he’d stabbed and ripped himself to shreds to catch the falling debris of a life he thought he still had.

She deflates, sinking into the realization that her love is the worst thing for him right now. It’s a drug to him and she’s given him far too much. “I know,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Because you never know what’s good for you.”

His fingers ghost over her cheek and holds her face in his hand. “You let me decide what’s good for me,” he whispers. “I can protect myself, Emily.”

Not against this, she thinks. Not against her. He’s never known when to pull away and when to fight harder. It’s going to get him killed.

But it’s her laying on the ground, impaled, gasping for breath.

Hotch sees her blood all over Morgan’s hands. The hitch in the younger man’s choked breath as he recounts what happened. Attempting and failing to keep the details straight as he tells Hotch, in great detail, what happened. The way she’d lost reality for glimpses. Asked for him. Called out for Aaron, not Hotch, but Aaron. And Hotch doesn’t know what to say when Morgan rises to his feet and challenges-- “What the fuck was that about? What did you two do?”

But it’s fine because JJ comes out and places Morgan right back into his chair, silencing him with seven words. All hitting a little harder, too solidly across his shoulders. “She never made it off the table.”

Emily Prentiss never let herself love Aaron Hotchner but that never stopped him. And, in the end, she’d been there. Through Foyet, she’d been there. Where was he when she needed him?

He sends her to London with JJ, his goodbye rushed, and guilt.

She’s in London. He goes to Afghanistan. Neither make it home entirely alive.

She should have known.

Admittedly, she is a little wine drunk. Tipsy, really. Inhibitions lowered in the warmth of Dave’s living room. She’s missed them all so terribly that the ache of their absence being lifted has left her exhausted. She’d been in a near daze when she’d taken her wine and moved to the couch. Leaning into Dave’s side when he’d taken the seat beside her. While Jack and Henry recount the events of every day she’s missed according to their greatest accuracy.

Their silly little stories are well worth the soft laughter it draws from the others.

“Where are you going?”

So now, as she stands and leaves Dave’s side cold-- she’s not sure what she was expecting to find in the depths of his eyes but the fear is startling. “Water,” she says, holding up her empty glass. “Water and to pee, I’ve had way too much wine.” She tips the glass and winks at Jack. Trying her best to lighten the mood she hadn’t realized she’d tank just by standing.

Garcia peels herself from the chair she’s sharing with Morgan, ignoring the way he seems to startle at the aspect of losing her pressed into his side. “I’ll join you on the bathroom run, pumpkin,” she says, collecting her glass and Morgan’s from the table at their side. “Another drink, my chunky hunky?”

Morgan smirks but shakes his head, “no thanks, Baby Girl. Someone has to be sober for the drive home.”

As good as that plan sounds, Hotch still grunts. The room’s attention shifting to their leader. He’s been startlingly silent, even for him, all afternoon. Seemingly tucked away from every encounter they’ve had amongst themselves. “You’ve all had too much to drink to drive home,” he says. “You should… calls cabs.” The strength of his interjection leaves his voice as Emily meets his eyes. He lowers his gaze and with it, the point of his statement.

Dave does not fail to notice this. Clearing his throat, he agrees. “I’ll go call your cabs.” He stands, rubbing a hand down his face. Fingers working into the creases of his lips. “Aaron,” he nods his old friend over. “Give me a hand?”

That sets about the motion of the room.

Emily’s making her way down the hall when Garcia catches her. “What is it,” Emily asks, playfully. She waits for Garcia to catch up to her, holding out her hand for what she’s expecting to be a trip full of the secrets of her and Derek’s relationship. Something good. A win.

“Can you make him stay?”

Emily desperately wants to pull from Garcia’s hold. Her grip is intense, desperate. She tries to pull away from Garcia’s hold. “What?” she asks softly, looking over her shoulder for some help. “Who? Who needs to stay?”

The desperation in Garcia’s eyes is unsettling. She lowers her voice even more pulling them closer. Her voice breaks as she says it. Tears swelling and running against the mascara over her eyelashes-- “Hotch.” She clenches her teeth, showing the most self-restraint Emily’s seen since they stepped foot in this hall. “He left us,” she breathes, sadly. “A month after you were gone. I went to his office--” her eyes dart as she speaks. “I started bringing him coffee every morning to cheer him up.”

Emily swallows thickly around the guilt that creeps up. Her death had broken them. She’d known that, of course. She just hadn’t considered Hotch. Brave and strong and it’s so hard to tell when he’s hurting. Then to bare her lie? Another cross on his back. More weight on his shoulders.

“I went in--” the tears fall as Garcia’s voice shakes. “He wasn’t there. He’d cleaned his office up and you know how he is.” That big oak desk is always littered with paperwork. One side to the other. He stacks it everywhere. Leaving pens from one end of the room to the other. You can’t even sit on that old couch of his without getting stabbed in the ass by a pen he’s lost. “Clean,” Garcia whispers. “He just left, in the middle of the night. By the time we came in, by the time we could find him he was already over there. Afghanistan.”

The word makes Emily’s chest tighten. What the hell could he be doing over there? That station is always looking for profilers but it’s a death trap. Hotch had said it himself, warning her when they’d sent her the special request. They’ve been operational for five years and gone through seven profilers. All of which have died. No one makes it out of that station alive.

And he’d gone.

“Why would--” she doesn’t even want to finish the question. Doesn't want to put the truth into action. Admit that she knows exactly why he did it.

At least over there he’d die a hero. Leave his son a flag and another parent to bury.

It’s faster than anything he could swallow over here.

Garcia squeezes Emily’s arm, bringing her back to the present moment. To the thing in question. “Can you bring him back,” she whispers frantically. “Can you make him stay?”

Emily doesn’t honestly know. Has she ever been able to make him do anything? “Garcia, I--” Her mouth snaps shut as the man in question steps into the hall. His eyes dart between them and Emily feels rather like a mouse caught in a trap.

He clears his throat and scratches uncertainly at the beard he’s let grow back in. “I was just…” he looks at Garcia and then back at Emily. Clearly caught off guard. “Dave-- I… You’re, ah, the hotel is close to me. I thought I’d save you the cab fare if you wanted to ride back--”

“Yes.” Emily nods, far too quickly. “Thanks,” she says, looking anywhere but at him. “I’d, ugh, I’d appreciate that.”

Hotch looks between Garcia and Emily, before nodding and ducking his head. He leaves the hall, with a slightly awkward nod and steps out. Hands going to his pocket. Hiding.

“Will you try,” Garcia whispers.

Emily watches him walk away. The apprehension in his hesitant movements. His hand scratching at the back of his head until he can hide behind the shield of Jack’s eager talking. Sinking down beside the boy on the couch and hiding himself there. “I don’t know,” she admits, honestly.

The only person that can pull him from the ledge is Hotch and she’s seen him toe it once before.

Packing things up is simple enough.

Hotch stands towards the edge of the hall, Jack slowly falling asleep in his arms.

“Sleepy,” Emily asks Jack, running her fingers through his soft brown hair. Jack shakes his head but doesn’t raise it from Hotch’s shoulder. Hotch has wrapped him in his jacket rather than choosing to fight the boy into it. It’s more a blanket. She pulls it up around him a little better. “You’re not tired,” she asks. “I am. I can’t wait to get to bed.”

Jack smiles but doesn’t admit to the exhaustion weighing his little bones down. “Are you gonna sleep with us?” he asks. He looks down at her with the soft of his father’s. Same impossible depth is hidden behind light brown iris’. It breaks her heart to see the turmoil within him.

Emily frowns but she’s not forced to tell the little boy no. Instead, Hotch’s hand comes to the back of his head. Cupping his neck as Hotch turns to face her. “You don’t have to do anything,” he clarifies with an all too familiar look in his eyes. Mischief. A plan. “We do have the guest room. With clean sheets. You could come home with us.”

Home.

To a real bed.

“I…” she can’t force out the polite no her mother has solidified in her mind the answer to be. No because that’s not fair or right or-- she really wants to sleep in a normal bed.

He bumps her shoulder, “just say yes.”

She looks at him and then at Jack. It’s not a hard thing to want to go home with the two of them. After Foyet, she’d spent many nights camped out on their couch. Waiting for father or son to wake in a panic. He’d done the same in the hospital after Doyle, sleeping on an uncomfortable little cot just so the first thing she saw each time she woke up was someone she knew.

Now it’s different. The dynamic has changed. While he might not know the course of the night has changed, she does.

She just doesn’t know it’s a futile battle.

There is no use fighting over stupid things like sleeping. He tucks Jack into his bed and meets her in his room. She’s already pulled on his shirts over her head. Refraining, forcing herself from burying her face in the material.

It doesn’t stop her from curling into bed beside him. Pressing her face into his shoulder and focusing solely on his hand slipping under her shirt. “You tired…” he asks. She shakes her head. He hums as he thinks. Dragging his thumb over her hip bone, stroking the soft skin. “First crush,” he whispers, ghosting his lips over her neck.

She laughs at that, twisting in his grip to tilt her hips across his. Settling closer to his chest. Drawing her hand up she draws against his skin. “This girl named…” she taps at his chest as she fails to remember the girl’s name. “I can’t remember her name,” she admits, faintly. Blushing. “Does that surprise you?”

Hotch’s eyes have slipped shut, his face turned into her hair. He hums, scrunching his eyebrows. “Surprised about what,” he asks softly. “That you can’t remember her name or that it’s a she?” He pulls her closer, wrapping an arm around her hips.

Emily just… looks at him. He hasn’t even opened his eyes. He’s not even going to comment? She bites her lip and lowers her head back down. “What about you?”

“None. It’s… I’ve only ever--” he blushes, averting his eyes. “Only Haley and you.” He clears his throat… “That’s why I always tried,” he whispers. “Why I tried so hard…”

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” she defends, pulling away from his embrace. “I was trying to protect you from this whole mess. You’re the one who didn’t know when to stop.”

“I don’t know where you get off blaming me,” he says, pulling himself away. He sits up in the bed, turning himself so she can sit and stare at the wall of his back. Little scars marking up his back as he places his arms on his knees. “You ran, Emily. Every single time, you run. Not me.”

Neither look at the other.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he announces. “Stay. Don’t make me explain to Jack why you’re not here in the morning.”

She stays where she is. She turns this over in her mind. His words are an open palm slap to the face. She sleeps in his bed, holding onto his pillow and burying her face into the scent. She doesn’t leave but only because she doesn’t want to have to walk past him. This feels like winning so she stays. She eats breakfast with them in the morning, playing and laughing with Jack like she always has.

Like she always does.

“I leave Thursday, if you care.”

She says nothing which is perfect because he’s not sure he can handle anything she might think of.

She knows, without having to be told, that they blame her for not being to keep him here. And, maybe it’s her fault, because she didn’t really try, did she? She did what also does, she hurt him. Now she’s sitting here all alone, wondering what she could have done differently.

Everything.

“We’ll see you when you get home.”

She stands at the back of the group, watching the other’s pull him into hugs. Dave holds Hotch for a long moment, speaking softly so only the two of them can hear what’s being exchanged. Hotch pulls away from that hug with tears falling down his cheeks. “Don’t make me bury another son, Aaron. Please be careful.” And that’s when he sees her.

Derek pushes her forward and she feels all of them watching as she makes her way to him.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he confesses. He doesn’t care that the others are watching. They know enough. They’ve always known.

She feels guilty and she should. “You told me goodbye,” she reminds him. He’d kissed her right before they sent her to London with a packet of new names and passports. To be someone other than Emily. For a second chance. “It--” she looks away. She’s running, again, she knows. And she has to stop running. “It was the only thing that kept me alive, Aaron. I couldn’t let you leave without having told you the truth--”’

He glances up and back to her. Just for a moment, he wonders if the others should be hearing all this but--maybe they’re past all that. Pretending is how people get killed, they learned that with Emily, and he really doesn’t feel like being their repeat.

“I love you,” she confesses. “I know you love me, you always have. I’m sorry that I keep--” fucking it up. “I love you and I need you to come home, okay? So I can stop running.”

He doesn’t believe her. He wants to believe her but everything about Emily Prentiss always hurts and he knows it’s stupid to trust her. “Okay,” he says, afraid anything more will send her for the hills before he can even leave the country. And like an idiot, he bends his neck into her touch. Letting her rise up on her toes to kiss him. “I promise,” he whispers.

Jessica gets the call at midnight. The Bachelor finale had ended hours ago but she’d been sucked into some History channel rerun about ancient Mesopotamia. It’s the haze of the light hour, the warmth of the undertones of sand, the steady deep voice narrating, and the blanket curled around her shoulders that puts her to sleep. She doesn’t stand a chance after the day she’s had.

The call comes at 12:34 and the urgent ringing of her cell-phone makes her heart kick painfully at her chest. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand, she accepts the call without looking to see who it is. Not that her tired eyes would have recognized the caller anyway.

Not serving as a soldier, the process for notifying the family of any health changes requires a different take. For Aaron Hotchner, it’s put into the FBI’s hand. He’s their tool after all, not the US Army’s.

“I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am,” the voice offers.

Jessica scowls at the formality, sitting up on the couch and desperately searching for the remote. She kills the screen and the room is bathed in silence, aiding her ability to understand and think about what’s going on. “Ugh, can I help you?” She pushes her hair up out of her face, searching the ground and coffee table for a spare hair tie.

“I’m calling in regards to Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I understand this number is supposed to be the personal line of Jessica Brookes? You’re his emergency contact--”

He deployed in October. Giving her only a week’s heads-up. He’d had the decency to look ashamed of himself, of the state of being he’s caused for them all. She’d understood his situation. Losing his friend had broken him irreparably and he’d wanted to talk about that even less than he had Haley. At least he’d warned her, she knows he hadn’t extended his team the same courtesy.

The man on the line goes on. Something about moving bases and a promise to get back to her as soon as possible.

“Thank you for your service,” the man concludes.

Jessica blinks, frowning at the phrasing. Aaron wasn’t serving. He was punishing himself. This was penance.

“Goodnight.”

She sits back on the couch, eyes vacantly taking in the wall in front of her. He’s on his way home. That’s good but she can’t help but… he’s hurt. Hurt enough for them to discard him back here. How bad is it?

Emily can’t deny her horror.

His eyes move to the blanket. To the empty space of where his limb once was. “It’s… It’s just a leg,” he whispers. He blinks heavily once, twice, and sighs softly as he fails to keep his eyes open. Humming, he parts his chapped lips but can’t find any more words. He’s too tired. “Could be…” his voice slurs and he exhales a heavy breath. “...worse.”

Emily wants to hit him but she’s done being defensive. She’s tired of being the first one to pull away. For once, she just needs to be the one that holds onto a hug a little longer. That lingers. “You could have died,” she whispers thickly. Gently, hesitantly she touches his hand. To her surprise he is the one to move, intertwining their fingers. She sits by his side, eyes glued the empty part of the bed. The nothing of where his leg is supposed to be. Does it really matter that much, though? A single leg?

Not to her. She’s had months to pretend. Every night she has escaped to a new reality with him. Come up with every variety of reality that might occur. What she’d do if he’d come perfectly fine and how they’d have kids and he’d never wake in the middle of the night with nightmares because she’d kill his monsters. How she would cope if he came home horribly disfigured or entirely different. Would it matter? They’d still be Aaron and Emily.

“I’ll never walk again,” he informs her. His head is tilted into the pillows, casually watching his news wash over her. He wants to know if she’ll stay if he can’t go. If all these years were about the chase, would she stay if he can no longer follow?

She sits down in the chair pulled up to the side of the bed. People have been in and out all afternoon but she’s the first one to receive this news. The other’s don’t really matter because he knows the script, can imagine how each of them react. Garcia will cry. JJ will too but not until she’s leaving. Dave will take it well but he’ll utter something strangely sentimental and sober with the realization that walking was never the priority of Hotch coming home. Morgan and Reid are his wild cards and he doesn’t want to tell them at all. But that’s just not how this works.

“At least you won’t go running off on me.”

He knows what she means, the implication and the diversion. With a huff he raises an eyebrow, “I’ve never been a runner, Emily.”

Emily.

No, she supposes, he never has. “If you can’t run,” she says, heart skipping around in her chest. She feels it pulsing in her throat, tossing itself around in her stomach. “If you can’t run then I won’t run.” She stands, swallowing thickly around the swell of fear in her throat. He watches her, looking up at her as she hovers for just a moment. When she kisses him there are no sparks. Something cold, icy runs it’s fingers into the grooves of her spine but she’s not gripped by any startling realizations.

It’s too late for that.

But he tastes like Aaron and to a girl who’s never had a home in one place, she’s only ever running. Here, against him, she knows what people mean they say a person can be a home. Because she wants to curl into him and forget the edges of Emily. Aaron. It’s always been Aaron.

It surprises him that she stays. She waited until things got hard.

“I’m going to have to go to physical therapy every week.”

She shrugs, “I’ve got a library of books waiting for me to read them. I’ll tackle my reading list.”

“I can’t walk,” he reminds her.

She raises an eyebrow, “so? I didn’t love you before because of your ability to walk.”

“Emily--” he needs her to understand this isn’t as easy as she’s making it. Using the bathroom, showering, sex isn’t even going to be easy. She can’t just brush it off like it’s not going to bother her. It’s bothering him! “Emily, I can’t hold your hand when we go downtown. I’m going to need your help taking a shower and getting to the bathroom. I’m going to have to look for a new apartment because the one I have, there’s no way I can work a wheelchair around in it. It’s-- I’m not the same! We’re not the same!”

She knows. Yesterday she asked Morgan to rig up something in the bathroom. She spent hours with Morgan trying to put a handle or a rail in beside the toilet without ruining the wall. Ordered a shower chair last week that Morgan is probably putting together right now. Garcia and JJ are looking for apartments with larger floor plans because she doesn’t want to be presumptuous and assume he’d want to move into a house with her. But she’s waiting for the right time to bring it up.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” she says. “That we’re not the same. I’m different too.” Does she need to create her own list? Dedicating it all to words for him to comb over. She can’t sleep through the night. Even though it had been a wooden stake that had “killed” she can’t hold a knife. Her hands tremble, this weakness she can’t explain. Her abdomen is just scars, riddled with ugly skin hardened by trauma. Is he prepared to see that?

“Look at me,” she says, squeezing his hand. “It’s been me and you for years. You’re the only thing I really know. So, I’ll take you as you come. However you come. You loved me when I ran, I can love you with a little baggage.”

He frowns, trying to find an out. Not or himself but for her. But she’s unwavering. “Baggage,” he finally caves. He smirks, shaking his head. “Of all the words in the language you know and you pick baggage?”

She cringes, shrugging, “I didn’t really think about it. It just came out.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

She smiles, “you love it.”

He hesitates for a moment but nods, “I do.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss

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hobiiwan · 3 years

Text

tethered • o.k

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x mechanic!reader

summary: obi-wan returns after too long spent on the battlefield, away from where he’s meant to be

warnings: kinda angsty, alcohol use @ new year’s, fluff mostly

word count: 6k

notes: happy secret santa! @starwarssecretsanta @stars-trash-18 i really hope you like your gift! this is the first time i’ve written anything this long so hopefully it turned out alright! biggest thanks to @lilhawkeye3 for organising this! have a safe holiday, no matter what you celebrate~

If there was one thing you would never understand, it would be why Coruscant was so damned cold. The Galactic City enjoyed warm, balmy weather all year long. The underworld, on the other hand, not so much. The morning chill was the type to seep into your bones, the sort that no amount of layers could shut out, even with the radiators turned to the max. Not that you had much chance to complain, especially not on the days, which were most, spent on a creeper, wrench in hand.

Working occupies your mind. You easily fall back into the same routine you’ve been following for as long as you can remember—replace, tighten, oil. It doesn’t hurt that it pays, nor the fact that it keeps your mind from drifting. To him.

A client pulls into the garage, speeder releasing a puff of ash-grey smoke. Your eyes linger on the doorway.

The underside of the standard speeder became your new sky, replacing the one you didn’t get many chances to see. It was easier not to venture to the upper levels, you learned, knowing the return to the chaos underneath was inevitable.

Still, you don’t spend years in the lower levels without learning a thing or two. It had its charms which, if you kept your valuables close, could be somewhat appreciated. Not much could be said about the sunrise, but watching the street vendors gradually open shop for the day, the glowing signs relighting after a night and the city waking—the underworld had its moments.

Though, it’s best not to overlook the obscure corners. The best thing about living in the underworld was the unpredictability. If you’re handy with a blaster and keep your head down, that is. It keeps things entertaining, on the days where you could afford time off.

Admittedly, a Jedi blasting open your garage door at the asscrack of dawn would definitely equate to ‘unpredictable’.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The man is midway through clambering out of the now-crashed speeder. He turns, only to meet the barrel of your blaster. A shit-eating smirk graces his lips as he brushes the auburn hair out of his eyes and regards you nonchalantly.

“My apologies, miss,” the man says, head lowered in a slight bow, “I must admit, though I do enjoy making an entrance, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Your eyes scan the man before you. The long, beige robes and the mechanical cylinder hanging at hip-level, clipped to his belt. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise a Jedi, especially when chaos follows. A handsome one, yet a Jedi nonetheless.

Your gaze narrows. “Do you have a reason for crashing into my shop, or is this just more ‘Jedi business’?” The venom laced in your tone is hard to miss. The message is clear - Jedi aren’t taken to well in the underworld.

He huffs, raising a hand to gesture to the steaming, sparking mess laying in the middle of your shop. “I’ve had an accident.”

Your eyes roll without a second thought, “I can see that.”

“I need transportation to get back to the Galactic City as quickly as possible,” he states, voice overtaken by a firm, well-versed timbre. “Would you happen to offer any of the sort?”

Your arms cross over your chest. There would be nothing more satisfying than throwing out a Jedi to the underworld streets with no way back to the surface. He can walk, for all you care, but fuck. You’re short on funds.

Your gaze drifts to your own speeder sitting proudly in the corner as you gnaw your lip hesitantly. The mangled mess he’s brought in is a lost cause—that much is certain. Your pit droid confirms this with a series of beeps, orbiting helplessly around the crash. There’s no way he’ll be getting out on that.

Begrudgingly, you stalk over to fetch the keys to your own vehicle. “It’ll cost you,” you grumble, tossing the keys to which the man catches with ease. “If there’s even a hair of a scratch, I’ll throttle you myself, Jedi.”

The man grins triumphantly, and slides into the driver’s seat. You instantly regret your decision when your eyes meet his. “My name is Obi-wan,” he hums, pulling the speeder out of the driveway, “your speeder is in good hands! We’ll be back in no time.”

Those credits better be worth it.

It’s a few days later, when the sensor over your doorway rings out in a chime you’ve memorised by now. Half of your torso is obscured by a banged-up thrust pod, but the droid at your feet is going crazy.

You hear it before you get to see it, but the spluttering of an engine is unmistakable and you perk up at the prospect of a new repair. That hope, however, is quickly shot out of the sky when you catch sight of the source of the noise.

The grip on the wrench in your hand tightens a noticeable notch as the Jedi brings your speeder to a halt. The layer of painted coating has been chipped away in a long streak along its side, revealing the steel underneath. The navcomp is long gone, a wide, burnt crack singeing across the controls.

Obi-wan grins a sheepish one when your eye twitches, surveying the faulty engine that makes the speeder tilt on its side.

“What am I looking at?” Your voice is disturbingly calm, not even an inkling of what he knows is rage in its purest form to be seen.

Obi-wan inhales as his gaze flickers to the wrench curled in your fist and chuckles hesitantly, “Your speeder, of course. I did say we’d be back.”

“No,” you snap, wrist raising so the wrench is inches from his chest, “my speeder was alive and well when it left my shop three days ago. So, do tell me, Jedi,” you hiss, “what have you brought back?”

The man, indifferent to the weapon directed at him, climbs out of the wreck gracefully to stand before you. “Unfortunately, we got into a bit of an accident,” he says, “but you’ll be happy to know your speeder greatly contributed to the capture of a fugitive of the Republic.”

It takes every fibre in your being to resist the urge to lunge when he nonchalantly reaches up to brush the strand of hair fallen across his forehead.

“I don’t give a damn about a fugitive,” you seethe, “you owe me a new speeder! And double the credits!”

Obi-wan’s mouth opens to bargain, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance to negotiate.

“You know what—triple it!” Your arms cross over your chest and the droid follows suit, ushering the Jedi in the direction of the exit. If looks could kill, Obi-wan Kenobi would be dead three times over in four different galaxies.

He bows his head, gaze sweeping across your garage, “I’m afraid I don’t currently have such funds—”

Your eyes roll in indignation.

“—perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement?”

The wrench goes flying.

The holonews plays distantly in the background while you work, filling up the hollow silence in every nook of your mech shop. Silence is a killer in the underworld; it’s important to let people know there’s someone home—burglars not welcome.

You’re halfway through wiping your hands clean of grease when the blue Twi’lek reporter’s perky demeanor dissolves into a still of a battleground.

Felucia, the woman says, as more holos of piles upon piles of B-1 droids flash across the screen. Your breath catches in your throat and the air in the garage hangs heavy. That’s good news right? Droids in piles usually mean there aren’t as many troop casualties. There’s no mention of a General either, so you let out a breath of relief.

Celebrating early is a curse, because the reporter’s next words steal the air right out of your lungs.

“We have lost all contact with our journalist on the Felucia front, as last transmissions report a sudden aerial ambush. The fates of the GAR troops remain unknown.”

The report moves onto the next spectacle, but you’ve stopped listening. The holonews is wordlessly shut off, and you turn to working in silence, heart clenching painful in your chest, as if the very same battle droids had wrapped their cold, dead steel handpieces around it.

The reporter’s words don’t leave you easily. The fates of the GAR troops remain unknown.

Is threatening a Jedi Master a crime? Obi-wan isn’t sure, but he definitely thinks it should be. You’ve made your rage painstakingly clear and Maker, if he had a credit for every threat you spewed, he would have paid you back by now.

It’s late one night when Obi-wan finds himself in the underworld once more. It’s perpetually dark and most people have retired for the night, save the rowdy chaos stemming from the back-street cantinas.

The neon logo of your mechanic shop emerges as he rounds the corner and he winces at the singe marks on your driveway. He must get around to apologising for that. The sharp smell of paint makes him wrinkle his nose when he walks in, spotting you in the far corner.

“This, here, is R4,” the Jedi says, announcing his arrival, “I suspect she has some loose wiring.”

Obi-wan can’t pretend the way your jaw clenches at the sound of his voice isn’t the least bit amusing. Your turn to face him with an air of annoyance.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Kenobi?” You grumble, and his eyes drift from the bucket of silver paint by your boots, then over your shoulder to the refurbished speeder he had left behind the last time.

“I certainly do,” he hums, hand smoothing over his beard appreciatively, “it looks good as new.”

You scoff, arms crossing over your chest, “no thanks to you.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he says, nodding to the astromech hovering at his side, who beeps in greeting, “to repay my debt.”

The side of your mouth quirks up as you move closer, regarding the droid, “Is this what you call repaying your debt? Giving me more work?”

Obi-wan’s jaw goes slack, eyebrows raising at the way you and R4 share the same expression, even with one having no facial indicators. Though, he catches himself before the stare you receive from him can be construed as anything other than bewildered. “That was not my intention—” He starts, but you cut him off with a wave and a gratified smirk.

“It was a joke, Obi-wan,” you sigh, leading R4 to the station on the opposite side of the room, leaving the man gaping after you. “Are all Jedi so gullible?”

He huffs and leans against the wall as you do a quick once-over of his droid. You flitter around R4, retrieving all the equipment you need for the impending checks. You look rightfully in your element.

“Were all the mechanics up in the Galactic City unavailable?” You question, eyes briefly flickering up to meet his before returning to unscrewing R4’s bolts. You miss the look Obi-wan shoots the droid who whirs in response.

“Not necessarily,” he coughs and suddenly, the gears hanging on your wall are the most interesting thing in the world, “I just haven’t gotten around to crashing their prized speeders yet.”

Your gaze narrows when you stand, but the menace is absent this time around. “I’ve replaced some of R4’s older wires. She was close to short-circuiting,” you remind sharply, contrasting your fond patting of R4, “and stars, Kenobi, it wouldn’t kill you to oil her joints once in a while.”

“Order received,” the man bows his head sheepishly, dropping the credits on your counter, “though for R4’s sake, you may consider teaching me how to.”

You see Obi-wan out, mostly to bid his droid farewell. “Don’t push it, Jedi,” you simper, “I could still cut your brakes.”

He chuckles at that, reaching a hand up to thread through his hair. Obi-wan grins with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “then I’ll have no choice but to come back to repair it.”

Obi-wan Kenobi—master charmer of the Jedi Order.

The roof of your garage makes for a good stargazing spot. You use the term stargazing very loosely. The stars, in this case, are the blinking lights of the speeders hovering in the air.

It’s certainly not the nicest spot in all of Coruscant, but it’s yours. The whole building is, at that, which is saying something considering you live in the underworld.

You live close enough to the surface that sitting on your roof gives you a clear enough view of the portal leading to the Galactic City and the minuscule amount of light it brings. The starships lower and rise through the massive ventilation shaft and you catch yourself hoping to see a familiar one.

It’s hopeless, obviously, you’re too far away to see anything, anyway. Still, you can’t stop your eyes from flickering to the traffic leading into the underworld.

Maybe this time it’ll be his ship.

One last look. Your heart sinks. Turning back, you head down the ladder. Alone.

Obi-wan gauges that you don’t despise him as much as you let on about the umpteenth time he visits.

You regard him with a quirked eyebrow and arms crossed over your chest, your default stance whenever he’s around, which is becoming rather frequent, you notice.

“You want me to go up to the surface with you?”

The man nods, hands clasped dutifully behind him. “That is, in fact, what I said.”

He’s dressed, once again, in those beige Jedi robes. His beard’s gotten thicker, you note. It’s been a while.

“What for?” You question, intrigue piquing as you step closer to Obi-wan. It’s been even longer since you’ve been to the city. You tell yourself it’s because you have no reason to be up there anyway, but the thought lingers.

“To celebrate,” Obi-wan shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the galaxy, “it’s a new cycle.”

You hum, turning back to rummage through your cabinets, the way you had been doing when he had first arrived. “I’m aware.”

Obi-wan remains silent behind you, but he’s relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as he leans against the wall agreeably. We can’t have that, you think.

“Don’t you have certain Jedi duties to attend to?” you hum, tossing an half-hearted glance over your shoulder, only to find his knowing smirk. Gods, he’s irritating. Yet, you let him be.

“According to the Chancellor, I’ve shaken enough hands for tonight,” he answers and his voice is laced with poorly-masked satisfaction, “my evening is open for meditation.”

“—unless you take me up on my offer, of course.”

You shouldn’t. There’s so much work to be done in the garage, but as you look around, everything’s been taken care of. Sometimes, you’re too efficient at what you do. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to spend the end of this cycle not alone, for once.

“That depends,” you chide, but Obi-wan sees through it clear as day. He raises a hand to brush over his chin, effectively masking the smile beneath his palm.

“-I wouldn’t want to keep a Jedi Master from his meditation.”

Hours later, the two of you find yourselves on the viewing deck of a skyscraper. The journey there is a blur, since you spent most of it up to this point marvelling at the city.

It’s so much brighter than you remember.

You can barely tell the time—the sky’s been completely lit up by miles of gleaming lights. The irony is not lost on you—how the Galactic City illuminated is one worthy of the stars while the underworld sees only darkness even on Coruscant’s sunniest days.

The buildings are denser, packed so tight you could easily cross over into the adjacent balcony. You consider it genuinely for a moment, though pressed so close to Obi-wan’s side, the thought dissolves just as quickly as it comes.

The viewing deck extends to a cantina, where you squeeze past the bodies pushing against you until you finally reach the bar.

Obi-wan watches pensively as you fall back against a stool and flag down the bartender. “So, Kenobi,” you swivel around to eye the man who has arrived to hover behind you, “how did a Jedi come to find this place?”

“Jedi business brings us to all reaches of the galaxy and this place happens to be one of them,” Obi-wan replies simply, as if dangling bait in front of you to ask more.Jedi business, he says.

Nevertheless, you take the bait. “What sort of Jedi business?”

Obi-wan’s eyes widen, taken aback. He’s never had to answer that question before— most people he came across were either Jedi themselves, or correspondents. He’s not sure what he’s even allowed to tell you.

“If you tell me, will you have to kill me?” You jest as he takes a generous gulp of his own drink. You don’t suppose Jedi business to be confidential, though with the current political climate, perhaps it has become just that.

It’s obvious he’s still contemplating your question, but you quickly steer him away from work.

“Where do you hope to be a year from now?” You ask, toying with the glass in hand, pondering your own answer while he does the same. Maker, hopefully not on this forsaken planet any longer.

Sure, you’ve been on Coruscant as long as you can remember and most of it has been spent in the underworld, but it stopped feeling like home even before that.

He hums thoughtfully and takes a sip of his own drink before responding. “Still serving the Order, of course,” he says. Obi-wan pauses and the air stills, as if the words unspoken in his throat have tainted it.

“—though I fear I sense impending conflict in our future.”

Your brows raise as his lips fall into a grim line. “Oh? Do tell.”

Obi-wan shakes his head, as if doing so will clear the atmosphere of the words he had spoken. Recently, he finds himself saying more than he means to.

“I just hope peace will be kept in our galaxy. But for now, I think we should celebrate a year gone by.”

A statement you can get behind.

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” you grin, downing a generous swing of (what remains of) your drink. You wince at the burn, but stars, if that isn’t better than anything you’ve had in the underworld.

Obi-wan chuckles, a sound nearly drowned out by the crowd of cantina patrons. “You drink to everything.”

You nod, exuberant, before swiping another glass of deep blue liquid off a passing tray. “Cheers!”

Further into the night, your body start to heat up, the pleasant tingles crawling from your fingertips all the way to your chest.

In the dim lighting of the cantina, the edges of your vision go fuzzy and Obi-wan becomes just a bit more handsome, though it’s unclear how much of that is due to the alcohol.

The room begins to empty, most people pushing their way out to the balcony as time ticks closer to midnight.

“Would you like to watch the fireworks? I hear they’re known to be quite beautiful.” Obi-wan offers, gesturing to the gathering mass.

“I bet they are,” you murmur, chin propped loosely against your palm while your gaze never leaves him.

Amused, he offers an outstretched hand to help you off the stool that you had settled into so comfortably. He half expects you to slap him away and insist on standing on your own, but you take it instead.

Your palm finds his after a moment of contemplation, coming to the conclusion that it would not be fun to trip face-first.

His hand is warm against yours and you really hope he doesn’t feel the way you heat up beside him. This is really against your brand.

Obi-wan effortlessly weaves through the crowd and manages to secure a spot at the very end of the deck, where the bodies are dispersed more loosely.

You lean against the railing, peering over the railing, met with the sight of hundreds of floors below you with balconies overflowing with people.

The knowledge that you blend into the crowd is soothing. You don’t need to be anyone here. Not the grouchy mechanic, so you don’t get taken advantage of. Surrounded this way, you get to be faceless, and it’s something Obi-wan seems to enjoy too.

Coruscant, or as much of it as you can see, is plunged into darkness, save the hologram numbers projected against the walls that tick down with every passing second.

You blink in earnest as the people around you begin to shout. Ten seconds to midnight.

One last glance around you, and you’re really glad you took Obi-wan up on his offer.

You think to tell him, but then the crowd is chanting “one” and the entire balcony holds its breath before it erupts into deafening cheers of celebration.

The grin on your face is hard to erase when the first sparks of light illuminate the sky. All the colours you can think of burst in different patterns, sizzling into thin wisps of smoke—leaving the faintest ghost that they had been there in the first place.

You want to do that too.

Turning to Obi-wan, you find him already looking at you. You stumble impossibly closer towards him, hands landing on his chest as you teeter on wobbly legs.

A look of mild surprise graces his features, lips quirking into a smile as he looks down at you. “Hello there.”

Before you allow yourself to think twice, your fingers reach up to brush the strand of hair constantly falling against his forehead.

Obi-wan’s eyes widen minutely but he makes no move to recoil. You take that as a green light, but maybe that’s just the ongoing fireworks.

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning just close enough so he hears, “your hair was in your face, thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

He huffs what would have been a laugh if he wasn’t so breathless all of a sudden. Only then, do you realise how close you’ve actually gotten, when the warm air brushes your cheeks.

Perhaps it’s the liquid courage, but something comes over you when your gaze lands on his mouth, so close but far from your own. “Can I kiss you, Obi-wan?”

Obi-wan stills. He knows he shouldn’t. His mind screams to walk away and meditate until you and your damned lips are no longer at the forefront.

Yet, his hesitation doesn’t go far. Blame it on the alcohol if you will, but all his reservations go out the window when you blink at him, waiting with bated breaths.

It’s a new year, he thinks, I’ll regret it tomorrow.

The man throws caution to the wind as he closes the distance.

Obi-wan tastes of sharp alcohol and comfort. Your lips press gently against his, as though your previous boldness had dissolved along with his resolve.

You smile into the kiss when his hand moves to pull you in by your waist. Then, he feels you relax against him when fingers thread through the hair at his nape.

Happy New Year, indeed.

Obi-wan recalls telling himself he’d find it to feel bad in the morning, but it wholly slips his mind when the time comes, not when you look so utterly breathtaking sitting across from him, two cups of caf sitting in the short distance between you both.

You look like bantha shit, put simply. Having managed to lead the way back home, you don’t remember much after kicking your heels off and falling face-first into bed. You imagine you look a sight, though, you can’t muster up the will to care, since all your attention is skewered by the tight ache behind your eyes, narrowly beating out the man in your kitchen.

Squinting over the brim of your cup as you raise the caf to your lips, the heat that runs down your throat ironically soothes the burn left by the Alderaanian alcohol of the night before.

“Stop smiling at me,” you grumble, feigning a scowl at the man slumped so comfortably in his chair, “‘S too bright.”He chuckles at that, head tilting as he regards you, bathed in the warm light bleeding into the room.

His mind buzzes, recalling the feel of your lips pressed against his, but seeing as you haven’t shoved him out so far, he takes it as a good sign.

Your sharp gaze follows him as he tries to gauge your thoughts. Obi-wan is nervous, which isn’t something that can be said often. The man has been trained as the galaxy’s peacekeeper, yet meets his match at the hands of a pretty mechanic.

“I hope you had a good time,” Obi-wan says softly. It sounds as if he’s opening to a goodbye, and your heart twinges with something akin to disappointment. Apparently, it’s all too easy to forget the man you kissed last night is still a Jedi with very real Jedi duties.

You offer a light smile, “I did.” Fingers curling just that much tighter around the weight of your cup, pausing before you continue, mulling over your words, “--we should do it again.”

Obi-wan’s eyebrows raise in amusement, a cheeky grin stretching across his lips. His hand finds his beard, sweeping over as a force of habit. “It, being celebrating New Year’s or--”

He doesn’t get far with his question as you cross over to him and then you’re doing it again.

Months pass. Obi-wan finds himself frequenting the underworld so much that most of his time on-planet is spent by your side, when he’s not occupied with his Jedi duties.

This time is no different. You’ve closed up shop for the day, the sign outside dim as he approaches. He’s been gone for longer than he’d like, sent on a diplomatic mission on behalf of the Republic. When Obi-wan knocks on your door, it’s clear he’s run-down.

His shoulders are slumped when he crosses the threshold, into your arms. You feel him breathe deeply as his fingers gather the fabric at your waist, anchoring himself to you.

Wordlessly, he allows you to steer him, coming to rest at the foot of your bed. His hand never leaves yours.

The air surrounding you is thick with concern as you sit beside him, unsure. You take the moment to give Obi-wan a once over, allowing yourself the sliver of what you had been missing since he had left.

“Your hair’s gotten longer,” you speak, raising his palm to dust a warm kiss against his knuckles, “look how it hangs in your eyes.”

Obi-wan smiles, leaning more of his weight against your side. “Couldn’t find the time to get it trimmed,” he mumbles, words laced heavy with fatigue.

You click your tongue as you tuck the auburn hair behind his ear. “Don’t need to,” you hum, eyes scanning over the thick expanse of hair gathered at his collar, “it suits you.”

It really does. The way the curls cascade down the back of his head, coming to rest atop his shoulders, the same way as the day you met him, makes it difficult to imagine anything else in place of his long hair.

He’s scolded you before for prodding him for a holo of himself with the padawan braid.

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” You ask into the comfortable silence, voice gentle in case he’s fallen asleep against your shoulder. A Jedi skill, he tells you, to be able to rest wherever and whenever.

For a moment, you even believe he is—that is, until he lifts off of you with a nod. Your hand leaves his as you move behind him with excitement.

You kneel behind him as he comes to rest against your front. Your hands drape atop his shoulders, smoothing over the fabric there.“You can sleep,” you lean down, murmuring close enough he can feel your lips ghosting his cheek in a grin.

Obi-wan chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “Not sleeping,” he corrects, “—meditating.”

As your fingers thread through his hair with practiced ease, you bite back a bemused snort. “Well, I’d hate to keep you from that, Jedi Master.”

Obi-wan sits obediently still as you deftly weave through the compliant strands. The pair of you sit in silence, quiet enough to hear your heartbeat even out with Obi-wan’s steady breathing. Stars, he has really nice hair. The envy is short lived, as you come to end the braid at his neck, admiring your handiwork.

His usual untampered locks now sit neatly in a braid running down the back of his head, a stark contrast to usual.

You don’t need to ask to know he’s long past being awake. Once more, craning over his shoulder, your lips brush against his face, bearded cheek tickling your skin.

“Rise and shine,” you laugh as his eyes flutter open to meet yours. Bleary-eyed, he offers no protest when you pull at his shoulders, shedding him of his outer robes so that he falls back on the bed wrapped in your covers.

Obi-wan goes out like a light. How could he not? If he hadn’t been so exhausted already the feeling of your hands against his scalp would’ve done the trick anyhow.

When he sleeps, you let yourself admire him. With his hair finally out of his face, you get to admire him in his entirety. If you had tried at any other time, he’d chide you for staring, catching you before you had even started.

Eyes shut, Obi-wan looks serene. The usually furrowed brows have relaxed now, making the man look years younger, or how he would look if he would stop working himself to the bone. For the Republic, he says.

Even now, in the relative safety (or whatever comes close in the underworld) of your home, he looks battle-ready. The realisation comes heavy as gravity—knowing this would always be Obi-wan’s normal.

Yet, warmth runs through your chest at the fact that even so weary, Obi-wan chose to come to you. Neither had seen it coming-- the mechanic he’d met after crashing into their shop would become a source of comfort in such turmoil.

Thank the Maker for crashed speeders.

You emerge from under what feels like the hundredth speeder of the day, grease smeared across your arms and sweat dotting your skin. You should really start charging more. Your droid whirs in delight, logging another successful transaction while you wipe off traces of work on a nearby grease rag.

The sun, or what light reaches down there has dimmed, signalling the end of another day. A heavy sigh racks your chest and you catch sight of your reflection in the deteriorating mirror across the room.

You look like a day of work—stained overalls and burnt fingertips, but one part stays the same as it had when the work started. As your eyes drift over the braids pulling your hair back, everything that you had been trying to push back by throwing yourself into hours of work bubbles to the surface.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you avert your eyes.

He’s probably dead. You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a pessimist, but that’s most likely the case, and it would do you more good to accept it than what you’re doing now; tuning out the news until the briefest mention of the Grand Army of the Republic, dropping everything for the smallest sliver of news, for hope.

Obi-wan hadn’t told you about the clones. It had come as a surprise to most, word spreading that the Republic finally had its own army. You remember watching the new Chancellor Palpatine on the holonews, a pit of unease simmering in your stomach as his words rang.

A clone army.

You don’t see that everyday—or perhaps you will now.

It’s been near a full month of radio silence. If Obi-wan and his troops are alive, the news certainly doesn’t think so. There’s been no mention of any rescue mission from the Republic, which you believe to be rather telling. A clone army—expendable. Jedi, also expendable, apparently.

The best course of action would be business as usual. He has told you that this was his duty, that his loyalty would always lie with the Republic and his role as a Jedi. You understood, but certainly hadn’t expected that loyalty to lead him to his grave.

So, naturally, you close shop for the day. Your customers will survive. The sign on the outer wall remains dim all morning and the light outside doesn’t reach you, hidden away in your bed.

Again, Coruscant is fucking cold. There’s absolutely no rhyme or reason for it and just adds another point in your list of factors to leave the damned planet. No matter how many layers you huddle under, the cold manages to find you.

Most traces of him are gone. The spice that clings to his robes and lingers in the air long after he’s gone has dissipated and you start to wonder if he had ever been here at all.

The last thing you expect is to hear the rapping of knuckles against your front door.

The second the first knock comes, your heart stops, the briefest glimmer of hope wrestling its way up. Barrelling towards the door, it slides open to reveal the man previously presumed dead.

For a moment, you don’t think it’s real. Obi-wan stands in the doorway, robes singed to hell and back, a nasty cut running along his temple and looking like he’s aged ten years, yet you recognise him in a heartbeat.

He hears your breath hitch in your throat when you freeze. His expression is cautious, considering your reaction. He had found his way back to Coruscant all the way from Felucia, yet the distance separating you seems far too large.

“You cut your hair,” you finally say. Gone are the auburn curls that once brushed his collar which is now clipped short, baring his neck. Your shoulders slack before you’re pulling him in by the shoulders, sending him lurching into your chest.

Obi-wan laughs at that, engulfing you in his arms. His grasp winds tight around you and you stand there for what feels like hours but not enough, and all you can think is he’s here.

Obi-wan pulls back, eyes finding yours with a fond smile. “I’ll just have to learn to do your hair now.” He leans in, placing a kiss to the crown of your hair. “You don’t look very well, love.”

“—because of me?”

You huff indignantly at that, pulling out of his hold, “yes, I do have you to thank for a solid month of worrying.”

Obi-wan pauses, eyes flickering over your shoulder. You can tell he takes it to heart.

“Hey,” you murmur, lifting a palm to his cheek, “it would just really suck if you died, y’know?”

He sighs, “I’m sorry I worried you. I tried to find a working commlink but—” He stills once more, shaking his head in defeat. You fill the silence.

“But you were at war, Obi-wan. Commlinks can wait, I’m just happy you made it home in one piece. That’s all that matters.”

The man exhales once more but he concedes with a nod. Knowing he must feel like absolute bantha crap, you usher him to the worn sofa. He watches you flitter around the room, rummaging through cupboards and he can’t help but notice how normal this feels.

Eventually, you bring him a steaming cup of caf, something that seems to flow endlessly in your home and perch beside him on the armrest. The pair of you settle into a comfortable silence. As you lace your fingers between his, you can feel him formulating his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” You hum, tapping his wrist. Obi-wan is still, before he whips his head towards you.

“If you asked… I’d stay.” Obi-wan blurts.

The words make you gape and you’re speechless for a good amount of time. He watches you intently, serious as ever.

“Obi-wan,” you begin slowly, “you know I’d never ask that of you.”

“I know that,” he responds firmly, “I also know the Jedi way forbids attachment, that I’d have to let you go. Yet, on Felucia, I wasn’t fighting for the Republic. When we were surrounded by the Separatist droids, I was trying to get back to you.”

Your heart is thudding in your chest, pounding against your ribcage with such ferocity you wonder if even he can hear it. You don’t know what to say.

He leans closer earnestly as his grip on your hand tightens. “I can’t promise things won’t always be this way, but I will always find my way back to you.”

Words have never been your strong suit, this much is certain so you close the gap between you instead, hoping that your lips on his can convey all the emotions cresting from his promise.

When you pull away, it’s because he wipes a tear that escapes down your cheek. “I just hope I’m not the reason you’ll turn to the dark side,” you say with a soft laugh.

Obi-wan nudges your cheek bemusedly, “it’s more likely than you think.”

Bathed in the colourful lights seeping through the blinds, you savour the peace. The morning seems a little brighter and tucked into Obi-wan’s side, Coruscant doesn’t seem so cold anymore.

#editing this was a nightmaRe but i think it turned out okay!!#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obiwan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi oneshot #obi-wan kenobi imagine #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars oneshot #star wars headcanons

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thewickeddevil · 3 years

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A Study In Jean Moreau

(tw: mentions of Jean's past, violence, mental health and suicidal thoughts/intention to die. let me know if there's something else)

ok, so, i say all the time that Jean Moreau is my favorite and comfort character in All For The Game (i know. it literally hurts but also brings me joy sometimes) and i would literally kill for that man. so, that said, i think too much about him and, consequently, i have too many hcs about him. on request, i will now do what i'm gonna call A Study In Jean Moreau

(my beta reader and best friend helped me a lot with this. thanks @jostenrun)

i'll start with this quote from one of my kerejean fics (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146540)

During Jean's first four months at USC and playing with the Trojans, he would always ignore Jeremy and put a frown on his face whenever he was in the same place as him. It obviously wasn't the best of strategies to put distance between himself and all the Jeremy glow, but it looked exactly bad enough to work.

Still, Jeremy was all pompous and charming looks at him, always smiling and being polite even though he received much less in return. It pissed the shit out of Jean.

He was used by the Ravens for many years, treated exactly like the exchange item he had been, just possession and obliged to follow lines and lines of rules too strict even for how he should breathe.

Riko was violent, the Ravens were cruel, the Moriyama family was wrong and he needed to repeat this to himself on a daily basis to be able to just keep going.

Back at the beginning of those days, many times he would fight back until he was taught that it was only worse. Many times he would beg until he realized that it encouraged Riko more than it prevented him. Many times he would cry until he was taught that it was wrong.

He would often bleed.

He would often wish to bleed until there was nothing left in his veins, no thoughts in his brain, no air in his lungs, no words on the tip of his tongue—

And he would often try to do just that on his own.

That was his daily life for a long time. Evermore was what he knew, the Moriyama family was who he belonged to and all of that was for what he served. That was it.

How was he supposed to know back then that suddenly overly nice twenty-eight other people would replace all of that with magnificence?

How was he supposed to know that they wouldn't look at him with disgust whenever he accidentally let a curse in French slip away?

How was he supposed to know that the Trojans had complete freedom within the team, instead of having to walk in pairs like the Ravens?

How was he supposed to know that Jeremy wasn't going to hit him whenever he made a mistake?

Or how would he know that Jeremy never considered anything that he made a mistake?

It was all a very big break from reality and so, so suddenly. Jean felt confused at first. Lost, wrong, out of place, stupid and scared.

And Jeremy was always determined to be the best he could be. Jeremy was safe.

Until Jean felt comfortable, confident, fine, and satisfied. He was someone instead of something and he really felt like that.

i think Jean would take years to relearn how to live instead of surviving. sometimes he would fail at that, but so many failures can only lead to success eventually.

he really didn't want to keep playing exy after everything, he doesn't think exy is good at all and trauma made him hate it, but he needs it because of the deal with Ichirou. fortunately, the Trojans are a team big enough to put him in the background for a while, to give him a little rest. but he knows he can't relax too much

he starts therapy. he needs it badly and it takes time for him to really be able to do it, but Jean was never anything but strong, and when he sees the chance to finally heal he knows that, despite how tired he is, despite how many times he wonders if it's worth it to keep going, he needs to grab that and at least try. just one more time. he never wanted to work for anything in his life because nothing was important before, but now he thinks that maybe things are changing

the Trojans get a dorm exclusively for him at first, because they don't want Jean to force himself to share space with someone he doesn't know and still doesn't trust. they want Jean to have his own space and feel safe before anything. he needs that solitude and he knows that it doesn't mean loneliness because his team will always be just a call away from him

he relapses sometimes. days without taking basic care of himself and without getting up from bed, and he no longer remembers whether he’s alive or not. sometimes he's able to call his therapist when that happens, but sometimes he isn't

this is how he gets into the habit of learning poetry. and eventually, writing poetry. he needs a coping mechanism and words seem to be safe enough to float around in his mind and make space in his core

(French poetry that Kevin always dissects for him and tells about the history behind the period in which those texts were written, or about the authors of each text)

the process is slow but it’s progress nonetheless

so, we know about therapy, about not being easy, about difficulties and things happening slowly during the healing process, now let's talk about the little details when things finally start to work out positively. when the best part of Jean's life finally begins

he finds out that his eyesight isn't bad only because of the beatings he took in the nest, and finds it ridiculous when Jeremy offers to help him buy glasses because, according to him, all the glasses Jean likes make him look like a middle-aged man that curses people for fun. Jean doesn't hate it though

Jean learns how to swim and likes it more than he thought he would. he likes the fluidity and movements of the liquid around his skin, how he cuts the water with his body when moving around and how it doesn't hurt him, and he just feels light

Jean likes nutella and chocolate with nuts, because Jeremy used to give it to him after nightmares or difficult days, and it became a comfort food for him (something he wasn’t even allowed to eat in the nest)

Jean's musical taste is a big mess of R&B, soul, pop art, folk, dark pop... he likes artists like Lorde, Aurora, Marina, Sigrid, Sleeping at last and the list goes on

Before he left France, Jean's family had a farm and he was responsible for harvesting fruits and vegetables there. this is one of the last memories he has about France, so he likes to harvest fruits and vegetables whenever he has the chance in the US

Jean loves to read fantasy books. he is a hufflepuff and part of cabin 6 in camp half-blood (children of Athena)

he likes geography. pedology, topography and weather are his favorites. he likes to look at the sky and know how to name climatic phenomena regardless of where in the world he is

(he also likes history and sociology, but only because he can hear Kevin and Jeremy — respectively — talking for hours and hours about those two subjects)

he hates biology

he absolutely hates croissants, tea and coffee. in the morning he always drinks juice or chocolate milk (the latter is Jeremy's fault)

the first time he willingly got wasted on alcohol, he, Sarah and Laila woke Jeremy up in the wee hours of the night while singing in Spanish (Jean barely knows Spanish). he passed out after that and woke up the next day in his room. his first thought was that he was fine even though he lost control of himself around other people, and he cried because of that. Jeremy was concerned because he thought he was crying from a headache or something related to a hangover

Jean can never find shoes his size in conventional stores because he's very big (fucking tall, muscular but not too much, with large shoulders and hips, and eventually a tummy) and, consequently, his feet are also big. he needs to have it personalized and he completely hates it

he loves dogs but is easily scared by them. he couldn't get out of the dorms for almost an entire day after Jeremy's mom's dog barked too loud and it scared Jean. he felt guilty and didn't want people to be mad at him for being so scared of a simple dog

he loves cats though, and after some time into therapy, he adopted a service cat. Kevin and Jeremy always joke about it looking like a replica of Jean himself

Jean doesn't understand the purpose of MMA competitions, because he doesn't like violence and thinks martial arts should be only for self-defense, so he doesn't really understand why people choose to compete over something so aggressive

he also doesn't like the violence in exy, but he forgives because, at least, violence is not the main goal of the sport, but to score points

he learns to draw and starts to open art commissions on the internet. this is his first job and he's proud of it because it was something he achieved by himself

Jean and Jeremy fell in love on the beach

Kevin and Jean take time to forgive each other, especially Jean. the broken heart Kevin left in Jean hurt more than being abandoned by his parents. he suffered from it for years but he didn't really want to blame Kevin. he also knew Riko, after all. he knew how capable of driving someone insane Riko was. it didn't make things easier or less painful though. Kevin and Jean took time, but they never loved each other less

Kevin and Jean fell in love for the second time (the time they could, the time they were allowed) after one of the matches in which their teams were rivals

Jean is very picky for food consistency, and he hates ketchup and mayonnaise for that. he insists all the time that if people knew how to season the food well, they wouldn't need those condiments

(he secretly loves Dijon Mustard though)

Jean was born on 08/31. he’s a virgo

plushies are the first resource that Jean uses when he feels alone but is unable to be around anyone at the moment, so he unconsciously starts making a collection of them. they're all small, except for two that Kevin and Jeremy gave him and are, respectively, a fox and a red and gold trojan. he eventually distributes his plushies to children in local orphanages but keeps those two to himself out of sheer emotional attachment

he doesn't stop suffering because of his trauma throughout his life, but he learns to deal with it. that's the point of everything. he never thinks he will magically forget or get over it, but now he is in a different place in his life and he can start working his way to be the best version of himself he can. he doesn't fool himself into thinking it will be easy and fast, he never thought it would be less difficult than it really was, but he takes things slowly and carefully and hopes it works

his entire healing process is too complex and extensive to explain everything here, but i did the best i could and now i really need to stop because i could stay here ranting for days. xx

#Jean Moreau #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king's men #Jeremy Knox #Kevin Day #USC Trojans #Healing #i love him too much for my own good #this man deserves the whole world and i'll stand for that #Kerejean #Jerejean #Kevjean

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frostsinth · 3 years

Text

Burdened by the Stars - Pt. 1

Huzzah! A new story! I have had this one in my thoughts since about halfway through Royal Flush, and am happy to finally get it underway. I’ve already got most of the next part written, so I hope to keep ahead of myself that way I can post more regularly again.

Please enjoy this new (and old!) cast of wonderful characters. Tell me what you think! Drop an ask, reblog, or comment! Check out my MasterList for more of my stories, and please feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there to help out.

All the best!

The sun was a blessing warmth that day, shining bright in a clear blue cloudless sky. The gardens looked almost endless, and I had to admit I was impressed with the gardeners’ skill to maintain such a vibrant green despite it being nearly the middle of winter. Of course, a fair bit of that was due to the addition of a pair of goblin gardeners a few years back, who imbued some of their innate magic to make the gardens far more beautiful year round than they had ever been. With their aid, the grass grew thicker and greener. The blooms grew larger and more colorful. Everything seemed to have a beautiful sparkling splendor.

Despite the loveliness of the gardens, and their impressive expanse, I was, as always, innately aware of the towering white stone walls surrounding it. One would have to squint to see them from where I stood, but I felt their press as plainly as if I were standing in a four by four box. My own personal gilded prison.

Not that those walls had ever succeeded in keeping me in for long, I thought to myself with a tickle of amusement, crossing my arms as I watched my two Ladies in Waiting struggle to notch their arrows. I had never found it too much trouble to sneak out when I put my mind to it. But I would give my older brother some credit, as he had gotten quite good at two things over the years; convincing me to stay in, and, when that failed, hunting me down to drag me back.

Honestly, I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. I just wanted to explore! I wanted to see far off places and go on adventures of my own! Nothing ever happened at the castle! There was only ever stuffy, boring nobles and endless soirees and balls and galas. I had no head for politics, no patience for court affairs, no interest in parties. I couldn’t sit still long enough for anyone’s satisfaction, nor did I like wearing the fancy dresses. Certainly I was often told I was clever enough to outwit most anyone, but I just lacked the focus. It was a hollow old song who’s tune had long run dry to my ears.

My brother did try. He was always trying to engage me in court life. And I knew he wanted me to be happy, in his own way. He just didn’t understand my wanderlust and adventuring spirit. He loved being King, and running the country. And he was good at it; the best in centuries many said. Our Kingdom prospered, our people flourished. For him, there was nothing more exciting than negotiating contracts, solving disputes, or meeting foreign dignitaries. He would try to appeal to my curious nature. Come meet this fellow, my brother would say, he’s from the far off Kingdom of somewhere or other. He’ll tell you all sorts of fascinating stories!

...They were never interesting people. I could almost predict how quickly I would become bored with them by how highly my brother sang their praises before I met them. But we had vastly different tastes, my brother and I. Though when I was younger, I had always admired him. My serious and indomitable older brother, more than 20 years my senior. Still, despite his cold and stoney exterior to the outside world, he was the one who had taught me to shoot a bow. And he had always been there to support me, whatever new interest or hobby I picked up each week. He made a point to spend almost every dinner with me, and to listen to everything I had to say. But when he looked at me, he still saw a Princess. A fine Lady of the Court, not a discontent prisoner. And the older I got, the less and less he seemed to see it.

This afternoon I was especially restless, as I knew it would be soon time to go to the castle where I usually spent the winter months. My travel had been delayed this year due to weather, and I was anxious to be leaving. Especially as my older brother and his spouse had a few younger foreign nobles that they seemed particularly interested in pressing into my company. I nearly groaned at the memory of them. Boring, all of them! One was from a fishing kingdom, but he had never met a pirate! Nor did he even seem remotely interested in discussing them. Another journeyed from beyond the mountains, near the deserts of Sandspire. And yet seemed more prepared to wax poetic about my hair than discuss the inter politics between his Kingdom and the Nessiim.

“Your Highness!” Called one of my Ladies, waving her little arm at me and bouncing up and down in her overly sparkly shoes. “Did you see that shot? I believe I’m getting better!”

I waved my hand back to the small goblin standing a few yards away, smiling. “Keep your elbow tight, Safa, and you’ll hit the target every time!”

My other Lady, Lisbet, giggled behind one delicately gloved hand, giving Safa a light and playful shove and saying something I couldn’t quite hear from the garden gate where I stood. The goblin squealed, her grey-green skin becoming flushed far darker than before, and attempting to poke her human counterpart with the end of her bow. Lisbet merely laughed louder, swatting her back with her own. They were doing well. Neither had much of a hand for such things; their arms were far too unpracticed at pulling the bowstring, and their fine clothes tended to get in the way. But still, it was amusing to see them try. And it never hurt that they might learn a thing or two in the process.

I watched them quietly for a few minutes, leaning over the short wooden fence that separated the open field where we had set up a makeshift target practice from the vegetable garden the kitchen utilized. The two had been incredibly good sports about entertaining me today; both willing to look like absolute fools as they attempted to replicate one of my favorite pastimes. I knew they weren’t trying very seriously anymore, but I didn’t mind. I rubbed my hands together, clearing the dirt from my palms left over from picking some produce for our afternoon snack. Cucumbers and melons were always more delicious picked straight from the vine. I considered my bounty, sighing deeply to myself. It certainly wasn’t all bad being Princess. I knew I should be grateful for living in such a beautiful white stone castle, being waited on hand and foot without a care in the world. And I was!

But I swore I would trade it all for just one great adventure.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn’t hear the soft crunch of boots on the gravel behind me. Originally I must have passed it off as just a servant running an errand on the path lining the outside of the garden or a guard making their rounds. Then a large, broad shadow passed over me, bigger than any I was sure I had ever seen before, and I spun in surprise.

The man standing behind me was tall. Taller than me, taller than either of my older brothers who were not small people. I ventured to guess he was close to seven feet, either just shy of or just over. His shoulders were broad, almost the width of two men standing side by side. And their breadth was certainly no illusion of his clothes, seeing as he wore next to none. His chest and shoulders were bare save for a dark leather pauldron on one side with a pair of thick straps that were cinched tight to his muscular torso. About his waist he had heavy furs wound back and forth into layers from his hips down to nearly his knees, but I could see his thick thighs through the slashes cut into either side to allow ease of movement. He also boasted a huge axe strapped to his back, possibly as long as I was tall, and a matching dagger on each hip.

Certainly this man was no castle guard, based upon his garb alone, but despite all that, it was not his clothing nor weapons nor size that made my eyebrows flick up in surprise. The man’s flesh (most of which was quite visible to my curious eye) was a deep, yellowish green. Like a lemon still halfway to ripening, though a fair bit darker than one. Besides that, and his broad, flat nose, as well as the mohawk of hair neatly braided down the top center of his head with short shaved sides, a pair of sharp looking little tusks protruded out from behind his lower lip.

The greenish skin and prominent brow originally had me thinking ‘goblin’. But combined with the small tusks and his gargantuan size? I quickly corrected that to ‘orc’. Though this was only a homely guesstimate, as I had never met a real orc before. A pair of bright green emerald eyes settled on me briefly as he approached, then flicked over my shoulder to consider my Ladies. Perhaps I should have been afraid of him, or at the very least wary. Yet instead I found myself intrigued. He carried himself with a slow saunter, confident, but not aggressive. And though he looked completely out of place in his furs amid the polished stones of the fine castle, he didn’t seem particularly on edge himself. Perhaps a bit exasperated, but otherwise relaxed. I shifted, cocking one hip and leaving just one brow raised. Wondering just exactly who this man was, and why he was wandering around inside the castle grounds unaccompanied.

He paused beside me, and I considered him from head to toe as he placed his meaty hands on either hip. I watched him looking over my Ladies again, then he jerked his rounded chin at them.

“Which one of them is the goblin Princess?” He asked, his voice thick with an accent I had never heard before.

I almost laughed out loud at his question, privy to information he apparently was not that made it intensely humorous. But I quickly hid my smirk and turned to consider my two Ladies in Waiting with him. Certainly they looked quite regal and elegant; Safa always preferred large poofy dresses, most almost twice her size, despite how much I preached their impracticality. She also boasted an over the top hairstyle that was the current goblin fashion and gave her an extra inch or two on her height. Meanwhile Lisbet, who’s tastes were much more subdued, looked no less refined in her lovely scarlet frock on top of cream and pink skirts that brushed the grass as she walked. She had also done up her hair in a delicate braid, with a few long cherry blonde curls flowing loose over her shoulders. Both had more than a few bobbles and bangles, and they squeaked and squealed like typical high class ladies who had never needed to worry about a thing in life.

“That depends on who’s asking.” I returned to the stranger, leaning back forward on the gate again over my crossed arms.

The young man gave a snort, and shot me a look out the corner of his eye. I wondered if he was appraising me now. In comparison to the bright and decadent Ladies across the way, I was sure I looked quite plain. A cream colored sleeveless blouse that looped around my neck and a soft lavender skirt complimented my dark umber skin. Topped with my soft white fur shawl to keep off the chill that I had pushed back out the way of my arms while I worked. My own hair, a wild auburn that was so dark it was nearly black, was pulled out of my face with a simple maroon ribbon and nothing more. It spilled around my head in an untamed cloud of softness, each tiny curly fluffed out to be almost indistinguishable from the next without close inspection.

“I mean her no harm,” he assured me after a moment, “I have come very far seeking to be heard by the King.”

I looked him over again, and couldn’t help feeling my curiosity having been thoroughly piqued. “And what does that have to do with the Princess?”

“Who are you to her?” He growled. At first I was surprised by the tone, but I quickly realized it was not in an unfriendly manner. It was almost a secondary quality to his deep voice and thick accent.

“Oh, we’re very close.” I confided in him, nodding conspiratorially to hide the twitch of my continued amusement. “She doesn’t do anything without taking my counsel first.”

“Hmm.” Green eyes turned back to consider me more carefully, and I could see the same spark of interest in his own eyes. “And you would help me?”

“Depends on what you need help with, I suppose.” I mused in return.

He sighed heavily, then took his hands from his hips and crossed them over his chest. “I’ve come to speak for an alliance between my people and the humans. The King is… reluctant.” He jerked his chin at Safa and Lisbet again. “But if I marry the Princess, I can change that.”

I nearly fell over in disbelief. “You want to marry the Princess??”

He scoffed, his brow scrunching up angrily. “What? An orc can not marry a Princess?”

I laughed, unable to contain the ridiculousness of his proposal. “Is that what you are then? An orc?” I scoffed at him myself, my voice becoming heated. “And I can’t believe Val… erm, I mean, the King, would even suggest that!”

“Yeah, I’m an orc!” The big beast shot back proudly, then hesitated to reach up one hand and rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, half orc, anyways. And King Valeri-whatsit didn’t exactly suggest marrying the Princess… I did.” He glanced at me out the corner of his eye once more. “And he would have laughed me out of the room too. But I think he might be half stone.... He’s hard to read.” He grumbled and shifted his weight. “So what’s her problem? Who am I rescuing her from?”

“Rescuing her?” I exclaimed, still off balanced from his first admittance to begin wrapping my head around his second question.

“Princesses always need rescuing.” He pointed out patiently, as if it were a common fact of life. “Is there a monster here? Or some… riddle or something that she can’t solve?”

I hid a smirk, shaking my head. “Nope. Nothing like that around here.” I kicked the fence with my toe. “Just a regular old boring castle.”

He chewed that over for a moment, scratching one finger on his chin as he did. “Hmm. I suppose her brother the King must be secretly wicked or something. Maybe he never lets her leave the castle.”

My eyes jerked up to him in surprise. As I watched though, he seemed to be chewing on his thick lower lip, and his brow was scrunched. Just thinking out loud then. A coincidence he had nearly hit the truth of the matter perfectly square. I glanced back at my oblivious Ladies, then to the half-orc.

“So you fancy yourself her rescuer then?”

He nodded, becoming more confident as he thought about it. “Yeah. I think that’s how it works.” He gave a hefty shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, I don’t want to marry some soft, spoilt Princess, but if I rescue her then the King will have to listen to me.”

I would have groaned, and had to fight hard to resist narrowing my eyes instead. What an arrogant prick! Honestly, who did he think he was! I brushed my hands down the front of my dress, straightening.

“Soft?” I scoffed again. “Spoilt?? And who says she needs rescuing!” I argued bitterly, moving to open the gate beside me. “I think the Princess is quite capable of taking care of herself, thank you very much.”

“Hey, wait!”

I jumped slightly, turning to find his hand scooped around my upper arm. His grip was firm, but gentle, and his skin seemed a warmer color against the contrast of my own. I glanced at it, blinking stupidly for half a second before looking up at his face. He too seemed to realize perhaps he had been a bit forward, and dropped his hand. Suddenly looking more uncertain than I had yet seen him. I paused, considering him. He shifted sheepishly.

“You ah… you said you were going to help me.”

I snorted. “I said that depended on who you were.” I crossed my arms, craning my head back to look up at him with my lips set in a stubborn line. “And you never actually said who you are.”

He gave me a small grin, baring his small tusks at me. I couldn’t suppress the little jump in my pulse at the sight as his whole face lit up with the smile. He stood a little taller, spreading the breadth of his shoulders out then solidified his footing. The stance of a soldier, I noted. A stance my other brother had taught me during our sparring sessions. He looked… big. And I couldn’t deny the impressiveness of his fit body. I realized he was probably about my age, or maybe a year or two older at most. But I shook myself internally as my eyes lingered on him perhaps a moment longer than necessarily appropriate and brought my gaze up to meet his as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I am Erramun Klin’wahid, son of Unvar, of the Broghuz Valley.” He proclaimed proudly, then thudded one fist against his broad chest. I raised one brow, and he tilted his head to the side. “So, now you know me. Will you help me?”

I considered him again, a small frown settling in the corners of my lips. Was I supposed to recognize that name? And how exactly did one get rid of an unwanted orc suitor? I didn’t want to have to call the guard, that was far too dramatic for my tastes. Nor did I think I could wrestle him, given the disproportion of our sizes. I would have to use my wit to win this encounter, and I started to tinker with the notion as soon as I had properly assessed the situation. Then a thought occurred to me, and I had to work hard to hide my smug smirk. Instead, I gave a flourished sigh, placing my hands on my hips. As if I was giving in to his request. His lips twitched eagerly.

“Have you ever heard of the Masiir flower?” I asked him innocently. He shook his head, but his bright green eyes filled with curiosity. “Well, it’s very rare. So rare, it only grows in one place! Out past the craigs of Almayit, deep in the forest of Pyejara.”

“What is the point of this flower? Flowers are useless.” He growled, frowning and sneaking a glance over at my Ladies.

Safa and Lisbet had just noticed our visitor, and I saw them huddling close together fretfully. Whispering quickly to one another. I relaxed my stance, showing them clearly I was not concerned, and hoped they would stay put for the time being. It wouldn’t do for them to reveal my hand to this stranger.

“This particular flower is famed for its beauty.” I explained. “But it grows in such a dangerous place, very few people have ever seen it. If you got one for the Princess, she’d have to talk to you, no?”

Erramun frowned, and looked over at Safa and Lisbet again. “For a flower?”

“Not just any flower!” I insisted, building quickly upon my lie, “The Masiir flower is supposed to be the flower of unity! It’s a symbol! And it’s magic!” I added, because hell, why not? If it got him out of my hair, all the better. “Just look for a big flower with white petals that have purple tips, and a red stem.”

The half-orc ‘hmmed’ deeply, a rumble that seemed to form deep in his broad chest. I saw him glance over at my Ladies again. Perhaps he scowled, but I couldn’t quite tell from my angle. After another bated breath that remained trapped in my throat, he gave a sigh as strong as a gale force breeze.

“I suppose Princesses must really like flowers… And that would make her marry me?”

I would have blanched at the word, had I been working so hard to pretend otherwise. Instead, I had to swallow a bitter sneer at the notion, hiding my disdain for it with an assured nod. “Very few Princesses would be able to refuse you if you brought her back a Masiir flower.”

After a few more quiet moments of deliberation, the man nodded resolutely. “Then I will just have to go get this flower.” He shot a charming smile to the watching Ladies, who erupted into feverish sputters and squeals. “Speak well of me to the Princess, yes? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Oh, of course, Mister Erramun.” I replied, cupping my hands in front of me as a smug smile tugged at the corners of my lips. More than a little satisfied my ploy had worked so seamlessly.

He thumped his fist across his chest, then reached out and scooped up one of my hands so quickly I almost didn’t notice the gesture. My eyes quickly widened in surprise as the half-orc bent low. Pressing a light but warm kiss to my knuckles. I could feel his small tusks scrape against my skin as he did.

“Thank you for your help.” He told me, still bent over my hand, green eyes dancing in the afternoon sunlight. “I am in your debt.”

I shook my head quickly to hide the slight flush rising to my cheeks. “Think nothing of it. But you should get going!” I tugged my hand quickly from his grasp with the pretense of gesturing towards the main gate. “Almayit is at least a day’s ride from here!”

He smirked a little too smugly for my liking at my rushed words, then looked over my shoulder again. His expression shifting into confusion.

“But who-”

“I must be going, and so should you!” I told him before he could ask. I didn’t want to give him an answer for it. Especially if it might put one of my Ladies in danger in the future. “I’ve already spent far too long lingering here to speak with you.” I waved my hand again. “Off you go! And best of luck.”

I turned, gathering up the basket of melons and cucumbers and scuttling quickly through the gate. I was glad to hear it clunk behind me without delay. Meaning the man had not followed. Still, I didn’t dare look back just yet, though Safa and Lisbet were watching like hawks on my behalf. I stopped a few feet away from them, finally giving in to the burning desire to peek over my shoulder. But Erramun was already almost out of sight. His broad shoulders seemed to catch the sunlight vibrantly as he walked away. Which left the air catching in my throat again. I didn’t realize my Ladies had taken the liberty to close the remaining gap between us until they spoke.

“Your Highness!” came a gaspy breath, and I turned to see Safa with her usual excited bounce peering up at me. “Whoever was that??”

I scoffed, shaking my head and passing her the basket. “Just a fool, that’s who.”

“A handsome fool.” Lisbet added, leaning to look around me and watch the half-orc disappear around the corner. I could see the flash of interest in her honey brown eyes.

“And tall!” Safa added, sounding just as interested.

“Everyone’s tall to you.” Lisbet shot back, which had the smaller goblin lady squealing in displeasure. Lisbet only laughed, then turned back to me. “What did he want then, Your Highness?”

“Eh?” I mumbled, my eyes still stuck on the spot where Erramun had just disappeared. I blinked a few times, then realized what she had asked me. I quickly cleared my throat. “Oh, erm… nothing. He was just lost, I think.”

“He seemed quite smitten with you,” Lisbet teased, taking up my hand and skimming her fingers over my knuckles, “At least based upon that little kiss he gave you.”

I snatched my hand back, scowling at her a little. “Oh posh. I told you, he’s just a fool. Don’t think I’m as boy crazy as you two to fawn over some knuckle kisser.”

They both laughed at that, and after a moment, I couldn’t help my own little smile. Then I cleared my throat, shaking my head.

“Come on.” I told them, turning and marching off back towards the castle. “We’d best get going, the day is not so young anymore!”

I noticed them exchange an alarmed look out the corner of my eye before darting after me.

“Where exactly are we going, Your Highness?” Safa asked breathily. She always was a little winded trying to keep up with our longer legs.

“To the goblin kingdom.” I announced. “I’m tired of waiting for Val to make up his mind that I can go. There hasn’t been new snow on the ground in days. I’m leaving now.”

Especially because I wanted to make sure I was long gone before that Erramun fellow got back. If he did… I felt a pang of unease on having sent him on such a dangerous wild goose chase. I scoffed quietly to myself; he was a big lad. He could handle himself. Or, more likely, he would realize it was just not worth it, and would return to his own lands. Which might be even more the case when he searched in vain for a flower that I had simply created on the spot.

“B-but… But Princess Morgana! King Valerianus said-”

I shook myself loose from Lisbet’s grip as she went to grab for my arm again. “Liz I am 22 years old! I don’t have to wait for my big brothers to decide when to ship me back and forth between them like some annual royal tithe.” I skipped up the castle steps and brazenly shouldered open the door. “I’ve been packed for days now! So if you don’t want to ride horseback the whole way, you might want to go to the stables and have them get the carriage ready.” I spun lightly on one foot, grinning at them as I walked backwards towards the main stairwell. “We leave in an hour.”

Safa groaned lightly, slowing with a huff and placing her free hand on her hip. I laughed, turning around to sprint up the stairs, two at a time. I would have to change into my riding slacks before we could leave, and have the servants bring down my bags. Not to mention my Ladies’ things. But having made the decision after days of restless waiting, I already felt lighter than air.

“Honestly I’m surprised King Valerianus was able to delay her as long as he did.” I heard Lisbet sigh as I rounded the corner at the top.

“We’d better do as she says and get the carriage.” Safa replied. “I am not riding horseback.”

I laughed again, and I heard them both intake a sharp breath of surprise as it echoed about the hall. But I was sure they would recover quickly from their shock. Safa and Lisbet had been my Ladies in Waiting for over a decade. They both knew me well enough to know I preferred they always speak their minds, and not to try and change mine. With the promise of departure lightening my step, I felt my heart skipping with delight. It was almost enough to push the thought of my strange wayward visitor from my thoughts…. Almost.

...

UPDATE: Part two HERE

#slow burn #Burdened by the Stars #new fic #monster romance #monster lover #monster boyfriend #orc #half-orc #monster x human #terato #exophilia #orc lover #orc boyfriend #frenemies #Royal Flush Sequel #li'un ma shkio

90 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 4 years

Text

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.

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