Hello hello, Mistria fans! I come bearing headcanons of one of my favorite tropes: character hears their crush sing for the first time and MELTS. A bit of info:
These take place at six hearts, when crushes start to be hinted at! (I have not yet seen any six heart events…LMAO I’m going on vibes and romance spoilers here.)
The characters hear you sing in different scenarios - I will highlight what the scenario is above the characters it applies to.
I link a song in Celine’s because it’s what I listened to when writing hers! I don’t have specific songs in mind for the rest of them. The link is more of a bonus treat for those of you who like folk music lol
Enjoy! I love to sing so this is as much for me as it is anyone else haha
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At the Sleeping Dragon Inn, singing a duet with Josephine - Celine, Reina, Hayden
Celine
Celine is delighted to hear you sing! She had no idea you had such a lovely voice. She gets that happy blushy smile on her face – you know the one. The one where she cups her hands together and gazes at you with shining eyes.
She does her best to diligently listen to your performance, but as she listens to the lyrics, her mind drifts. “Can I be close to you?” You and Josephine harmonize.
Does this song make you think of her the same way it makes her think of you?
You’ve been so kind to her since you arrived. She was worried she’d been overbearing, intrusive, that first day she went to your farm uninvited to introduce herself. But only a couple weeks later you said “Anything for you, Celine.” She hasn’t gotten your voice saying that out of her head since. Now your singing voice will join that sentence on constant replay.
She hums the song to herself while she gardens for the next few days.
Reina
Hemlock likes to say that he knew Josephine was special the moment he saw her, but that it was when he had the privilege to hear her sing that he fell head over heels. Reina has always loved the sappy way her dad talks about her mom, but she also recognizes he’s definitely exaggerating in old stories like that.
But now, hearing your voice carry melodies through the air, she’s starting to believe that maybe her dad was being very, very literal. Maybe it does only take one verse to fall in love.
That’s silly, she muses. There’s so much more to like about them than just their voice. She blinks. Oh. Oh.
Hemlock catches sight of his daughter from where he plays you and Jo’s accompaniment. He recognizes that look in her eye and smiles.
When you sit at the bar after finishing a few songs, Reina cheerfully praises your voice and openly admits she’d love for your singing at the inn to become a regular occurrence.
Hayden
He has to hold back an expression of pure awe as he listens to you. It doesn’t work very well. He has very obvious heart eyes. He’s godawful at hiding how much he likes you.
He can’t help the way his mind takes this new facet of you and runs for the hills with it. He imagines you on his farm in the morning, singing to the new calves as they wake, keeping them calm while he tends to their mother nearby. Another image appears, this one of you filling the barn with music while you brush one of his horses’ manes.
The final scene his mind conjures for him is sweet, sweet torture. The two of you dancing slowly in his living room, you singing softly while a record plays in the background.
Afterward, he tells you you sounded mighty fine up there. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a voice like yours comes in handy when animals get rowdy!” He says, hiding his blush behind one of his booming laughs.
Playing Dragons and Drama as a bard and initially being too shy to sing, but upon some encouragement doing so - Balor, Eiland, Adeline
Balor
It’s after the session is over and everyone is readying to leave the inn for the night that Balor approaches you.
“That voice of yours is really something, Farmer. A talent like that can get you places.” He smiles at you.
“Maybe it can. But I think Mistria is my place. I’m happy just to sing here, for you.” You could have said ‘for you guys.’ But you didn’t.
Balor’s eyes soften. “Well, I’m sure everyone is thankful you decided to share with us.” A pause. For a moment, it seems he isn’t going to continue. That he isn’t going to return the subtle admittance you had given him. But then…
“I know I am,” he says, voice ever so slightly quieter, eyes gazing into yours.
For the rest of that campaign, every time he sits down at the table he says something like “Perhaps we will be treated to another lovely performance tonight?~” He just likes to mess with you. <3
Adeline
At your initial hesitation, Adeline reaches across the table and takes your hand. She gives it a comforting squeeze. “Don’t let the boys push you into anything you don’t want,” she says, casting a look at Balor, Eiland, and Holt.
Her hand holding yours gives you the courage to try singing a little something. You give her a thankful smile and gently pull free of her touch.
You sing a song you feel suits the setting of your campaign. The rest of the table listens in rapt attention. Adeline is the first to speak when you finish.
“I can’t believe you are shy about singing, Farmer! You sound wonderful!” You blush at how genuine she sounds.
You can tell she truly means it when, as the night goes on, every time you choose to sing as an action, her whole face lights up and she leans her body toward your side of the table. You’re not even sure she realizes she’s doing it. (She doesn’t; Eiland informs her later.)
Eiland
Unlike when he prevents Holt from regaling the table with two hour ballads, Eiland is happy to let you sing as long as you want the second the first note falls from your lips. He is utterly enamored.
He is so enamored, in fact, that our dragonmaster merely stares at you in awe when you finish, his mouth forming a small ‘o.’ It is only when his sister kindly calls his name that he clears his throat.
“Ah, my apologies, all! Thank you for that lovely performance, Farmer. And you rolled a twenty, so the goblins surrounding the party are utterly enchanted by your song.” Eiland feels a tiny blush light up his cheeks as he realizes he’s describing himself in that moment, not just some fictional enemies.
He doesn’t want to put any pressure on you, but he secretly really hopes you keep playing as a bard in games. He can’t think of any other ways to hear you sing again besides just asking, and that’s too forward!
At a festival, singing on stage because you admitted to Elsie that it’s a hobby of yours and now she insists - March, Ryis, Valen
March
Wow, he thinks. They’re good. He merely listens for a few moments, enjoying the way you lose yourself in the music.
Your smile gets wider as the song progresses. He unknowingly grins at the sight. Then Olric gives him a happy, knowing look, and he frowns, averting his gaze.
The song reaches a crescendo. Your voice carries across the square, and more villagers are drawn over.
March feels a twisting in his gut. He knows this feeling. Jealousy. He had it often when you first came to town – everyone was gushing over you. As the song comes to a close, and everyone around him applauds, he feels it again. But it’s different this time.
You make eye contact with him from the stage and it hits him in a rush. He’s not jealous of you anymore – he’s jealous of everyone around you. The way they so effortlessly express their adoration for you. Why can’t I do that? He grits his teeth. Wait- fuck. I adore them?
Ryis
“Look at you!” Ryis exclaims as you approach him after finishing your song. “You’re a natural up there. You didn’t tell me stage presence was part of an adventurer’s toolkit.” He winks and you laugh.
Well, now he was treated to two lovely sounds today; your singing voice and your laugh. Not that he was going to say that out loud. Not yet, anyway.
The two of you walk away chatting as Elsie takes the stage to sing a song of her own.
He asks if you’ve ever performed before; you must have to be that good! You confirm that you have, from time to time. But you add that you like it as a once in a while thing; quieter activities are more suited to you. Like birdwatching with him.
“You like birdwatching with me?” He asks, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. At your confirmation, he smiles. “Well, next time, why don’t we see if the birds will sing with you?”
Valen
It’s after the festivities die down that Valen approaches you. “I apologize for not seeking you out earlier, but it looked like you had quite a fan club gathered around you after your performance.” You both chuckle.
“I’ll admit, I understand their excitement.” The doctor meets your gaze with her own. “I wanted to find a quiet moment to tell you that I also enjoyed your singing today. I didn’t know it was something you liked to do.”
Valen knows you as one of the kindest, most dependable people she has ever met. You’re constantly running around, helping everyone with their problems and encouraging them to achieve their goals. She wants to know more of this casual side of you, more about the things you do to bring yourself joy. She decides to create an opportunity for her to do that. To see more of you.
“I happen to have a tea many singers in the capital drink to keep their voices healthy. I keep it in stock for Elsie. Perhaps you’d like to stop by the clinic for a cup?”
While helping him tend to his small garden, singing softly to yourself on instinct - Caldarus
Caldarus stops and listens to you, smiling. All thoughts of the task at hand leave him in favor of your voice.
While reaching for your watering can, you notice him staring and realize you were singing without even meaning to. You quickly apologize, explaining it’s automatic for you – it’s something you always do while tending your own fields.
“I remember,” he replies. “I will admit that I actually miss waking to the sound of your voice on wind in the morning. That was one good thing about being in my previous form.” Yes, he just said he misses hearing you sing to your crops every morning. You heard him right.
Even so, you still feel the need to ask for confirmation. “Really? You do?” You ask, voice small.
“I do.” He says, tone full of warmth. “In fact, I would enjoy it immensely if you continued where you left off before. Don’t let my presence stop you.”
Relaxing at the bathhouse, singing contentedly as you wash yourself and soak - Juniper
Sitting at the front desk of the bathhouse, Juniper’s eye twitches from boredom. That is, until she hears something.
From inside the baths, your voice rings out. You’re singing. That’s new. Though, she honestly is almost never around when you actually use the bathhouse. Often you just stop by to talk to her.
Dozy gets up from his bed and walks to her. “You like their voice, too, then?” She asks him. He gives her a look in return. One that says, You admit you like it?
“They can’t hear me from in there,” the sorceress shrugs. And then, just as Dozy begins to head back to his bed, she turns.
“You,” she says, pointing a finger at him, “will not say a word to them about this. Understood?” The goodest boy merely lays back down, silent.
When you leave, Juni asks what song you were singing. You seem surprised she heard you. “You’re not exactly quiet,” she says. “But it wasn’t torture, stuck here listening.”
March was touch-starved. But he preferred the sting in his eyes when your face fell as he pulled away from you to the ache in his heart when he let himself hold you. At least, that’s how it was at first.
a/n: this was meant to be a drabble in response to a request for more march smut, but i got a little bit carried away!
notes/warnings: smut below the cut (18+ only mdni), magically protected unprotected p i v, oral sex (f. receiving), come eating, slight angst, porn with feelings, happy ending
word count: 2.1k
When you first got together, March wasn’t much of a cuddler. He was touch starved, sure, and his hands were glued to your form during your couplings. Squeezing your breasts, your hips, your thighs as he moved inside you. Fingers tangled in their grip on your hair while he fucked you hard and deep. He could write that contact off as mere attraction. As casual sex. That wasn’t what he was afraid of.
But the feeling that bloomed deep in his chest when he held you after your trysts? That terrified him. So did the way his heart hammered within his ribcage as his eyes followed you down his street, your worn boots heavy against the stone as you marched towards him at his anvil. It used to annoy him, the way you seemed to stomp everywhere. You didn’t do it out of anger, but out of some childish carelessness that he didn’t understand.
“I wont hurt the stone, will I? I’m not that strong! It’s just how I walk!” you had told him one day, laughing.
That annoyance had melted into a fondness that he didn’t want to acknowledge. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way his lips tugged upwards in a smile when he saw you tread softly across the grass of the town’s gardens, or as you carefully snaked your way through the fields on your farm as he watched you water the crops each morning.
He stood by the window, when he woke up in your farmhouse. He’d mumble something about being too tired to walk home as he lay in your bed the night before, turning his back to you before drifting off to the sound of your breathing. He’d wake up to a cold bed, padding across the wooden floor to admire you through panes of glass, head peeking out from behind your half-drawn curtains. Quickly darting back into cover whenever you turned towards the farmhouse.
March was touch-starved. But he preferred the sting in his eyes when your face fell as he pulled away from you to the ache in his heart when he let himself hold you. At least, that’s how it was at first.
During your first winter together, you huddled under his covers, warming up after the walk from your farm. You were shivering. He didn’t like the way your hands looked a little bloodless when you took off your mittens. So he warmed your freezing fingers with his own. He didn’t pull away when you pressed against the warmth of his body in his bed. Logically, he knew your chill wasn’t dangerous. The crisp air wasn’t cold enough to cause any real damage— the wind was just especially bad that day.
But as he saw you made weak with the cold, his headstrong farmer with the booming steps and the warm laugh that filled any room effortlessly, something uneasy bubbled within him. He realized there was something that scared him more than the love he felt for you (because he knew deep down that it was love). What scared him most was losing you.
And as much as you wanted him (he could tell you loved him too), he could see your hope waning day by day. Each time he turned his back to you as he fell asleep. Each time he grunted in greeting instead of pulling you into a tight hug and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Each time he insisted you infuriated him more than anyone else he had ever met (that much was true, just not in the way you thought).
And he knew that someday you would leave him. You would find someone else. Maybe Hayden, maybe Celine. Maybe one of the other eligible singles in town. You’d find someone who would give you the affection you craved. The affection you deserved. The affection he was too much of a coward to give.
Maybe you’d even leave Mistria altogether. Erase him from your life completely. Your hope that he would ever want you as anything more than a warm body to lose himself in would fade altogether. Because you didn’t realize he hadn’t just lost himself in your body. He had also lost himself in your soul.
Maybe it was good that he was a coward. Because he was too terrified of losing you to let it happen.
That winter night, once your body was finally warm against his, he didn’t pull away from where he spooned you. He traced the curve where your hips dipped into your waist. He snaked his hand beneath your sweater as you breathed his name like a prayer. Like a prayer that you never thought he would answer. But his hand cupped your breast with a tenderness that was always absent before. You tried to hide your gasp at the touch.
He finally let himself to map your body with the care it deserved. His touch was less sex and more adoration. But that didn’t stop his cock from growing hard against your ass as you writhed back into him, his fingers almost ticklish against your skin.
He finally dipped his hand into your underwear, already damp. You were desperate for him, grinding against his palm.
“I don’t just love your body.” March’s voice was a whisper as his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. “Love the rest of you, too.”
He didn’t let you answer before he slid a finger into your slick heat. His finger moved slowly at first, stretching you out at a languid pace. When he added a second, it slid in with ease. His other hand was nestled beneath you, holding tight across your front. Holding your back against his chest so there was no room between you.
“Let me get you ready, baby. Don’t wanna hurt you ever again.”
He kept stretching you out, moans falling from your lips until you found three words that had been straining to get out for minutes while he fucked you with his fingers.
“You love me?”
Your voice was coated in disbelief, in forbidden hope. He felt a dampness beneath his cheek, from where your tears had stained the pillow. He began to retract his fingers from you, pulling back so that you could face him. But you whined at the loss of contact.
“Don’t stop, March, please—” he could hear the tears in your voice before you looked behind you to meet his gaze.
March was stunned as he watched tears stain your cheeks. He wasn’t good with feelings. That was why he kept them in check, denied them, hid them. His stomach felt like it was in a free-fall. He had no clue why you were crying, but he used the edge of his palm to wipe your face, his blue sleeve made darker with your tears.
“A- are you okay?”
He cursed how weak he sounded. That he did this to you. He was trying to make things better between you. Now it seemed like he had only made them worse.
But you just smiled up at him, eyes still painting your cheeks with a glittering sheen.
“Never been better.”
Relief was like a balm. He finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.
You turned your back to him again. But it wasn’t the same as what he did to you every night you shared a bed. You ground your ass against his crotch, his hard-on a little softer now from his misreading of the situation.
“Need you, March,” you whined, face half-pressed against the mattress for leverage.
The need in your voice sent blood straight back to his cock. It wasn’t long before he was inside you with his cock instead of his fingers. Both your clothes were discarded somewhere in the covers, your back pressed against his chest again. Your slickness welcomed him home, sliding against his glides in and out as he fucked you soft and slow. He didn’t need to thrust hard to find that spot that had you keening. He buried his face against your hair as you took each other lazily, your hips moving back to meet each languid thrust. You smelled like lilac and fresh snow.
He told himself you wouldn’t be able to hear the words if he said them into your hair. He knew that he was lying to himself. But that didn’t stop him from chanting muffled I love you’s like a mantra.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
His pace slowed so he could move himself on top of you. He repositioned his cock, desperate to feel your heat around him once again. His elbows rested on either side of your head so he could watch your every expression as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. No words left his lips now, like you had cast a spell that he didn’t want to break. So as he rolled his hips against yours, he drank in the sight of you to the sound of your wetness and his movements within it. To the sweet little moans you made while he pleasured you.
He wanted to see your face while you came on his cock. He moved one hand down, down, down, until he could rub soft circles against your clit. You bucked up into him, urging him faster, needing more. The pace of his finger matched that of his thrusts as he brought both of you closer to the edge. He became frantic, sloppy, hips stuttering inside you while you cried out his name. He felt you clench around him while you came, and he fucked you gently through your orgasm before snapping his hips hard against yours to chase his own release.
He felt your sweet walls against his cock, bare thanks to a contraception charm from Juniper and a clear health check-up from Valen. He loved feeling your skin against his, nothing separating him from the deepest parts of you. He finished inside you with a groan, fucking his spend deeper within you as he rode out his orgasm.
His lips found yours in a tender kiss before pulling away to trace them down your body. His tongue circled your nipple, sucking gently before moving farther down. When he finally reached your center, he licked long and slow through your folds, tasting the mix of your pleasure and his. He cleaned his mess from your hole, fucking you with his tongue before moving back up to lick and suck and kiss your clit. You came against his diligent mouth, fingers tangled in his hair like a vice.
Later, he pulled you to the bathroom connected to his bedroom, letting you sit on the toilet while he warmed up the shower for you both. He hadn’t bathed with you before. Just another closeness he didn’t allow himself. As he kissed you beneath the spray of his shower-head, he promised to never hold himself back from you again.
So, when the two of you climbed beneath his covers, skin fresh and soft from your shared shower, he didn’t pull away or turn his back. He fell asleep with your head resting against his chest, heart full with the knowledge you could hear its beat. And he hoped you knew that it beat only for you.
Before you both drifted off, he heard a mumbled “I love you, too.”
Once that barrier within him was broken, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. In public, it was casual affection, a hand on the small of your back, a quick peck on the cheek. In private, he wanted to be near you whether or not you were fucking, his skin yearning for the comfort of your own. You rolled your eyes when he insisted you share the same cushion on your yellow couch while you read him adventure novels, insisting that you were too far. But he caught the way you would smile as you scooted closer and leaned into him. The light from the hearth painting your hair in warmth as you shook your head slightly and scanned the page for where you had left off.
Your shared life sprouted in little moments like that, finding comfort in each other. He wasn’t sure if he deserved you or the happiness you brought him. But he was tired of fighting it. So his lips curved into a resigned grin, and he pulled you even closer.
thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it, please let me know in the replies or reblogs!! i've been writing more for logan recently, but you can have some march as a treat :-)
Pairing: march/farmer (fields of mistria)
Word Count: 2.5k
Summary: It's your first Halloween in Mistria, and you're excited for the costume party at the inn. One small problem: you accidentally match your costume with the worst possible person.
Tag: halloween, mild language, enemies to something, everyone ships you with march except march, friday night at the inn, unresolved romantic tension
Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics
HALLOWEEN AT THE INN.
Maybe the Kiki costume is too on the nose.
While you’re technically the new farmer of the town, tending your crops has recently begun to feel like a secondary job to the impromptu delivery service you’ve tripped into.
Not that you mind — if Hayden leaves a communal bulletin stating he needs an egg, then you’re more than happy to pop by and deliver.
(Though… doesn’t he technically own a ranch? Why would he need more eggs?)
Whatever.
Not your problem, just your solution.
Tonight marks your first-ever costume party at the inn.
While it’s been a town tradition for years, perhaps even decades, you find Hemlock stating that this year simply feels different.
Lighter, maybe. More exciting.
(Because the town needs a little excitement that isn’t privy towards an earthquake.)
You stand in front of your elongated mirror tucked against your bookshelves, tugging at the purple-blue skirt skimming your thighs.
It isn’t difficult to guess what you’re dressed as: between the massive bright bow wrapped around your head like a headband, the flats, the smock dress, and the stuffed black cat tucked under your arm, you should hope your friends know what you’re dressed as.
Kiki, the delivery service girl from the Studio Ghibli movie of similar title.
With one last huff of anxiety, you turn for the front door and trudge through your dilapidated (see: work in progress) farm to make your way towards the heart of town.
Josephine has already decked out the front with strings of paper bats and pumpkins lining the doors to the inn. The gentle glow of recently-carved pumpkins framing said doors with the bails of hay you donated to tonight’s event brings a nostalgic warmth to your heart.
You can’t remember the last time you went to a Halloween event, much less a costume party.
As your hand reaches for the door, you’re met with a sudden burst of wind.
The door flies open towards you, revealing a button-nosed Dell peering up from her perch. Whiskers streak her rosy cheeks, the black cat ears a stark contrast to her cropped blonde hair.
“You’re here!” she chirps excitedly, beaming up at you.
“Hey, Dell,” you greet politely, opening the door for her.
It appears the rascals of Mistria are following in tow — as they tend to do all over town in a troop — all equal parts dressed up as various animals.
Maple has a small painted bunny nose with tall ears in her hair.
In true Luc fashion, a spider body with fuzzy arms attached to his appendages. He doesn’t look the least bit comfortable, but he’s clearly excited to be an arachnid nonetheless.
“Are you Kiki this year?” Dell inquires.
Luc fixes his glasses with his many arms before perking up at your added props. “Whoa, and you have Jiji with you!”
Dell gets this look on her face, as if knowing something you don't know, but you think nothing of it at the time.
“Celine is back by the kitchen with Adaline and Orlic,” Maple suggests as if assuming you’re looking for the eldest sister.
Celine had been one of your first friends in town, so it’s no surprise to you that one would anticipate you would gravitate right towards them.
However, hearing Orlic’s name in the mix makes your stomach flip-flop, because—
.
.
— —
.
.
Well, let’s get it out of the way early.
For the record, you love to spend your time at the blacksmith shop.
For the past month you’ve been hard at work in the mines, exploring the ins and outs of such a mysterious place, so naturally you’ve come to the shop to forge your tools and weapons.
And you’ve gotten good at offering a helping hand when it comes to blacksmithing.
Like, really good.
So good that Orlic has even set up a little spot for you to consolidate and work.
—only issue is that it’s right next to March’s bench.
March.
The bane of your existence, if you ever had one.
The naysayer that wants you gone from this damn town.
The only person in town who seems to have a big problem with you being here.
You wish you understood why — it isn’t like you did anything wrong to him.
You show up to the shop with an ever-revolving door of gifts from the mines.
Slowly but surely, you’ve learned what each brother likes. Olric is easy to please: he’s happy to take any stone you find, hoping one day to find a gem in the rough.
March, however…
He couldn’t care less that you show up after a long day’s work, dirtied and exhausted, holding out a piece of copper ore like a proverbial olive branch.
(Tch, he clicks with his tongue like clockwork, I could do better.)
Still, you persist.
Because deep down, you don’t think March actually hates you.
Orlic has said it time and time again — his brother can be tough to get used to, but that’s because he doesn’t have many friends. A loner at heart; March would rather sit in solace and march (no pun intended) to the beat of his own drum.
He likes you in his own way!
If it wasn’t for one of the first nights at the inn, then you wouldn’t believe it.
You distinctly remember walking in with Adeline after accomplishing a renovation of a bridge (to nowhere, you’d like to preface, but a job’s a job) when a voice jumped out from the fray of baseline chatter.
“Yo, farmer!”
Slurred, maybe, but after so much time at the blacksmith shop, you know it well.
However there’s little bite to March as he stands from his bar stool, face flushed with a flourishing pink as he sips from his mug.
He makes it a point to poke his head over his brother’s to see your face, and he…
Smiles.
Not in mockery.
Not in hatred.
A real, bonafide, drunk-as-a-skunk smile.
“Come here,” he hiccups, sloshing some beer as he tries to beckon you closer. “C’mere—”
You don’t think March remembers, but he talked to you.
For three hours straight, actually, about nothing in particular.
Your farm.
Your week.
Your future plans.
Chin dropped to his propped-up fist, his eyes are hazy, but he listens. Intently. Like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say.
At first it was jarring, especially since Orlic hopped up to give you his seat and never returned, but after twenty or so minutes it was… nice.
The next morning you were strangers.
Six straight days of snappy remarks, but without as much bite.
By the time Friday rolled around again, you found him in the same position — drinking, happily enjoying a communal game, while waving to you periodically to get your attention while you’re busy spending time discussing the week with Celine and Reina.
You want to ask Orlic.
Hell, you want to ask anyone to make sure you’re not imagining the once-a-week friendliness.
But you don’t.
You just endure six whole days until the next Friday rolls around.
.
.
— —
.
.
As the kids shuffle out of the inn to get some air, you walk into the festively-decorated venue looking for a drink.
Reina had said something about themed finger-foods and drinks, both mocktail and cocktail, that she was beyond proud of.
There’s a circle near the tail end of the bar where Celine, Reina, Orlic, and Ryis all chat. Ryis has gone traditional cowboy, while Reina and Celine match in regency ball gowns, presumably a period-piece costume. Orlic is standing in an inflatable dinosaur costume, so you can only make out the visor of his eyes in the blow-up ensemble.
And when their eyes land on you, they stop talking completely.
At first it feels normal, albeit intimidating, but you wave and walk over anyway.
(Why has Ryis’ jaw dropped to the floor? And why is he excusing himself with a little laugh?)
“Hey, guys!” you greet as cheerily as you can, and Celine gives a look to Reina.
…huh.
The same kind of look Dell had on her face, like there’s something unspoken being passed around by your appearance.
“Oh — hello,” Celine replies in her musical voice, curtseying in character. “Lovely costume!”
“Yeah, it looks amazing on you,” Reina adds, but she keeps looking around.
You feel like there’s something you’re missing.
Staring down the cat and broomstick in your arms, you open your mouth to compliment them in return, but—
“So that’s why March didn’t want to match with me!”
Orlic pipes up, his dinosaur suit squishing and swishing around as he holds his arms out.
“I would have never guessed you’d plan a costume together,” pipes up Celine, shoulders deflating as if glad someone brought up the elephant in the room.
Except you can’t see said elephant — it’s still invisible.
“I… sorry,” you start, fixing your bow. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t have to be coy, Kiki,” Reina teases with a wave of her hand. “I think it’s cute!”
“But what’s cute?” you urge. “I feel like there’s something—”
“Hey, nerds, I got us the stupid punch. You could’ve told me the ladle was for baby hands. Took me like five minutes to make four drinks.”
At the sound of a gruff, annoyed voice, you turn—
Oh.
Oh, no.
March stares back at you through black-rimmed glasses with equal horror, sloshing one of the drinks he’s delicately balancing in his hands in a diamond.
His hair’s a little flatter than usual, but the fluff fights the frizz of the heated inn. On his body is a striped red and white t-shirt, along with some light blue denim jeans rolled up at the ankles.
The costume is just as distinct as yours.
Tombo.
“The hell are you wearing?” he blurts directly at you, and you hear a high-pitched giggle of excitement behind you come from Celine.
“I… a costume,” you lamely reply.
March scowls. “Yeah, genius, I know that it's a costume 'cus you never wear bows.”
“Yes, I do?”
“Not as big as that one!” he snaps. “They’re always smaller or, like… two, on either side of your— Whatever! But why that costume?”
“Thanks for the drinks, little bro!” Orlic happily states, waddling around you in order to gingerly pick up his punch. “We’re gonna go see how the mummy-wrapping game is going.”
March's eyes shoot wide in confusion.
“Huh?”
“Yeah,” Reina adds, taking two drinks for her and Celine, before giving one back. “Actually, I’m totally hydrated. Our lovely Kiki might need a drink. You two have fun.”
“Huh?!”
March’s head whips side to side so fast that you expect the glasses to fly off of the bridge of his nose.
You stand with your plushie cat and broom, blindsided by the matching outfits.
Oh, god — it clicks.
They think the two of you secretly conspired together to do a couples costume.
That’s not good.
“Why’d everyone leave?” March grumbles. “It took a lot of damn effort not to spill those drinks.”
When you say nothing, he reluctantly returns his attention to you and holds out a drink.
“For the record, I planned to be Tombo before you even got to town, Farmer Girl.”
“I put together whatever I had in my suitcase,” you confess, taking the drink from his hand.
“Sure you didn’t sneak a peek of my costume hangin’ up when you were at the shop?” he accuses, squinting while he sips on his alcoholic punch.
“No, March,” you groan, dropping your head back. “Trust me, I don’t want to be matching with you, either.”
In true March fashion, he contradicts himself without missing a beat.
“Why the hell not?”
“Why?”
“Yeah, what’s so bad about matching me?”
“Because people will think—”
“So?”
“So?” you repeat, slightly higher pitched. “Uh, hello, it’s your worst nightmare?”
“Nah, dressing up as a t-rex is my worst nightmare,” he corrects, like everyone knows this vital piece of information about him. “Orlic was pretty hell bent on getting us to match this year, but I wasn’t sweating my ass off in a damn blow-up suit.”
“And accidentally matching with me is significantly less than that?”
March pauses, marinating on the words, before growing silent to sip more of his drink.
Exasperated, you throw your hands up and switch plushie Jiji from one arm to the other.
“Well, I’ll go home and change. Maybe I have a black shirt and jeans.”
Surely you have to have something basic in your arsenal, even if you were really excited for this costume. But the implication is rearing its ugly head into a territory you’re not sure you went to venture into.
Friendship with the one guy who hates your guts, or worse.
Yet his voice rumbles against the lip of his cup. “What’s a black shirt and pants combo gonna be for a costume?”
“I don’t know, a cat?”
“But Dell’s already a cat.”
“Then a raven! I don’t know.”
March snorts, shaking his head. He uses his free hand to push his fake glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“That’s dumb. Just keep being Kiki.”
The huff out your mouth is laced with disbelief. “And what, have you be my Tombo?”
You don’t mean the words to come out as harshly as they do, but the options to rectify this awkward situation are limited.
It’s either he changes, you change, or—
Well, or you match with your sworn enemy of the town.
Both of you stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the rest of the party rage on.
For what feels like hours, neither of you speak.
A few people greet the two of you, but beyond your initial friend group, no one else seems surprised to see the two of you in a common duo costume.
“I like your bow, by the way.”
The words are so quiet that you almost think you caught wind of a ghost.
Turning your head, the sight before you is one you’ve grown accustomed to: March’s cheeks are flushed, sprinkled with an embarrassed pink.
He side-eyes you, studying the bow before flickering his attention to your face.
You sip your drink, trying your best to look neutral.
“I… think you look nice with glasses.”
That pink turns into crimson, and he buries his head into his chest like he wants to curl into himself to hide the fact that your compliment affects him so deeply.
“...thanks.”
With a curt nod, you bring the cup back to your lips, only to realize it’s only left with ice.
Huh. You didn’t think you drank it all down.
In your peripheral you see it, but it doesn’t register until something warm lands on your hand —
March’s fingers overlap yours, gently nudging the cup out of your grip and into his.
“You're empty,” he mumbles. “I’ll get you some more.”
Before you can protest, he turns on a heel and rushes back to the punch cauldron. The blush goes so far as to creep up the nape of his neck and into his dyed-red hair.
You watch him disappear, your stomach flip-flopping with anxiety and…
Butterflies?
Weird. That’s new.
(But that’s how it goes on Friday night at the inn.)
.
author's note:
I wrote this in about an hour because I have been dying to try my hand at an FoM fic, and since I'm in a very Halloween-y mood, I figured I could write a little cute heart event for March!
If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! What other costumes do you think March would be cute in? Let me know in the comments! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, etc.)
All the ways Fawn could have told Hayden she was ready to start having kids, and she went and chose the cheekiest way she could think of. Typical. an 18+ farmer/hayden fic that's been bouncing around my noggin since the full release announcement!
“Think he’ll get it right away? Or will it take him a minute?”
Fawn glances beside her to where Henrietta is perched, prim as you please, on her favourite stool. The chicken chirps in the way she always seems to when she’s particularly amused, and Fawn snorts in response.
“Maybe more than a minute, then.”
She fiddles with the plate in front of her, turning it this way and that. She senses Henrietta in her periphery, slowly stretching her neck in the direction of the countertop, and Fawn clicks her tongue.
“Oh no, miss ma’am. You’ve already had your cookie. Besides, it’ll spoil the whole thing if there’s only one cookie on the plate.”
Henrietta fluffs her feathers indignantly. It’s a testament to the bond they’ve forged that she doesn’t immediately kick up a fuss, instead choosing to settle back down into the stool cushion with an annoyed squawk. She’s rewarded with a gentle scritch on the top of her head.
“That’s my girl.”
Fawn looks back to the plate, where two dark red, heart shaped cookies are resting. Hayden is still outside, giving everything a tie-down and a once-over before the thunderstorm that’s been hovering over the roiling ocean blows their way.
She rubs her hand over her chest, resting it briefly over where her poor heart is absolutely pounding away beneath her ribs.
Fawn didn’t anticipate feeling THIS nervous. She and Hayden have talked about their mutual desire for children, after all. At length. With an increasing degree of intensity. Their last conversation on the matter had been just before their wedding, with Hayden making it absolutely, implicitly clear that he left the decision regarding ‘when’ in her hands alone.
“It’s your body, darlin’,” he’d said, in that gentle way of his that’s so sincere it’s almost painful. “You’re the one who says go. I can wait however long you need.”
Fawn chuckles fondly at the memory. She’s very sure that her husband has mentally prepared himself for a much longer wait than the scant six months it’s been. It’s heart-meltingly generous of him, considering how very badly he wants this - and it’s also wholly unnecessary.
She is good to go.
The front door swings open, and Hayden tromps in, beaming wide when he spots Fawn and Henrietta.
“There’s my girls,” he booms, pleased as punch. He promptly slides off his boots and makes his way over to the kitchen. Henrietta gets a peck and a ruffle (which the chicken responds to with an affectionate chirp, before hopping off the stool and waddling off, no doubt to see if she can force her way into the pantry to peck at the dry grains again), and then he’s sliding his arms around Fawn’s waist. Their bodies are flush as he kisses her, and she winds her arms up and around the back of his neck. Her fingers weave their way into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and he hums happily against her mouth.
Fawn feels the tight bundle of nerves sitting in her chest loosen, ever so slightly. She pulls back enough to look up at her husband, basking in the way his eyes are sparkling (just for her, only for her).
“I made something for you.”
Hayden’s eyebrows raise, and he tilts his head, grin splitting his face even wider.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhmm,” Fawn affirms. She presses another kiss to the corner of his lips, and extracts herself from his arms before he can chase her down for another. She motions casually (she hopes) at the plate on the counter.
“Cookies. Want milk?”
She ambles over to the fridge, not a care in the world. The very picture of nonchalance. Now, if he could somehow hear her hummingbird heart fluttering away, he’d be getting a different picture entirely, but that’s neither here nor there.
Fawn hears his huff of a laugh as he spots what’s on the plate, and her cheeks immediately tingle with heat. She turns, watching him intently as he picks up a cookie.
“Cute,” he chuckles, examining the red heart. “Yanno, if it weren’t for the colour, I’d swear it was one of the breeding treats.”
Fawn raises her eyebrow, saying nothing. Hayden looks up at her and immediately tilts his head, uncertainty slightly dimming his smile. He presses his lips together, and his brow furrows a bit before he continues.
“It’s not, though.”
It’s less of a statement, more of a question. Now it’s Fawn who can’t help but chuckle.
“Well, not really. At least, not for the animals.”
She swears she can hear the gears turning in his head as he looks at the cookie again, and then back at her, then back down at the cookie. It’s downright fascinating, watching his expression morph from confusion, to hesitant curiosity, then to sudden clarity, before finally settling on shock.
Hayden slowly sets the cookie down, clearing his throat as he does. He folds his arms over his chest and dips his head as he levels his gaze at Fawn.
“Now, I can’t be entirely certain, but I feel like you’re trying to tell me somethin’ here. Is… is that…” He huffs, and Fawn’s stomach does a flip at how very flustered he is. He’s trying so hard to reign it in that he’s very nearly shaking with the effort.
Fawn grins wide. She mimics his stance, leaning a hip against the counter as she crosses her arms.
“See, I thought about going with something more obvious, but a banner that says ‘breed me, daddy’ felt a little gauche.”
Hayden drops his arms to his side. His face goes bright red as immediately as if someone had flipped an internal switch, his breath leaving him in a low, punched-out gasp. He reaches out to steady himself on the counter, mouth opening and closing a few times before he manages to choke out a response.
“It… it’s only been six months. Since we were married.”
Fawn makes a show of turning to look at their wall calendar, humming as she peers.
“Oh! So it has. Would you look at that!”
Hayden’s soft brown eyes have gone impossibly wide, giving him the energy of a very startled deer, and Fawn finds herself having to bite back a giggle.
“I told you, you could take as much time as you wanted,” he murmurs. “Baby, I didn’t want you to feel pressured. There’s no rush.”
“Yes, I do remember that conversation,” she confirms, smiling serenely as her husband continues to gawp at her. He seems to be waiting for her to finish her thought. Another giggle bubbles up, this time breaking containment - followed by another as Hayden’s face somehow goes even redder at the sound. He clucks his tongue, doing his best to sound chastising.
“Fawn.”
“Hayden.”
“Fawn!”
“Hayden,” she says slowly. “My love.”
Fawn drops the lilting tease from her voice, employing something more intense, more firm. She takes a step forward and into her husband’s space, resting her hands on his chest. And oh, if she thought her heart was beating hard and fast, it’s nothing compared to the wild rhythm of his pounding away under her palm.
Hayden seems to be struggling to breathe properly, let alone form words. He puts his hands on his hips, blinking quickly, looking past Fawn and out the kitchen window. He breathes in and releases it slowly as Fawn rubs slow, soothing circles on his chest.
“And you’re sure?”
He turns his gaze back to her, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and Fawn just about melts into a puddle on the tile floor beneath her feet. The excitement is finally there, crackling away at the edge of Hayden's tentative smile, and she beams in response, laughing softly. She raises her hands to his face then, and he stares at her like she’s confessing to hanging the stars in the sky just for him.
“If my gorgeous, kind, perfect husband,” she coos, punctuating each compliment with a kiss to his jaw, his cheek, his lips, “doesn’t try to put a baby in me this very instant, I’m gonna start taking it personally.”
The noise that comes out of Hayden’s mouth is equal parts a laugh and a groan, and quick as a flash he hoists her up into his arms. She’s plunked down on the counter just as fast, and she manages to let out a sharp squeal of surprise in response before his mouth is on hers again.
Fawn moans against Hayden, opening her mouth to allow for his eager, needy kiss to deepen. She captures his waist with her legs and pulls him tight against her, and tangles her fingers tightly into his thick hair once more. He rolls his hips against her core, their moans meeting and mingling like lovers.
Hayden is already panting when he pulls back next. He rests his forehead against hers for just a moment; then he’s nuzzling against her cheek before locking eyes yet again.
“Now, when you said this very instant…”
The low, halfway to wrecked timbre of his voice makes her shiver, and she tips her head back, laughing breathlessly. Hayden can’t seem to help himself at the sight; he leans right in, grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin of her throat.
“What kind of tease do you - oh! - take me for?”
She’s still giggling, even as his hands work their way under her shirt and the laughter has to share space with gasps.
“I timed this right, I’ll have you know. We’ve got a whole five days ahead of us to - ahh, love - to give it a solid first try.”
Hayden’s grin widens against her neck; when he pulls back this time, he’s wearing an absolutely wicked expression. His pupils are so blown out that his eyes look black; Fawn’s stomach swoops again and the heat building at her core downright throbs.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he rumbles, deep voice vibrating through her like a bass line as he lifts her shirt up and over her head. His wide hands spread over the soft skin of her belly, resting there briefly like an unspoken prayer, before continuing onward and upward to the even softer flesh of her breasts.
“That’s exactly what I was hopin’ you’d say.”
Fawn isn’t some hopelessly optimistic fool. She’s also aware she’s no spring chicken, and that Hayden is older still. She knows how low the odds are that their very first try will be successful. It’s more than likely that it’ll take a couple of months to a year; gods know she’s willing to wait. She can be patient.
But later, when Hayden is fucking her deep into their mattress, groaning her name into her ear around a whispered litany of his love, and the thunder from the storm raging just outside their bedroom window whipcracks through the air at the very same moment she wails her own release, she feels her traitorous heart clench with a sudden and sure burst of hope.
———
[here’s the link if you’d prefer to read this on AO3]
sparring lessons | Balor x Farmer (gender neutral)
Summary: The Dragonguard has enlisted in your help into teaching them how to fend off the Demon Lord's army, only to be ambushed by his highest general, the Dark Knight!
OR
The kids rope you into their antics along with Balor :)
You let out a yawn as these morning hours still haven't become your norm yet as you tend your fields. Summer has finally taken its leave which now welcomes the comfortable autumn breeze. You stretch your arms above your head as you take the last of your produce and put them in your shipping bin for Balor to pick up, but you notice he hasn’t grabbed yesterday's shipment yet. You found it odd, he’s usually punctual and on time when it comes to doing business. Something must have kept him busy in the early morning you thought to yourself. Deciding to stay put on the farm to do some more maintenance and clean up, you also wanted to catch him and talk to him a little bit to see if he was okay.
When you first came to Mistria, the second you saw him across that broken bridge you were charmed by him. The way he spoke and the air of mystery that lingers around him has caught your attention. Not to mention he was very attractive, it was hard for you not to stare into his eyes longer than necessary. He was also very kind to you, telling you that he was also new to Mistria, it felt like you two were in this together starting new. It felt less isolating then you thought it would be, so you appreciated his company very much.
The whole town was very welcoming to you both, and even though the town knew about your history about being a knight and an adventurer, Balor still lives in a clouded ambiance of uncertainty. You knew never to push him into talking, but you did catch wind that the capital wasn’t fair to him, he had mysterious supply sources and he knew knife tricks that he wanted to teach Maple. The last thought always made you laugh, thinking about Reina reprimanding Balor for even the thought of it.
As you finish up chores, you see the town’s Dragonguard crossing the small bridge that leads to your farm and waving enthusiastically at you. You send them a big smile and wave back at them, putting away your farming gloves in your back pocket and as you make your way to the entrance.
“I see the town’s children have come to play here today.” Caldarus commends.
You smiled at him and gave him a nod, “I wonder what they have in store for us.”
“Farmer! Farmer!” Luc beams.
“No Luc, today the farmer is going to be our Hero Knight and teach us all the cool sword techniques they know!” Dell retorts.
“Am I now?” you chuckled,” Who told you I was teaching anything? And does your mom know about this?”
Maple gracefully walks ahead of the other two as showing her regal status and stands before you.
“The Queens know we’re here and said it’d be okay! We have an important mission we must do and we need to prepare, that’s why we’re enlisting your services today!”
“Yeah! The Demon Lord’s forces are making their way through the forest and we need to stop him before they reach town! Our bug army need’s reinforcements right away!”
You nod your head in agreement and place a finger on your cheek, emphasizing that you’re thinking hard about their plight.
“That does sound important.” you hummed, “I’ll better teach you what I can before they make their way here!”
The kids cheered as their eyes beamed brighter from your words, you couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm and a small chuckle from the dormant dragon statue.
You invite the kids to come more into your farm as you set up little test dummies for each child in a clear field, making sure they each have a safe space to play around and not hit each other by accident. The Dragonguards take a look around your farm and they each pick up a stick worthy of being a sword besides Dell, who is always carrying her trusted (stick) sword with her at all times. As they settle around the dummy, you dig out an old sparring sword that is just made of wood. These are kids after all, they don’t need to be anywhere near your arsenal of swords you keep from your adventuring days.
“Alright, so first things first you must know your fundamentals, and being in the right stance is crucial! Showing confidence in how you stand with your sword can intimidate your enemies which can give you an edge! Let’s start by placing your feet apart like this. Now, let me see what you got!”
The kids all copy your movement with eagerness and concentration as they seem to be taking your advice very seriously. Noting some little flaws, you help them adjust their stances and finally give your approval of a job well done.
“Amazing! Now to show you how to hold your sword. You want to keep your hands set in this position so you can have better control. Make sure your grip is strong, you don’t want someone to parry you and have your sword fly away.”
“Can that really happen?” Dell questioned.
“It happened to me when I was just starting out as a knight, it can leave you open and vulnerable. Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made in the past, squires!”
The kids cheered and adjudgested their grip on their swords with more purpose than before. You began to show them certain swings and moves, ones that were taught to you when you were just accepted into the knight academy. You also taught them the importance of keeping balance and having a good foothold or the bad guys will come and get you. After you taught them the basics they start to practice their strikes on the poor wooden dummies. You observed their swings, messy but determined and you felt a sort of pride fill your chest.
You hear leaves crunching from someone's footsteps coming towards your home so you turn around to see Balor watching and observing the kids and their lessons. You were about to welcome him to the farm when you heard all the kids gasp and rush towards you. They each hugged either side of your leg and arm as they all pointed at Balor with astonishment.
“It’s the Demon Lord’s highest ranking general, the Dark Knight!” Dell announces to the group. You look at Balor and though he was surprised at first, it seems he caught wind that he has been recruited into their world of pretend. He grabs his cape and flings it apart for a dramatic entrance as he starts to chuckle. Unprompted, he seems to be really taking his role seriously which left you with a big smile on your face. It makes you think about the first spring when you both arrived and how he didn’t understand roleplaying while playing his first session of Dungeons and Drama. Now that it's autumn, it hits you how fast time has passed while living in Mistria.
“My, it seems I’ve finally found the Dragonguard’s secret hideout! If I capture the enemy's territory, we can finally take over Mistria and then all of Aldaria!”
“Not if the Dragonguard is still around! Hero Knight, you must stop him at once as your Queen!” Maple counters.
“No, let me go, Queen Maple! I was born to do this!” Dell insists.
“Dell, you have to protect the Queen! Let them handle this!”
“I’m counting on you to keep them safe Dell! I won’t let the Dragonguards down.” you assure.
They all nod their head in agreement and they stand back as you take out your wooden sword. For dramatics sake, you point the sword at Balor and puff your chest out, showing them the lessons you taught them how it's done.
“It’s not too late to turn back now Dark Knight! Retreat while you’re still able to.”
“I think I should be saying that to you, Hero Knight. If you give up now I’ll think about sparing your life.”
Balor finally draws out his own weapon, a simple copper sword. You weren’t threatened in the slightest, you know you weren’t in any real danger but all the kids scolds the Dark Knight how that is cheating.
“Who says villains play fair?” Balor touts, adding a couple of flashy swings for more dramatic effect.
“It’s okay Dragonguards, this will be over before you know it.”
You and Balor begin to circle one another as you try to build tension with the audience you have. Although it's not like the traditional sense of the word, you two were tangled in a tango. As you stare him down you can’t help but feel a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. His dark eyes pierce you as he watches your every move, and his silky hair flows against the comfortable breeze. As if the queue when he was ready to move, he gave you a wink and charged you with his sword drawn. His movements were slow on purpose so you can easily read to parry or move out of the way. You swords meet in the middle, taking note that his sword must be really dull if it didn’t even cut through your underrated one. You smile as you tell him with your eyes that you’ll be swinging your sword from the right. As on queue he dodges your swing and fixes his stance. You two begin to clash your weapons one after another, making sure to throw in some snazzy spins and over the top thrusts to really get the excitement in the air. Balor matches your pace, grinning as you make sure to sell the show to the kids and be wary of hurting him. He felt the feeling of endearment wash over him how domestic this feels. How playful this situation is.
You hear the children gasp in awe as the duel kept getting more hectic. They would cheer for you to take the Dark Knight down, and even call out moves to watch out for. They were the best little squires you ever had.
“Are you ready to end this, Hero?” Balor warns.
“Let’s put this to an end, Dark Knight!” You retorted with zest.
Now you can tell by your little ‘fight’ that Balor has actual knowledge in swordplay. As you two were going at it you noticed that his footwork was quick and clean, and he was very flexible. You felt if this was a real fight, he would be swift and graceful with his swings. You wondered what a real sparring secession would be like against him, maybe you’d like to find out one day.
As you both deal your final strikes, you deal one strike that was heavier than usual, making him loosen his grip and disrupt his posture. Taking this opportunity, you maneuver your sword to swing upwards, making Balor’s sword clash harshley against yours sending his flying out of his hand and into the ground behind him. He stumbles backwards and lands on his back, groaning at the fake pain and exhaustion he felt in the battle against you. You walk up to him calmly and point your wooden sword at his chest as the ultimate checkmate. The trio uproar in victory as they run up to you both, giving you both praise at how awesome you both were. The illusion was broken but as long as they were all having a great time, that was enough for you.
As you helped Balor off the ground and dusting off any grass and leaves stuck to him, the Dragonguards sentenced the Dark Knight to community service around the town so he couldn’t run and leave town to rendezvous with the Demon Lord. Balor graciously accepts his ‘punishment’ having the kids fill the air with their glee.
Before you knew it, Nora and Josephine came to pick up the children, telling them that it’s time to take a walk towards the Eastern Ruins and to say farewell. Both you and Balor wave your goodbyes to the families, leaving you both alone finally. You face Balor and your eyes both meet causing you both to exchange smiles.
“You make a good Dark Knight Balor, I didn’t know you had some experience with a sword until now.”
“I’m just full of surprises waiting to be discovered.” He winked at you.
Finally your shyness gets the better of you, making you turn your head away from his gaze. You exhale a chuckle at his phasing,”I’m sorry if this was just sprung on you, I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother.”
“Nah, I pretty much saw everything. I didn’t want to interrupt at first, but I’m glad I did. Getting to fight against the Hero Knight was an experience no one can buy.”
You nudge Balor slightly as his honeyed words, then you remember about this morning.
“So you’re late with picking up the shipment, was everything okay this morning?”
“Yeah, I got caught up with an early business meet up and I was running late. Say, want to help me bring your shipment back to my wagon and then we can grab something to eat at the Sleeping Dragon Inn? My treat?”
You hummed in agreement, setting towards your shipment box to help Balor. You both work efficiently as the comfortable silence sets in. After finishing up, you both walk side by side, your shoulders brushing against each other as you make your way to the inn.
“You know, Josephine and Nora have a beautiful family. It almost makes me want to drop everything and settle down here in Mistria, don’t you think?”
This time you're for sure Balor saw the shock and blush cross your face. Thinking about what a family would be like with Balor came flowing into your mind. If having a family is what anything was like today was, you would also have to agree with Balor on that.
Pairing: March/Ari
Word Count: 157,669
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 27/27
Summary: Her laughter rang out in the town square, her bright pleasantries winning over everyone she spoke to. Why couldn’t anyone see through it? She basked in the praise, practically glowing as the townsfolk fawned over her. March ground his teeth every time someone treated her like a hero for picking some wild berries off a damn bush.
Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, Eventual Smut, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, Switch! March, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, (somehow simultaneously), Written during Early Release, Shooting Star Event Spoilers, Minor Original Character(s), Not Beta'd, straight up rawdogging march's backstory, npc studios give us the full game, i need the lore, march thinks ari is a little shit, ari thinks march is a little shit, (both are wrong), olric is ace and no i will not accept any further discussion on this
