#like im not saying he came from a family teeming with money but he was middle-class like it isnt some rags to riches story

[ad1thi]

.

[daedriclorde]

Im so impressed with what you wrote for the ask i sent before, that I've come back for seconds 😅😂 take your time with this, no need to rush to write it. 8,11,20,30 sincerely, a new fangirl 😂

I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG

I split this into two different fics. The first is for Assassination and Meeting; the second is for Willpower and Temple. If you don’t know, Aerisif and Kjolti are the same person, just different names for different stages of my Dragonborn’s life!

Assassination; Meeting

The Bannered Mare had few patrons remaining at this hour. The large fire in the center of the hall burned perpetually, though only Rexus and a handful of others were gathered around it. Kjolti entered silently and unseen. The unrest that the appearance of a Dark Brotherhood assassin in Whiterun would cause could jeopardize her meeting. And what a meeting it shall be.

Moving within the rich shadows that flickered around the tavern, Kjolti slid next to Rexus, and almost imperceptibly, coughed. Rexus nearly jumped out of his skin and turned to look at the assassin, who gaped at her.

“Well I’ll be damned. We heard you were dead! Motierre’s in the back room, if you’ve got business.” Kjolti said nothing, but nodded and returned to the shadows. She slunk across the tavern to the room she had been in once before. The doors were easy enough to open and close in equal silence. Motierre sat in the dark, only a small candle by the bed illuminating the room. He had not even noticed Kjolti enter, such was her skill at stealth. She stood, choosing to be seen.

“Ah! You’re back!” Motierre exclaimed with equal parts joy and terror.

“Titus Mede II lies dead.” Kjolti’s voice was solemn and low.

“I know! I know! I received the news not moments ago! Ha HA! This is glorious! My friend, you may not realize it, but you have served the Empire, indeed, all of Tamriel, in ways you cannot possibly imagine.” Greed had replaced terror in Motierre’s visage. Kjolti did not like that.

“Ah, but you care little for politics, am I right? You want money! And money you shall have!” Motierre’s face was twisted with cruelty. “Your payment waits for you at a dead drop. It is inside an urn, in the very chamber where we first met, in Volunruud. Now please, go. Collect your money, and let us never look upon one another again. Our business, thank the gods, is concluded.” There was clear disgust in his tone. 

How amusing, thought Kjolti. How much he despises me, my brethren, and yet, he is indebted to us. 

“Your payment awaits. And don’t worry, I’m not stupid enough to betray you.”

Kjolti spoke up once more, her voice soft and dark. “Actually, Motierre, there is one more thing.”

He appeared disgruntled. “And what might that be?”

“Just a favor…for an honorable man.” Hidden beneath her cowl, Kjolti grinned a sinister smile. 

“You assassins and your riddles. It really does get very annoying, you know. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Kjolti politely inclined her head, already feeling the Blade of Woe itch for blood. She turned to the door and opened it, but slunk into the shadows and closed the doors again without leaving the room, but giving the impression she had. The assassin was too well suited for the shadows, too masterful a killer to be seen in the dim light of the small room. Motierre hummed happily to himself, no doubt already envisioning himself upon the Ruby Throne. 

What a fool.

Kjolti slipped unseen to Motierre’s flank. She withdrew the Blade of Woe from its sheath, poised it over Motierre’s neck, and whispered to him.

“Hail. Sithis.”

She relished the look of fear in his eyes as she opened his neck. 

Willpower; Temple; 

They had been completely blindsided by the attack. The road was dark, the moon providing little light. Foolishly, they had ignored the rumors. They knew it had been unwise to travel at night, but they had their wisdom stripped from them, drunk on mead and victory.

The heist had been a complete success; the mark had been absent from their home that evening. Brynjolf, always better with the lockpicks than Aerisif, had unlocked the door for them in a heartbeat. Aerisif had sunk into the shadows, as no one could the way she did, and slipped through the house without a sound.

The trunk did not disappoint. It was teeming with gold and precious gems, family heirlooms and rare books. It was an excellent haul.

And so they celebrated. They didn’t dare so much as look at each other until they were outside the city walls, but once they had left range of the guards, they exploded with giddy pride. 

But their celebrations were quickly dampened. A figure sprung on them from the darkness, eyes glowing red. Sinister necrotic magic emanated from their hands. The vampire rumors were indeed true.

Brynjolf unsheathed the sword he usually carried in a flash, and Aerisif’s daggers were drawn with equal speed. The vampire’s dark magic struck them both, draining them of their life force. Brynjolf charged the monster, and Aerisif’s daggers whirled. 

By bad luck, Aerisif had been closer to the vampire when it emerged from the trees. It bore down on her first, with magic and fang. It seemed not to notice the gashes Aerisif opened in its’ chest, but continued to lunge forward with disturbing speed. Aerisif lashed out with steel in her hands and her eyes, but her energy was draining. The vampire was upon her. 

Brynjolf watched with horror as it bit of her neck, its malevolent fangs breaking into her skin. He used this distraction to plunge his blade through the vampire’s chest, and watched with satisfaction as the monster crumbled. Aerisif slumped.

“Woah, woah, stay with me, lass,” he said as he grabbed her by the shoulders.

“That was…that was dumb of us,” Aerisif whispered. Her face was pale. “Do you have a cure disease potion? I think I sold my last one to Tonilia.”

“Aye, I’ve got one,” Brynjolf helped Aerisif to the ground so he could rummage through his pack. He grabbed the small glass vial and handed it to Aerisif.

She held up the bottle, squinting in the dim light. “This is just a minor healing potion, Brynjolf.”

He frowned. “No, it should be a cure disease potion. That’s what the man I stole it from was saying, at least.”

She shook her head. “It’s the wrong shade of red. Cure disease potions are darker, from the charred skeever hide.”

“Blast it,” Brynjolf cursed. He spat on the body of the vampire. “We have to get you to a temple, then.”

Aerisif was poorly hiding her fear. “But…we’re in the middle of nowhere, Brynjolf. It will be days until we get back to Riften. We don’t have…I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Then we’re going to have to be quick about it. Can you walk?”

Aerisif nodded faintly. Brynjolf extended a hand, which Aerisif took. She was grateful for the lack of moonlight, as it hid the flush that came to her cheeks from his touch.

The pair of thieves took off, much more cautiously this time. They moved at a slower pace, but hardly stopped. Long rests were out of the question; short naps were the better choice. 

The first day since her bite passed, and they hadn’t covered nearly enough ground. Mid afternoon on the second day, they came across a lone farm. The farmer was nowhere in sight. Aerisif was looking paler and frailer, though she would not admit it. 

“Stay here,” Brynjolf ordered.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Just stay here.”

“Answer me, or I’ll follow.”

“Gods, Aerisif. I’m going to steal a horse for us to ride. We have to keep moving, and we aren’t going to make it on foot.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, lass. Normally I’d be grateful for your help, but, and no offense, right now your footfalls are as loud as a troll’s. Stay here.”

Aerisif opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it, to Brynjolf’s surprise. He had expected to have to go round and round with her.

“Fine. But don’t get caught.”

Brynjolf laughed as he walked away. “Get caught,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Like I would get caught.”

“Bastard is gonna get us both killed,” muttered Aerisif as Brynjolf walked away. But internally, against her better judgement, her heart fluttered.

With shocking ease, Brynjolf returned a few moments later with a gray mare who eyed them both with suspicion. She was munching on an apple, which Aerisif assumed Brynjolf stole to appease the mare.

“Up you go,” Brynjolf said as he lifted Aerisif into the saddle.

“What the—I can do it myself!” Aerisif argued weakly.

“No, you can’t. Let’s go.” He mounted the horse behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He was grateful she couldn’t see his cheeks turn a light rosy color. 

“What, no lewd comments? No off-color quips?”

Brynjolf grinned. “Why, if that was what you were waiting for, lass, you should have said so.” He chuckled and leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “Don’t worry lass, that’s just my sword hilt pressing into the small of your back.”

Aerisif laughed. “That’s the Brynjolf I know.” The laughter seemed to exhaust her. 

Brynjolf frowned. “Hold on tight. We’ve got to go.”

Now on horseback, the two made considerably better time. They rode nonstop through the rest of the day and night. The third day dawned, and still they were far from Riften. 

Aerisif’s condition was worsening. She wouldn’t admit to it, not even with her dying breath, which Brynjolf feared he would witness. As the sun grew hotter on the third day, Aerisif was squinting and covering her eyes. Hours later, she was leaning forward in the saddle, draped across the mare’s neck. 

“Stay with me, lass.” Brynjolf held the reins in one hand and wrapped the other around Aerisif’s waist. He was worried she would fall out of the saddle. 

Dusk fell, and Brynjolf was worried. Aerisif was barely awake, often hallucinating. 

“Maybe Mercer will be happy to have a vampire in the Guild,” she muttered sleepily. “I’ll be that much stronger at night.”

“I highly doubt that lass. Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the temple.”

Night fell. Aerisif was catatonic. Both were sore and tired from nearly a day and a half in the saddle. Brynjolf continued to push the mare, despite her indignation. Aerisif grew cold in Brynjolf’s arms. He had heard that those inflicted with the bite of a vampire died before undergoing their transformation. He urged the horse onward.

Finally, Riften came into sight. Brynjolf breathed a tense sigh of relief, but it was fragile. Without knowing exactly when she had been bitten, it was hard to tell how much time was left. The crescent moon was rising in the sky. Brynjolf dug his heels into the mare once more. The horse was foaming at the mouth from the exertion. 

Arriving at the gates, Brynjolf leaped off and gently pulled Aerisif from the saddle. She slumped into his arms, unresponsive. Swiftly, he scooped her up into his arms, relishing the feeling.

“Stay with me, lass. Don’t fade away. You’re too strong.”

Brynjolf ordered the guards to open the gates with such command they didn’t even try to shake him down. He moved as fast as he could, trying not to jostle Aerisif. The streets of Riften were empty at this hour. He knew he was almost out of time.

“Maramal!” He roared at the temple doors. “Dinya! Open up!” Not daring to release Aerisif from his arms, he used his foot to kick the door. “Let us in!”

Moments later, a sleepy eyed Dinya opened the door. “What do you want, Brynjolf? This better not be a ruse.” Suspicion filled her sleepy eyes.

“She’s been bitten by a vampire. Nearly three days past. Please, you have to help her.”

“Come in, come in,” the priestess ushered him inside. “Set her here,” Dinya instructed.

Brynjolf gently lay her down before the shrine. Aerisif’s eyes had started to gently glow. Dinya knelt before her, praying to Mara. Brynjolf heard her speak but did not listen to the words. His focus was on Aerisif. Dinya placed her hands on Aerisif brow, and prayed more. Brynjolf held his breath.

Divine magic swirled around Aerisif. The color returned to her skin, and the ominous glow vanished from her eyes. She blinked and sat up, confused.

“We made it?” she asked Brynjolf.

He grinned. “You’ve got too much willpower to fade away. You’re far too stubborn. You’re cured, lass.” He heaved a sigh of relief, ignoring the sparks shooting off in his chest. 

[scintillating-galaxias]

give ‘em hell, darling

Chapter Two—Step 1

Sandalphon appears to read Aziraphale his charges and to collect him from Earth.

(read it here on ao3!)

“An’, get this angel.”

“What?”

“She told ‘im, ‘nothin’ wrong with the economy, just get your arse up and find a job!’” Crowley hooted loudly, sloshing a considerable amount of wine down the fist gripping the stem of the glass. Aziraphale, glassy-eyed, miracled it back into the cup. “An’ she hasn’t worked in years! ”

Aziraphale shook his head, tutting. “What did you do?”

“Nicked her credit card and left it for the bum.”

“Crowley…! Alright, I would have given him money anyway. Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor, or something like that.”

“See, you get it.”

A very sharp rapping on the door rudely interrupted Crowley’s drunken rendition of a fool he had made out of a woman on the street criticizing a homeless man.

“Someone’s here,” said Crowley after a minute.

“Obviously,” said Aziraphale. “Doors don’t knock themselves.”

“No, I bloody well know that!” hissed Crowley, drunkenness slurring his vigilance. “Someone’s here! Aren’t you closed right now?” He stiffened abruptly, nostrils flaring slightly. “I can feel it—someone holy. Smells like bleach.”

Oh, dear. Murmuring some very mild curses, Aziraphale quickly sent the alcohol in his system back into the bottles and then told the bottles to return to the dusty cabinets from which they came. He straightened his bow-tie and after he swallowed dryly, called, “One moment, please!”

“What the Heaven do they want? I thought you said they’d leave us alone!” hissed Crowley. He had sobered himself up as well and was agitatedly pacing back and forth, shooting poisonous looks at the closed door, which shuddered fearfully in its doorframe.

“I’m not sure,” Aziraphale said. 

“We’ve wasted enough time already,” said a sharp voice, laced with—glee? That couldn’t be good. Aziraphale pushed down his growing concern and made for the door. “Open up. I know you’re not—ah.”

“Good day, Sandalphon,” Aziraphale greeted tersely. “What business brings you to Earth?”

“You,” Sandalphon answered with a grin that was too wide to be natural. His gold-teeth, hardly having to be changed for his human appearance, glinted. He produced a stack of papers and brandished them. “You’re being recalled to Heaven.”

The shot of dread that fired through Aziraphale’s body made him feel weak-kneed. He resisted stumbling by sheer force of will and managed to coolly ask, “Why?”

Sandalphon stepped inside the room without invitation. He glanced derisively about, empty eyes moving derisively from Aziraphale’s dusty shelf of not-for-sale (read: favorite) books, to the antique rug, and finally, to Crowley, who curled his lip and let his forked tongue flicked menacingly. “Your performance lately has been lacking,” Sandalphon said, refocusing his stony stare on Aziraphale. “Heaven has decided you’re no longer the best suited for this job.”

Crowley snorted ungracefully while Aziraphale blinked disbelievingly.

“You’re kidding,” said Crowley. “Was there another angel who’s secretly been on Earth this whole time?”

“Am I—Am I being fired?” Aziraphale asked incredulously.

Sandalphon’s plastic grin stretched wider, somehow. “No. You’re being recalled. You should be fired, but this is the next most appropriate action to take.”

“That’s not—Never mind.” Aziraphale discreetly wiped his hands on the backside of his coat. “What about my, erm, performance has been failing?”

Sandalphon gestured to Crowley. “Obviously,” he said shortly, “ that has not been permanently banished to the deepest pits of Hell.”

Aziraphale bristled as Crowley loudly said, “I am right here. ”

“And,” Sandalphon continued, unperturbed, “your reports have been disappointingly lackluster. You’ve reported nearly the exact same interactions with humanity from this particular part of the world for the last year, and the year prior to that, and the year prior to that. And the two hundred before that.” He sighed in the morose manner you’d expect from a greedy boss denying you a raise. “Our expectations for you have simply not been met.”

Azirphale gritted his teeth and forced out, “May I see exactly what expectations you are referring to?”

To his surprise, Sandalphon actually handed over the papers. Aziraphale took them, staring suspiciously at first at Sandalphon, then the papers. Crowley’s lip curled as Sandalphon pointed out a paragraph on the first page.

“You’ll see here that the terms to your assignment are laid out quite clearly,” he said. Lines began to highlight themselves in golden light, obviously larger points of discussion. Aziraphale scowled. He filed his own taxes to the point of investigation by the British government, for Heaven’s sake, he knew how to read the small-print. The light only served to amplify the bleak blackness of the curling Enochian. “To begin, you were given the task of protecting the humans of the Garden of Eden from Evil. This included the terrible temptation of Eve.” Sandalphon shot Crowley a nasty look. He shrugged unapologetically. “You were charged with a Holy Blade of Flame by the Almighty to assist you in this task. However, you lost it mere week later, and it ended up in the hands of the one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, War.”

“It—That was to help the humans! It was in the name of good!” Aziraphale did not like where this was going. “It was cold. I could not send them back into the Garden after their ejection by the Almighty—but I had to do something.”

“Which brings me to my next point…”

Crowley rolled his eyes. Aziraphale could only grit his teeth and listen as Sandalphon went down a list of his apparent misdemeanors with excruciating detail and slowness. Being unable to keep peace in a small village teeming with anger over a corrupt political situation in 2200 BC, allowing said political situation to become corrupt, warning families of a blight in 13 AD, healing people who Heaven wanted dead in 403 AD, miracling people to full recovery during the Bubonic Plague, and, most recently—

“You’ve been observed to be indulging greatly in the sin of gluttony—”

“Now, just one minute,” Aziraphale interrupted, beginning to feel panicked. 

Sandalphon’s smile turned sour. “Angels can’t sin. This goes without saying. However, you’ve clearly proven yourself to be something else ever since that little stunt with the Hellfire. We don’t know what you are. Obviously not Fallen, but you’re not Unfallen, either. Gluttony is a sin no matter what you are. It’s only appropriate we treat it as such.”

Aziraphale froze. Beside him, Crowley had also gone still. Crowley had recounted exactly what had happened to him while he was in Heaven, including Uriel’s disgusted comment of, “What is he?” Evidently, it had not gone unnoticed. Admittedly, it was a rather logical question to ask. But Aziraphale couldn’t answer, “I don’t know either,” and he couldn’t explain what he and Crowley had done to escape extinction. That would only tell Heaven they could try again, and get the results they wanted this time. He swallowed and said nothing at all.

“So,” drawled Sandalphon, “the sin of gluttony. Gabriel noticed you partaking in some Earthly food while he was here. You explained it was for your human disguise. However, you’ve been recorded sullying your heavenly body with gross matter for centuries now. You don’t need to eat. Therefore, anything you consume can be considered excessive and unnecessarily.”

“That’s bollocks,” Crowley cut in. Both angels turned to him, Sandalphon in annoyance, Aziraphale in surprise.

“What?” said Sandalphon.

“That’s wrong,” Crowley said impatiently. “I’m the demon here, I should know what sin is. Gluttony’s supposed to be, y’know, an excess of food or wealth or whatever withheld from the needy. Sure, he eats a lot for an angel”—Crowley pulled his face into a ‘well, what can I say?’ frown—“ans he eats every day like most humans do. But he’s never sat around and ate big ol’ honeyed hams and wine all day while telling the poor people to piss off. I would know; I’ve been, erm, adversary-ing him for six thousand years.”

Thank you, cried Aziraphale internally, but Sandalphon was not impressed.

“Then what of these books?” he said at once. “Surely you don’t think we haven’t noticed the way he hoards these things. They are a symbol of status he refuses to part with, even for the innocent human pursuit of knowledge.”

“That’s different! Humans don’t need books the same way they need food.”

“Fine,” Sandalphon said with great reluctance. “The food is excluded. Then do tell me, demon; what is the reasoning for his reluctancy?” 

Sandalphon turned to Aziraphale, who had gone quite pale.

“Their contents would be wasted on them,” he said. “It would be a tragedy, really.” He wanted to say collectors only bought them for the name, but he knew that wasn’t true; most collectors were just like him, in reality. The only difference is that Aziraphale has been there, living the events that inspired the legendary books of their times. There was no experience like it. Any modern day collectors were simply grasping for a way to experience a past they never could live. And for as long as a story is passed around humanity, it is eventually lost in the mess. As long as they were with Aziraphale, they were safe.

Sandalphon raised an eyebrow. His bald head was shining in the lamplight. “You wouldn’t even spare that moment of joy for a human? They don’t have forever to indulge themselves.” Sandalphon took Aziraphale’s guilty press of his lips as a victory. His eyes shone triumphantly. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Principality?”

Aziraphale blinked once and let all pretenses of politeness slide off of his face. “Nothing you would sincerely listen to.”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley whirled on him, gripping Aziraphale’s forearm in one hand and gesturing furiously with the other. “Wha’—You can’t just go with him!” he snapped. “There’s—You haven’t hardly got to make a case for yourself!”

Aziraphale forced a weak smile for Crowley. He patted his bony hand gently. “It’s looking like I’m having little choice in the matter, my dear.”

“Hell, even Hell at least has a jury!”

“Yes, well… this is Heaven after all.” Aziraphale leveled an icy glare at Sandalphon who shifted uncomfortably. “They can do no wrong. Can they.”

“No,” Sandalphon said airily, sounding severely less confident. His mouth opened to say something else, only it opened, and then nothing at all came out. In fact, it stayed perfectly still, as did the rest of the room; the dust motes froze mid-flight, the swaying of Sandalphon’s trench-coat was caught in a dramatic turn—

“Crowley?”

“Aziraphale, they can’t take you again!” Crowley had a snarl on his face as he angrily waved his hands in the air. “They brought a demon last time for the Hellfire, they’ll bring another to—to torture you, or something! You won’t last a second! Or they’ll find you over to Hell itself—!” 

“I’m tougher than you think,” Aziraphale assured him gently.

Crowley’s face crumpled. “I want to believe you, angel, I do. But this is Heaven’s punishments we’re talking about.”

Aziraphale’s heart ached at the fear in Crowley’s voice. He took Crowley’s cold hand and folded it tightly in his own two hands, holding it against his chest. “I understand your concern, my dear. But I’ll be alright. They’re operating out of fear, at the moment, I’m sure.”

Crowley furiously shook his head and wrapped his other hand around Aziraphale’s, gripping it as though he would vanish right then and there. Which, Aziraphale thought grimly, he very well might be. “It doesn’t matter what they’re operating out of! They want to get rid of you—”

“That may be so. But I think that Heaven is being a tad ambitious,” Aziraphale said primly. 

Crowley stared at him. Then he took off his sunglasses to really drive in the disbelief shining in his—entirely yellow, Aziraphale noted guiltily—eyes. “Aziraphale, what are you saying?”

“There is no such thing as luck,” he said delicately. It was not a coincidence I found a scrap of prophecy that happened to be exactly what we needed to live another day.”

Crowley’s pupils narrowed to thin lines. “I, you, wh—gh? Can you even hear yourself right now? You think—? Come on, after all of this, you really think She— ?”

The room had slowly begun to move again. Crowley’s miracle was wearing off. 

“How can you be so sure?” he finally asked.

“Crowley, listen to me,” Aziraphale said lowly. “I honestly cannot say I know what they will do. Your guesses are as good as mine. But I know Heaven, and I am not stupid. They don’t believe the failure of the Great Plan was a part of the Ineffable Plan. They’re searching for someone to blame, and, well, I’m a prime candidate.”

“Then they should take me too!” Crowley said indignantly. “I’d rather be trapped in Heaven with you than be on an Earth without you.” Aziraphale’s cheeks grew faintly warm at the intensity and genuinity of that statement, but he had to focus right now. He shoved the tidal wave of adoration towards Crowley as hard as he could and hoped he would feel it.

The sway of Sandalphon’s coat has reached its apex and was now falling the other way.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said honestly. “Heaven does not care for Earth as much as they do about the War. But they do care about what will happen to Earth if Hell is given free-range. They won’t leave you alone. If—when—they take me, they’ll send another angel in my place.”

Crowley made a disgusted sound. 

“Heaven does not appreciate the wonderful stories and intricacies of this place; I believe it is why they were so eager for the end of the world. And if they do send another in my place, it is under the assumption they can use any stuffy old angel to replace me. That anyone can appreciate humanity as I do. Crowley— you need to prove them wrong. ”

Crowley was always a particularly cunning demon. His distressed face went through a complicated series of emotions before ending on a positively, if slightly wobbly, serpentine grin. “And how should I do that, angel?” he purred.

The completely random thought of kissing Crowley dramatically before the miracle ended flirted intensely with Aziraphale. Startled, Aziraphale found himself leaning in to growl, “Give them hell, darling,” and then the miracle’s lifespan was up.

Sandalphon looked incredibly displeased.

“You’re only delaying the inevitable,” he said snidely.

“I delayed the ineffable,” Aziraphale corrected. Sandalphon narrowed his eyes. “Well? Go on, then. List my charges.”

Sandalphon tapped his foot on the ground and the pages went flying back into his outstretched fingers. “It is with these words that I charge thee, Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the First Order of the Lowest Hierarchy, Guardian of the Eastern Gate…”

Aziraphale stopped paying attention as the list of his crimes ( crimes, he thought with a mental eyeroll, this was ridiculous) was read. He nudged Crowley, and hoped the brief contact was enough to convey, I’ll be okay, we’ll be okay, I promise I’ll come back. I won’t leave you behind.

“I still hate this,” murmured Crowley, low enough to go unnoticed by Sandalphon.

Aziraphale gnawed his cheek—a nervous habit gained after reading the phrase from a book and trying to figure out what it meant. “It is not ideal,” he said back just as quietly. He smiled tightly when Sandalphon glanced at him. “But I believe it won’t be long,” he continued. “I’ll be back before you know it. Two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” 

“...two thousand, seven hundred, and thirty-three accounts of gluttony…”

“Yeesh. You’d get a commendation from Hell for that one.”

“Hush, you.”

Finally, after what felt like a day's worth of monotonous droning, Sandalphon lowered the papers. “Given this evidence, Heaven no longer sees you fit to be the angelic representative of Earth. You will be recalled to Heaven until given further notice, and during this time, Heaven will proceed with any necessary actions. Do you have any questions?”

Aziraphale made a show of looking cowed. “May I say goodbye?”

“To who? The demon?”

“Humans question things when a regularity in their life vanishes without imaginable reason.”

Sandalphon nodded after a very obvious hesitation. “You have one hour.”

And he vanished in a great crackle of lightning. Aziraphale slouched, unaware of how tightly he’d been holding himself up. Crowley squeezed his tense shoulder.

“I should get going,” said Aziraphale. “Clock’s ticking. Will you mind the bookshop for me while I’m gone?”

“‘Course.”

“If anyone asks, I’m on a business trip.” Crowley nodded, a pinched expression crossing his face. “What is it, Crowley?”

He didn’t answer for a pronounced moment. “Just—Don’t do anything stupid, angel.”

“I’ll miss you too, my dear.”

An hour later, after he had exhausted himself teleporting around London hastily explaining his absence to the restaurants he frequented, his manicurist, the bakeries, making phone calls, and leaving voicemails for would-be buyers of his books, Aziraphale was gone.

[shedancesinstarlight]

Akatuski no Yona gift exchange 2017

hey!  @jami1307lah i’m your secret santa! 

you asked for soem au fluff so heres a fic i wrote for you! i hope you like it!!!

THE PERFECT GIFT  

Hak hated Christmas. Okay so he didn’t hate it, but it didn’t mean he loves it either. Its not that he didn’t enjoy the general merriment that took place in this time of year, but how excited people became at the prospect of presents. What he really hated wasn’t Christmas itself, but the shopping. If the busy shops weren’t enough of a turn off the general stress that came with finding the right gift. Generally this wouldn’t be a problem he either wouldn’t bother or just give whoever he needed to give a present to a gift card and a pat on the shoulder. But this was different, don’t ask him how it just was. Usually he didn’t feel much pressure when it came to buying a gift for Yona. They had known each other since they were children and had basically grown up beside each other. But for some ungodly reason this last year things had begun to change between them. where before he had enjoyed the annoyance of the small girl’s pout as he called her an airhead now all he could think as he stared down at her was how soft her lips looked. Before he could tousle her hair and only receive her annoyed complaints now he was afraid to touch her auburn locks out of fear he wouldn’t be able to let go, why had he never noticed how soft it was before!

To say things had become weird on his end was an understatement.

A few hours ago, he had been sat in algebra bored out of his mind waiting for the bell to signal the end of the teachers drowning that even they seemed to have grown tired of a this point in the year. At the ring of the bell he began collecting up his things listing to the excited buzz of the other students around him, their girlish squeals of excitement as they theorise what presents they may be receiving. He was all but ready to leave when an all too familiar voice entered the conversation.

“I already got the best present”, Yona beamed “Soo-won gave it too me yesterday.” The other girls begin cooing admiration and jealousy as they crowd in closer to see the gift she removes from her bag. Hak finds himself oddly drawn to the spectacle curious and discomforted for a reason he can’t quite understand until he steps towards the group and sees a large sparkling hair pin. To say it was a perfect gift was an understatement, the rose shape and colour perfectly complimented Yona’s cascading red hair whilst the golden edging and gemstones allowed it to sparkle and draw attention to its owner, it obviously couldn’t have been cheap but was chosen with such certainty they must have been a lot of thought put in to it.

And just like that Hak found himself suddenly found himself caring about Christmas presents. He was completely lost, why did he care what Soo-won got Yona? They had always been close growing up and it had never made a difference before, so why did it make his insides roll a thunderous storm now? He must have had a strange expression on his face as he stared down at the offending gift as Yona’s friend Lili placed her hand on his elbow suddenly jolting his attention towards the tall girl.

“pretty isn’t it?” she states concerned eyes roaming his face. He isn’t sure what she’s looking for, glancing back towards Yona he watches as she gently places the gift back in to her bag, causing relief to rush through him the moment its removed from his sight.

“you know” Lili says a mischievous lit taking over her voice and expression “she really likes that pin, but I’m sure someone who knows her as well as you do could find her something even better.”

 Which is how Hak somehow found himself in his current predicament a few days till Christmas in a way too busy shopping centre looking for the perfect gift. To make matters worse he had probably chosen the worst group of people in the world to go shopping with. When Yoon had originally suggested they go shopping after class ended that day Hak had thought he had found the perfect opportunity to find a gift. Yoon was the best when it came to knowing what people wanted and was great with money too! What he had forgotten to take in to account were his other… friends.

As he walked through the crowds towards the familiar light brown tuft of hair, only to stop short at the crowds clear to reveal the red headed girl beside him. Yona. What is she doing here???

“Hak you came!” she exclaims in greeting spotting him and drawing him closer in to their small group. When he had agreed to come he didn’t realise they would all be there, how was he supposed to get away to find Yona a gift in such a big group? Someone would definitely notice and that would reveal what ever this was? What was this anyways? Sure, Yona was his friend… his friend that he cared about a lot… and we protective of… and would get jealous of other people. What even was this anymore?

“right!” Yoon called getting the small groups attention “since we’re all here now and its slightly busier than expected, how about we split in to pairs”

“don’t worry shin-ah as your big brother I will make sure you don’t get lost amongst all these people” Kija proudly announced placing a well-meaning hand on his shoulder a pleased smile spreading across his face.

“this big brother thing has got to stop they’re basically the same age” Hak mutters to himself.

“great that Means we have one pair,” Yoon’s eyes sine with mischief glancing over Hak (that was weird) before landing on Yona “how about Yona and Hak”.

“NO anyone but her” he accidentally releases watching as everyone jumps back in shock. “what’s that supposed to mean!” Yona shoots back before he can explain himself hurt showing on her face, you know what,” she says hurt and anger shining through her eyes “I didn’t want to be your partner anyway me and Lili will go!” she grabs hold of the dark-haired girls arm and storms off in to the crowd

“real smooth Hak” Jae-ha adds as they watch the girls diaper in to the teeming crowds “if you want I can give you proper lessons on how to talk to girls, might help them to like you more”

“I didn’t mean for that to come out how it sounded okay!” he protests

“still,” Yoon adds “you should probably apologise, that was pretty rude.” The others nod in agreement causing further embarrassment to burst inside the dark-haired man.

“yeah I know… I’ve just got to go… now… you know…presents” he adds voice gruff with embarrassment as he tries to take his leave of the group. This trip was already turning in to a mess but so long as he can get something while he’s here it wouldn’t be a total failure at least, in one shop and out again.

Or at least that’s what he had thought. Two hours In and he hadn’t bought so much as a nut. Why was gift shopping so hard? He had tried asking for help but that was going as well as could be expected when he didn’t even know where to start, “it needs to be something big, okay not big… but you know good! Like something that shows I care? you know something girls will like?” he attempts to instruct the uncertain sales assistant.

“im sorry sir, can you be more specific to what you might like?” the small girl clearly overwhelmed and trying to appease his strange request.

“don’t worry young miss we’ll take this from here” Jae-ha appears behind Hak leaning his elbow on though the shorter man’s shoulder and winking at the young lady as she leaves them a light blush dusting her cheeks.

“Relax Hak, you’ve never been that fussed about finding gifts before so why the importance now?” Jae-ha asks a curious and knowing smile seeming to overtake his smile “unless there is someone in particular you had in mind.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” he states gruffly Shoving jae-has arm away. “ I just need to find the right thing this time okay”

“the right thing eh” the taller man hmmms knowingly “some would say its harder to look for then to know, try thinking about the other person,” he pauses and looks meaningfully towards him “really thinking and you might realise what it is you need”

Beginning to turn to leave and continue on his way he quickly pauses “ oh and if you were thinking of apologising to Yona you’ll have to wait till later, Lili took her home, someone stuck some gum in her hair and she’s become quite upset.”

A slight anger burns inside him that someone would do that to her, Yona’s hair had always been precious to her and now because of someone’s carelessness it was going to have to be cut. He suddenly felt the need to find a better gift all the more, she need someone to cheer her up and it would be him.

Finally being kicked out as the doors to the shops all close for the night Hak is at a complete loss, he still hasn’t gotten Yona anything and Jae-ha’s words had only made him more confused, really think? Think about what? He was thinking about her eyes and how they sparkle and her grin and how it always caches his attention, and her hair… oh her hair before now it had always been so eye catching the long bright red locks flowing free drawing attention her way from a young age.  Such an iconic and distinguishable red.  The very same red sparkling blinding him as he passes by the window. Turning his head, he looks inside the glass eyes locking on to the very thing he needed. It’s perfect.

 Walking the familiar route to his childhood friends home the dark haired man becomes he stress down at the small wrapped gift. He hopes its enough. Pausing on the pavement outside the large family home he realises all too late the time. He’s spent so long shopping and wrapping he had forgotten that most people might be asleep at this time. Its too late to knock on her door, besides that might wake up her father instead and that’s not what he was here for. He supposed he could just give it to her tomorrow but then a feeling of guilt flashes through him at the memory of her hurt expression. Pulling out his phone he rings the first number and after a few beeps he’s greeted with a tired muffled response.

“hello” the sound of moving bedsheets as she rolls around adjusting to her newly awakened state “Hak what is it?”

“I’m sorry I upset you earlier.” He rushes out.

“oh… its okay I know you didn’t mean it, is that the only reason you called at this time?” she asks confused.

“look out your window” he instructs spotting her face peer out at his words, “come outside sleeping beauty”

“Hak I really don’t want to, I look like a mess.” She sadly utters

“can’t be any worse than when we were 8 and you tried to chase me and take my ice cream and ended up falling in the mud instead!”

“hey!” she starts to giggle at the memory “ I think I remember that being my ice cream first!”

“maybe, why don’t you come down and see if we can figure this out then? See who’s lying?”

There’s a slight pause on the other end of the line as the small girl is putting thought in to her response “…. Okay, but only if you promise not to laugh”

“how bad could it really be?” he asks which is met with a displeased grumble “okay I promise”

A few moments later he watches as the front door of his friend’s home opens up to reveal the girl he had known for so many years but instead of the long cascading red curls he had grown to associate her with instead his eyes landed opon her face, lit up with the bright short hair framing it like a glowing halo and drawing attention to her deep shining blue eyes. Eyes with sad red rings from where she had been rubbing away at tears. He’s frozen, what can he say? She looks so good yet is so unhappy.

“it looks awful doesn’t it?” she asks taking his silence for negativity.

“no! ...no, I love it… it looks great” it looks more than great she looked cute. Oh. And with that sudden admittance realisation dawned on him, the reason he had been so weird around her recently, why he cared so much and got jealous so easily. He liked Yona, more than just a childhood friend. He wanted to kiss her and tell her how beautiful she looked to him, how her hair doesn’t change that and she would still be beautiful even if she wore a potato sack because he adored how great she was on the inside and would never leave her side.  But he can’t not right now, it’s too soon, he’s only just realised himself what he’s feeling and he Can’t expect her to deal with that uncertainty on top of everything else.

Steping towards her he lays a hand softly on her head, “you know I was worried something really bad had happened like you’d dyed your hair blue” she gives him a small laugh in response “but I guess since its still here I don’t have to worry about your Christmas present not matching.”

“present?” she asks attention peaked, “it’s not another gift card, is it?” she asks frowning

“hey, I don’t always do those!” he says mock offence coating his words “here” he says showing her the small box wrapped in snowy paper watching as she takes it surprised and begins to unwrap the small gift.

Opening the small box they both peer down at the small pendent nestled inside. A small heart shaped stone topped with a golden edging and white gems appear wearing almost crown like as it lay there under her scrutiny, “ I love it the red haired girl exclaims “ here help me put it on!” she asks handing the delicate chain over to him to place around her neck. “how do I look?” she enquires once he’s done a bright smile out shining the gift itself.

Looking at her the small pendant hanging from her neck and the smile gracing her face Hak is filled with a deep sense of comfort and joy that he hadn’t felt since his uncertain feelings had begun so long ago. “beautiful.” He breathes wrapping his arms around a surprised Yona enveloping the small girl in his arms. Squeezing on to her tight he feels the soft movements of her body as she breathes and rests her arms across his back in return whispering as light merry Christmas as they both stand in the night their own secret world only illuminated by the soft glow of the street lights and the stars. Wrapped up in yonas arms Christmas didn’t seem so bad any more.

i hope you like it!

here what i used as a refrence for the necklace in case you were wondering what it looked like: