#i forgot their height difference so she's just standing on a stool for this one idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blues824 · 2 years

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Can I please request the Kamado squad with the female riddle s/o

🌹Her obsession with red and rules her being a doctor (last time I forgot that riddle wanted to become a doctor that his whole family came from the medical feeld )

❤️Imagen them being the only one get inosuke to follow a few rules.

🌹Her garden of demon repellant magic infuse roses (nezuko didn't get problem in the wisteria house when she was there so she gets the green light )

❤️The first time that zenitsu ran up to her and asked her to marry her before listening to her rules or telling his name got him collard (this if for everyone because eventually they stat to date one of the Kamado squad boys. )

🌹What's there reaction to her magic and unique spell of with your head.

❤️How would they react that she is on muzans radar because of her magic and is getting protection from the hashiras because she and her magic can make him more powerful and immune to the sun.

I don’t think I’ve ever written for the Kamado Squad if I’m being honest… unless I have and I forgot about it. This includes Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu, Inosuke, Kanao, and Genya.

Fun fact: I am the same height as Riddle and share the same birthday as him 🙂

Tanjiro Kamado

Your height isn’t a problem to him since he’s only around 5’5” (165 cm) and you’re around 5’2½” (160 cm). All he has to do is look down a little and there you are! He wouldn’t tease you about your height, though.

Whenever he has to travel, he will bring you back a trinket that is in the color red for your sake so that you may be reminded of him as he is gone. A few times, he brought back roses of different varieties as well so that you could press them in a book.

He supports you and your study of the medicinal arts and often goes to you instead of Shinobu for treatment. Of course, you reprimand him every time he gets hurt, but it’s to be expected in his job as a Demon Slayer.

He’s always happy to see the Queen’s Palace (that’s what you had named your mansion) and its demon-repellent roses. A while ago, you had conjured up a magical talisman for Nezuko so that she wouldn’t be harmed by the flowers. You would see your Tanjiro through your window and rush to the courtyard to greet him with a worried hug.

He’s always so amazed by the things you can do with your magic because he knows that it’s a very powerful thing. Many times, he has seen you behead Zenitsu for trying to get you to marry him. He finds it humorous rather than irritating.

When he gets word from Giyu that Muzan has you on his radar for your magic, he is angry. That demon has already taken his family away from him and turned his sister into a demon, and now he wants to take the only ‘normal’ thing from him? You actually had to calm him down from going straight to killing Kibutsuji.

Each night, as you both lay in bed together, he wakes up due to having nightmares of you either dying or being turned into a demon so that Muzan can learn magic from you. You were gradually becoming concerned and had to reassure him often that you weren’t going anywhere.

Nezuko Kamado

She is almost the same height as you, standing at 5’ even. You are finally taller than someone, and for some reason that makes you happy. But you don’t tease her for being smaller because you wouldn’t want someone to do that to you.

When the Kamado squad comes to the Queen’s Palace, you often open the box and open your arms for Nezuko to run into. It took a while, but after a few months you got used to her affectionate personality and even enjoyed it.

She’s often intrigued by your knowledge about medicine and would often hang around in your ‘lab’ or ‘office’ on one of the stools while listening to your voice. She can’t talk much because of the muzzle (she keeps it on so as to maintain self-control) and so she listens to you.

Nezuko understands why you enchanted the roses you grew, she just wishes that she could help you tend to them. At the end of the day, she’s just grateful that you created a talisman for her that counteracted the effect of the roses so that she could at least go inside the Palace.

She’s most definitely mesmerized by your magic because she hasn’t seen anything like it before. That’s if we’re talking about basic magic. When you use your unique magic on Inosuke, she finds it hilarious because you’re so angry as well.

Once, she overheard you, Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Tanjiro talking about how you were a target on Muzan’s hitlist. She ran in and clung to you, tearing up. The 4 of you were taken by surprise, but you hugged her just as tight, whispering to her about how you would try your hardest not to be taken and how you would protect yourself for her.

Now, she doesn’t ever want to leave your side. Forget Tanjiro, you are the one she wants to stay with 24/7. When the group needs to hit the road, she hisses and scratches at her own brother because she doesn’t want to be taken away from you. Even on the road, she sulks and cries.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

He’s just a bit taller than you, standing at 5’4¾” (164.5 cm). He wouldn’t make fun of you for it either because he’s not the type to do that to a lady, but loves that he’s taller than you because it makes him feel ‘manly’ in a way.

Would often try to court you or fluster you by presenting you with a couple of roses he found at the market every single time he visited the Queen’s Palace. The one time you finally accepted them was the day he swore he could’ve died happy right then and there. He wasn’t going to die alone!

When he gets hurt, he finds it adorable how you fuss over him. He knows deep down that you’re just worried about him. He’s never had someone do anything like this for him, so he just has a blissful expression on his face as you scold him for the nth time.

He’s glad that he finally gets a break from seeing wisteria flowers all over the place, but you took the enchanted rose thing to the next level. All over the grounds of your mansion, there were rose bushes that you had him help tend to.

When you demonstrate the sheer strength of your magic, he’s completely terrified. You’re more powerful than any Demon or Slayer. He’s experienced your collar the first few times he held out a rose bouquet to you as a greeting. He was secretly relieved when you finally accepted his love because he knew that he wasn’t going to be beheaded anymore.

One time, he overheard you discussing the matter of you being targeted by Muzan with one of the Hashira, and he was angry. I’m not talking about the Tanjiro-how-dare-you-be-traveling-with-a-cute-girl mad, I’m talking about the passing-out-and-bringing-out-his-demon-slayer mad.

He now gets paranoid at every noise he hears throughout the mansion. He’s more serious and jumpy than ever before. The only ways to get him to calm down is to either lay his head in your lap and run your fingers through his hair or to cuddle with him in bed.

Inosuke Hashibira

Would absolutely take advantage of being the taller one. He’s 5’4½” (164 cm), so he’s not that much taller, but to him every inch counts (that’s what she said). Would be the type to just pick you up and haul you over his shoulder and carry you around while you scream at him to put you down.

Doesn’t know anything about the human ways of courting and would often ask the others in his group about the feeling he gets in his chest whenever he’s around you. Tanjiro tries to stifle his laughter and Zenitsu is full on wheezing and yelling about how he certainly has a type.

This feeling goes haywire when he’s injured and you tend to him while also yelling at him to try and be more careful. He then decides to ask you why he feels this feeling in his heart and you are obviously shocked. You then have to try and explain the concept of love to him.

After a while, he gets protective over you and he’s glad that you grew the enchanted roses because that means you are safe while he is away. Whenever someone gets a bit too close, this mf is ready to throw hands.

He’s proud whenever you use magic. You are strong and smart as well as a bit feisty, so you are obviously his type (he marries Aoi, man definitely has a type). In the earlier stages of your relationship, he has been collared numerous times because he wouldn’t follow the rules.

When he overhears the conversation between you and one of the Hashira about Muzan coming after you for your magic, Inosuke goes silent. It’s not out of shock, mind you. It’s out of pure rage that his body couldn’t even begin to process.

From that point on, he’s more irritable than ever. You eventually ask him what the hell is wrong and he explains everything. He feels a bit ridiculous for being this angry, but you tell him that it’s not his fault. In fact, it was rather endearing to you.

Kanao Tsuyuri

She’s half an inch shorter than you, so the difference isn’t noticeable at all. It’s ironic because you both tend to see eye-to-eye on many different things. Other than that, you don’t comment on each other’s height at all.

She doesn’t speak too much but she does offer some words here and there. She makes sure to respect all the rules you had put in place at your mansion (and you are so freaking grateful for it that it’s not even funny).

She offers to live with you and stay at the Queen’s Palace to tend to the sick. You obviously accepted and wrote a letter to her older sister that you were needing some assistance and Kanao had offered to help you.

She helps you with your rose bushes as she does get worried about you not being able to defend yourself if not given the time to prepare. She listens as you teach her how much water and pruning the bushes need to stay healthy.

She’s shocked whenever you use your magic for anything. It’s not something you see everyday, so she always stares in curiosity as you revive a rose that was gifted to you or you collar someone who made you angry.

When she gets word that Muzan is coming after you for your magic, she gets flashbacks. She fell to the ground, but no tears were coming out… just like at her oldest sister’s funeral. She was not about to let that happen again.

She had noticeably become more helpful to the point you didn’t even have to lift up your finger for anything. She also has become more clingy in a way. You asked what the deal was and she quietly told you what was wrong. You held her close and whispered that you didn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.

Genya Shinazugawa

Would try to tease you about you being much shorter than him (he’s 5’11” or 180 cm). You most definitely have collared him multiple times. The thing is, he doesn’t know how to interact with women so he can’t hold a proper conversation without joking about your height.

One thing he would do is he would definitely be protective over you. He knows about emotions, so he’s not dense. Once he confessed to you, he stopped making fun of your shortness. From then on, he gets jealous very easily (as if he didn’t already).

He visits you often at the Queen’s Palace just so you could dote on him. One time, he came seriously injured and he just stared at you lovestruck as you went off on him about how he should try his best to be more careful.

I headcanon that he definitely does not have a green thumb, so you urge him to stay away from the roses. He sits at a nearby chair as he watches you tend to your garden. He admires the way you gently take care of your beloved flowers.

He’s always amazed by the way you harness your magic and overpower him or anyone else for that matter. You’re able to detain a demon with your unique magic, which prevents them from using their demon blood art.

When he overhears you talking to yourself about upping the security of the Palace for your protection against the forces of Muzan, he gets scared. He bursts into the room and asks you what the hell you meant by that.

From that point on, he’s the one who answers the door. He escorts you everywhere to make sure there is no surprise ambush or attack. He sleeps with you in your bed (consensually, and in a SFW way) so that he may be able to protect you at your most vulnerable point.

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avatarmerida · 2 years

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Huntlow height difference from willows pov

If you wanted it written in first person I’m sorry but I simply can’t write that style very well but I hope this is just as good anon

———

“Hey Hunter, can you come get the cake pan off the top shelf for me?” Willow called from the kitchen. Hunter eagerly hopped off the coach and sprang into the next room to assist her.

“Here ya go,” he said as he carefully handed her the glass pan. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Hmm I don’t think so,” said Willow, reading the recipe. “Oh, wait I think the brown sugar is up high as well. If you wouldn’t mind-.”

“On it!” said Hunter effortlessly bringing the bag down to her.

“Thank you,” smiled Willow taking the bag from him and setting it on the counter.

“If you want I could stick around in case there’s anything else you need that’s high up,” said Hunter, leaning against the counter attempting to look as causal as possible. “I could also help chop up the apples.”

“Sounds good to me,” smiled Willow, grateful for the help and the excuse to spend time with Hunter. She got a spare apron from beside the stove and Hunter ducked down so she could place it over his head like a medal. “I can start beating the eggs, just let me know if I’m in your way okay?”

“You could never be in my way,” Hunter assured as he tightened the bow around his waist (trying not to blush at the fact that Willow had given him one that read “Kiss the Cook” on the front) and the two began their work. The kitchen wasn’t big by any means, but the pair didn’t mind the lack of counter space. This had become their routine. By constantly offering to help Willow, Hunter found that he enjoyed the rhythm and method of baking. It was calming.

And the company wasn’t bad either.

They both worked side by side in silence, focused on their task. Willow began to him quietly under her breath, a habit she didn’t notice but Hunter adored.

“I think it needs cinnamon,” Hunter murmured to himself as he slid to the side to reached up into the cupboard above Willow. She was so focused on her own project she didn’t notice he had moved until she went to turn around to check if she had preheated the oven and found Hunter standing over her.

She sometimes forgot how tall he was. Had he gotten taller since they’d gotten here? Maybe his posture had just gotten better. But looking up him now with a view of his jawline highlighted by the kitchen light, Willow was grateful that she always conveniently forgot to remind Mrs. Noceda to pick up a step stool when they were out shopping.

“Oh, here it is,” said Hunter to himself as he found what he was looking for. He placed his other hand back on the counter as the other held the cinnamon as he looked back down to meet Willow’s gaze and realized he was standing over her. “Oh, sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-.”

“Oh it’s totally fine,” Willow squeaked. “Um could you see if the green spatula is up there?”

“Oh yeah of course,” he said as he continued to search, moving jars and cans around. “Hmm, sorry I don’t see it...”

“Oh, silly me it’s right here,” said Willow, as she miraculously found the mentioned spatula sitting beside her hand all along. There was something about having to look up to him made Willow want to reach up pull him down to her level to... help him hear her better.

“Oh, good,” said Hunter with a smile as he went back to his station as he combined Willow’s mixture with his own to send to the oven. “Well, let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Ya know it’s kind of funny,” said Willow as she placed the dishes in the sink. “Mrs. Noceda is barely taller than I am, I don’t understand how these things end up so high.”

“I mean, if you’ve got the storage, might as well use it right?”

“I guess,” chuckled Willow. “But I really appreciate you helping me, I don’t know how I’d do it without you.”

“Well, I know how much you love baking so it’s really no trouble at all,” said Hunter, admiring the way she cleaned her glasses with the end of her apron. “Anything to help, ya know?”

———

“Oh, Mrs. Noceda, please allow me,” said Hunter, swooping in as Camila began emptying to dishwasher. “Let me put those away for you.”

“Oh, why thank you mijo,” she said, allowing Hunter to take the clean baking pan from her. “Do you need a step stool? You don’t need to put them up so high.”

“Well, I figured you have the storage why not use it, right?”

#huntlow #it’s domestic and short and simple what do you want from me #willow park #hunter toh #toh #the owl house #hunter wittebane #winter toh #anon #ask

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writeblrfantasy · 3 years

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order of the phantom: also known as edlyn being done with everyone's shit ™ (particularly cerord's) ft one isntance where cerrick is done with hers

this is just from order of the phantom i might make comps from oots and ooti too lmao

“What is taking you two so long?” comes Edlyn’s voice, typically annoyed as she busts through the wooden double doors of their chambers. The two of them jump apart. “Ah, of course. I shouldn’t have expected any different. What is it about him in fancy clothes that’s so—uh—detrimental to you, Njord?”

“Saints above, you wouldn’t believe the meals he’s been making for all of us,” Edda sighs. “He’s banned me from my own kitchen. He couldn’t get more perfect.”

“I would beg to differ,” Cerrick says with a warm smile, reaching for Njord’s hand. “He’s not Njord.”

“This is what I haven’t missed. Insufferable, you two,” Edlyn says, lightly slapping Cerrick’s back. He chuckles, dodging out of the way.

Cerrick sighs, steeling himself. Njord is riding just ahead of them beside that scholar of Solveig’s who’s recording their whole journey, busy in her notebook. Njord can’t reach back and touch Cerrick, but he turns around and smiles, blowing him a kiss. That alone could sustain Cerrick through this whole battle.

“Insufferable,” Edlyn mutters. Cerrick elbows her.

Like he tends to do when Edda puts on anything of note, Brandr stares at her openmouthed, standing right in the way of foot traffic. Ivan stands beside him, looking at up at her in similar awe. His head comes up to the horse’s shoulder, barely.

Edda doesn’t notice them, she’s busy giving orders together with Solveig, who’s sitting tall and strong on a dark brown horse beside her.

“You two, stop gawking and get out of the way,” Edlyn says, pushing past Brandr and Ivan. “Why aren’t you on horseback yet?”

“Got distracted,” Brandr manages, finally tearing his eyes from Edda. Cerrick, who has been watching this whole debacle from the seat of the dappled gray horse Edda assigned him, snorts. Brandr getting a bit distracted over Edda is like saying Cerrick sometimes want to kiss Njord. Just a tad.

At sight of Cerrick, Njord smiles, mounting his black stallion with ease, the Pointstaff in his hand acting as a means with which to brace himself. He’s the same height as Edda, both on his feet and sitting beside her on their horses. The two of them talk quietly together. Njord has been getting along easily with every oligarch he meets so far.

“You’re staring now. Drooling, I might say.”

Cerrick whips his head around to see Edlyn, standing on the step she needs to mount the horse. Once she’s secure behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist, she mutters in his ear, “Don’t be so quick to judge Brandr and Ivan, you lovesick little shit.”

He scowls, suddenly glad Njord is not looking this way. “Shut up.”

“Crying wasn’t the sound I expected to hear from your room last night,” she says under her breath, either so that Brandr won’t have to hear or because she’s too sleepy for loud noises. Cerrick has been there many times, where every sound in the morning grates on him and motivates him to do unspeakable things, but this morning is not one of them. He’s peppy, especially with the first drink of coffee he’s about to take.

If she was hoping to faze him with such words, she’s failed. “Oh, don’t worry, that will come later,” Cerrick says at full volume, sliding onto a stool beside her. He pours himself some coffee from the pot. Brandr looks over but doesn’t say anything.

“You are insufferably awake,” she grumbles, retreating further into her blanket with her coffee mug. He hides his shit eating grin in the rim of his own.

Cerrick groans, recalling a conversation they had when Njord got him his new cloak, a meaningless comment made to Edlyn that he thought she forgot about. He forgot about it.

Don’t get black, he said. Well, she’s as stubborn and spiteful as him. He should’ve known better than to taunt her like that.

“And you call me insufferable. Is this what it’s going to be for the whole of our lives?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He sighs, long and hard, wondering why he chose to form a new country with this girl as his co ruler.

orderverse taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @willowiswriting @ninazeniks @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @ren-c-leyn @justwriteyoudummy @47crayons @yejidoesthings @ettawritesnstudies @faithfire @a-forgotten-dusk @talesfromaurea @ashen-crest @thelaughingstag

#lila's wips: ootp #writing #writeblr #excerpt from my wip #my wip #my writing #fantasy #fiction #original fiction #lila's excerpts #bean's excerpts #fantasy writeblr #fantasy writing

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lueurnotes · 4 years

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If it Please You

Oberyn Martell/Reader/Ellaria Sand

Word Count: 3673

Warnings: intimacy, nudity, brothel setting, intense flirting and eye-fucking; Oberyn deserves his own warning

King’s Landing found itself in a splendid rush, far different from the bell tolls spurred by war. From the slums of Flea Bottom, all the way to the Red Keep’s walls, the city was truly alive. Every capable man, woman, and child were at work. After all, there was a wedding to celebrate.

Your eyes fluttered open as another droplet of wet splattered in between your eyes. With a groan, you wiped at it with the sleeve of your nightgown. The thin blanket that draped over your body was quickly shoved to the side as you swung your legs over the small feather bed. The cold of the wood floor immediately seeped into your feet and goosebumps raced across your legs.

A moment passed while you took in the quiet of dawn. Even the gulls slept silently. All while the many servants, cooks, and handmaidens of the Red Keep rose before the sun to serve. It was far from the quiet life you had before you came to the castle, but in some ways, it was just as mute.

You let out a sigh and began to prepare for the day.

The wash basin set upon a small table in the corner of the room was your first destination. You ran your hands through the morning-chilled water, glancing into the small mirror you kept nailed to the wall. Going through the motions of your routine, you rinsed your mouth before spitting out into a separate bowl. You might live in the cramped maid chamber of an estate close enough to the Red Keep, but it wasn’t in the Red Keep. Nobody here was going to empty your chamber pot for you, let alone your used water.

With a slight hum, you went back to your bed, resting at the foot of it so you could open the one storage space available in such a small place. You carefully lifted the creaking lid of the rather aged chest that kept all of your creations. Everyday clothing, really, but still creations of your own. Creams, a few whites, but primarily muted hues of any color you could get your capable hands on dominated the collection. If your work in the estate provided one thing, it was material that you seldom had before you found this job. Smiling, you plucked a lilac dress from the many dresses, tunics, and breeches.

Swift with it, you removed your nightclothes, taking care to replace it with fresh underclothes. This dress in particular was a recent design, a very light fabric that extended over your arms fully and cinched at your waist with sewn-in corset boning. Without losing so much as a breath, you slipped it over your head, gently pulling down at the base. Perfect fit. You looked down to take in your work. The skirt itself was simple and fell at the middle of your shins. Perhaps, not entirely simple as you went through with the effort of hand-embroidering it with a repeated border of the phases of the moon. The thicker thread was a touch darker than the fabric, nearly blending in at the seam.

Directly across your bed was your private work table that rests under the single window of your room. You groaned when you saw the mess you left there previously. Lengthy pieces of chain scattered about that were meshed with bits of fabric and the many tools of your trade. Reaching under the modest craft table, you grabbed your one pair of boots that had the slightest heel to them. Pulling your skirt to the side, you quickly slipped them on and moved to sit on the small bed that dominated your chambers. Your hands moved deftly, tying up the loosened laces of yesterday taut once more. Glancing at the window as you finished lacing them up, you saw the sun just peeking over the city horizon. Your chest swelled with a deep breath and broke into a sigh as you stretched up to your full height.

Another day in King’s Landing.

…

A middle-aged woman sat perched on a stool amidst a room with possibly hundreds of bolts of fabric. Hair a tad greyed and her skin dull too, she stood out against the colorful collection spread across the wall. Each bolt of fabric possessed something that varied from the likes of you, her, or any other seamstress that ever walked into this room. These pieces of cloth would live to touch royalty one day.

Her hands flowed through the motions of sewing pieces of chiffon together as it flowed out across the table and spilled to the ground.

“Good morning, Koras,” you greeted.

Her hands continued to thread the petal pink chiffon without a glance in your direction.

Ahem.

“You are to send this,” the older woman gestured to a package, “to the Prince immediately. It’s the piece you worked on yesterday.” She deftly threaded the needle back through the fabric.

Messenger duty. You scoffed, but knew better than to argue.

“And which prince might that be?”

Gods, there had to be at least one hundred princes in the capital by now. All gathered to gaze upon the spectacle of a Tyrell-Lannister wedding. With any luck, it won’t be nearly as disastrous as the Frey’s.

She paused her progress, “Prince Oberyn Martell.”

You paused for a bit longer than Koras could tolerate as your mind raced through the names of the aforementioned hundreds of princes.

Ah.

“—of Dorne?”

“Yes, of Dorne!” She exasperated, “No, I meant the grown one that apparently licks at his mother’s breasts.”

Ok, that was too much information.

“Right away, Koras.” You hurriedly took the package from her worktable and moved to exit the seamstress’s space. Koras called out to you and your skirts twisted with your turn, “Yes?”

She sighed, “You forgot to ask where you’re headed off to.”

Ah, that’s important. You nodded.

She continued, “He’ll be in the Street of Silk, at Littlefinger’s establishment.”

Now that’s a proper way to put it.

“Thank you Koras,” you sang.

The woman made an affirmative grunt before picking up her needle and fabric once more.

Package in arm, you made your way out of the estate and towards the Street of Silk. The road extended straight out of the Red Keep and, unfortunately, was deemed too short of a walk to require a horse. While you may be delivering to a prince, the stables were reserved for far more important duties. Plus, the walk was nice… in its own way.

The sun was barely rising as the people outside of the Red Keep’s walls began to break from sleep. The sounds of the city slowly began to amplify with the rays of the morning light. And with that light, something truly special.

Your ears picked up the tell-tale splat of someone emptying their chamber pot.

Letting out a sigh, you sidestepped to get closer to the middle of the street and tread towards the one place that was truly always awake in King’s Landing.

…

Lord Baelish’s brothel came into view as you walked past the many brothels that aligned the Street of Silk. At this point, you would be far from surprised if Littlefinger owned more than half of the houses on the Silk alone.

A smile graced your lips as a few children ran about as their mothers followed them closely to take them to bathe. Stopping at an entryway with a mockingbird sigil, you walked up the stone steps to enter. The crimson-dark shades of the establishment did little in the ways to help with your sight. Briskly, you found your way past the many private red rooms of the brothel. Not that anything was truly private within the gates of the capital. Keeping your gaze set forward to the uppermost chambers of the pleasure house, you continued to the center room where there was usually someone to greet you. The ornate door that guarded the most expensive room of the entire place was no doubt the rooms of the Dornish prince, but there was no way you would go up and knock this early in the morning.

You glanced about the atrium in silent frustration. Choosing to sit and wait on a chaise lounge without any visible stains, you made yourself comfortable. You internally groaned at the thought of knocking directly on the door, prince or otherwise. Where the hell was Olyvar?

As if summoned by mere thought, the majordomo poked his head out of the room that you were bracing yourself to walk into.

“Olyvar!” you grinned, standing up. His shirt was nowhere to be found and he smiled as he ran his fingers through his hair, a weak attempt to tame the bed-tousled blonde locks. He called to you in greeting.

Still holding the package close, you walked up to him and smoothed out the taller man’s hair with one hand.

“Rough night?” your eyes trailed across his collarbone and chest, nearly every part littered with marks and love bruises.

“A rather fun one,” he glanced at your occupied arm, “Oh, so m’ lady is not here for breakfast, then?”

Had no idea there was actual food to eat here.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I’m afraid not, and you know as well as I, that I’m far from a lady.” You nodded towards the shut door, “But I’m actually here for the prince.”

“Ah, of course, head right on in then. They won’t mind.” You said your thanks and made your way to the door.

Wait a minute. Them?

Your heartbeat could not help the quickening in pace as you quietly turned the knob of the door. Despite the brightness of the outside world, you inadvertently squinted to adjust to the dimness of the chambers. The scent of sex and something else dominated the decorated bedroom. A spice perhaps? Or maybe citrus? Either way, it was an incense unlike anything of King’s Landing. Unlike anything of Westeros even.

“My lord?” You called out into the room.

A figure you hadn’t noticed before rose from the chaise lounge that was set near the platformed bed. The woman that approached you was much like the perfume that enveloped the room, enveloped you. She was unlike anything of Westeros. Her hips swayed and her gown followed with every movement. The amber fabric draped as if it were a part of her body. An extension of her that swept delicately over the marbled floor as she sauntered towards you.

You caught yourself, quickly dropping to a curtsy in greeting, “My lady, I apologize for the intrusion, but I am here for the prince.”

The woman let out a chuckle, “No need for that, I am not the one to bow to.” Her Dornish accent was warm and smooth like the finest suede you could touch on the Street of Looms. Smoothly, you straightened your posture and chanced a glance up to meet her eyes. Although you were fully dressed and had been awake for far longer than the woman in front of you, it was as if the Gods had blessed her with a beauty that knew no hours, be it dawn or dusk.

“I am Ellaria Sand,” her eyes glittered, “And you must be the gift he sent. What is your name, love?”

Ellaria’s hand trailed up your arm and you nearly dropped the parcel as you stuttered out your name. Maybe she didn’t understand? Is there a different language in Dorne? Oh, my Gods— her soft hand tilted your chin up, “Beautiful.”

If the Gods wished you to pass away right there in the apartment of a brothel, then so be it.

“Thank you, my lady—,” You began.

Her thumb tapped at your lip, “Ah, ah. Say my name,” her head tilted just a fraction, and her lengthy waves shifted with it as she leaned impossibly close to your parted lips.

“Ellaria.”

Your mouth was agape as you both turned at the masculine voice that graced your senses. Leaving the warm touch of Ellaria, you dropped to a curtsy, arm still holding onto the package.

“My lord,” your eyes trailed from his laced boots, the very hem of his robe-like garment, up to the bronze-linked necklace that sat center on his bare chest. You explored the detailed suns that were embroidered across the entire piece. Only then did you lock eyes with Prince Oberyn Martell. And much like Ellaria, they glittered. Except only his shone with mirth.

Shit. He definitely noticed me checking him out.

He let out a charming laugh that did little to stave the flutter in your chest after nearly being kissed by the woman next to you. It was devastating.

“It’s alright, girl,” he smirked, “Is my paramour causing trouble?”

Once again standing straight, you hurriedly shook your head, “No, my lord. I am afraid that I am the one at fault.” You cleared the nerves that caught in your throat, “I had only meant to deliver this package to you. Your altered garments for the wedding as requested.”

Ellaria’s voice lilted, “My mistake, love. I was so taken by you I had just thought Oberyn sent a girl to wake me.”

Oh.

Oh!

As if the situation could not be more unreal. Her words sent your mind ablaze like wildfire. Thoughts of you entwined with the alluring Ellaria swept over your senses. It burned you somewhere deep within. The feeling set your very soul ablaze.

Distracting you from the flurry of thoughts that were bound to follow, Oberyn interrupted it by closing the proper distance between you. Gently, you offered him the package and he took it from your hold, still gazing at your eyes. He made his way over to the chaise that Ellaria had just been occupying moments ago, carefully unfolding the bundle to reveal the fabric within. Oberyn skimmed his ringed fingers over the gilded brocade, stopping shortly to look warmly up at you.

“Incredible work,” he paused, “I did not get your name before I found you warming up to Ellaria.”

Your face burned with both praise and fluster as you said your name. “If it please you, my lord, you may call me that.”

Gods. This is the longest conversation with a highborn—

“It does please me,” he looked at Ellaria, “And I can see you please her as well.” Eyes a fraction wider, you turned to her in disbelief and she smirked at you. Her gaze grew warm despite the chill of the morning that seeped into the room during the early hours. You swore by the New and the Old Gods that the heat of your soul alone kept you standing… and quite possibly the willpower of someone that had not shared a bed in quite some time.

Yep, calling it. I will pass away in a brothel apartment.

For the umpteenth time that morning, you cleared your throat, “My lord, I do not work for Littlefinger, nor am I just a messenger. I was the seamstress commissioned to alter your robe.” You bit your lip, already flushed from the attention.

You failed to notice the prince’s eyes darken at the action.

His bronzed hands set the garment to the side and rested at his thighs that were spread just the slightest. Your eyes were glued to the way the rich ochre panels of the robe shifted with each slight movement. Had you been born a hound instead of a human, you would have licked at your lips.

“So you are not attracted to my Ellaria?” he asked bluntly.

This time, his question and the touch of Ellaria made you jump. Gooseflesh spread across your arms as she slowly grazed your waist and leaned her lips close to your ear, murmuring your name as if to coax the answer from you.

“I, I—,” you shuddered, “I mean no offense, my lord, of course. But, like I was saying, I’m just a seamstress for the Red Keep ah—”

Ellaria’s hand trailed back up to your chin and turned your head so she could get a look at your face.

“Not timid, just holding back,” she smiled fondly, “Sweet girl, may I commission you to spend your day with us?”

Ellaria looked at Oberyn, “For her troubles, my love.” Her finger grazed your lip once more and you had to physically stop yourself from getting just a taste of her, “I am sure she had work to do today.”

Who were you to deny her? And him?

The last of the rationale of your mind took over and you blurted, “I can make you something.” Her brow raised in question. “For the wedding, I mean. If you’re to pay me then I ought to give you something in return.”

Ellaria chuckled. It was musical. “What do you say, my love?” She looked at Oberyn, hand falling from your face. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

His eyes gleamed as he stood up to his full height, ambling towards you both, “It would be my pleasure,” his hand reached down to yours as he brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on the arches of your knuckles. Oberyn murmured your name and the very sound raised the hairs at the nape of your neck. “Your work is exquisite, but a gown would be a bit—,” His hand let go of yours and instead moved to rest at your waist, “—short notice, no?”

You shook your head, eyes wide, “I have been working on a project for quite some time, my lord. A jewelry piece fit for a queen.” You had to bite back a frown, “Well, it would have been for the Queen Regent herself, but her handmaiden told me that it was too fierce.” Your eyes flitted back up to meet him as you relaxed into his warm touch.

Oberyn leaned closer, “My girl, that sounds perfect for Ellaria.”

As if on cue, Ellaria’s body pressed to your backside and warmth blossomed from the center of her embrace. She spoke smoothly, “I can not wait to wear it, but in the meantime, I want you to change.”

Huh?

“Change into what?” You asked.

Oberyn’s brow quirked in question, much like yours. It was like he and Ellaria had an entire conversation within half a second before his confusion melted away into a look of pure mischief. He looked down at your curious gaze with a smirk that slowly spread into a smile that nearly stopped the beat of your heart.

“Would you let Ellaria undress you?”

Anytime, anywhere.

“Of course,” you rasped.

“Good.” He then turned away from you, padding across the room towards the chaise. Your eyes trailed after the swish of his sun-drenched robes until a pair of lips kissing softly at your neck broke you from your trance. You pivoted towards Ellaria, glancing into her sparkling brown eyes as you held a wavering hand to her cheek, your brows furrowed and eyes shining in eagerness.

“Before I undress, may I kiss you?”

Her warm giggle played to your ears, melodic as ever, “My love, I was about to ask the same.”

You let out a featherlight laugh before you both leaned in impossibly closer within each other’s embrace, her breath gently dancing on your parted lips. Ellaria quickly closed the minute gap, her mouth melding to yours in equally restrained excitement as she pulled you in by the waist. You responded in kind, stroking at her cheek as she deepened the kiss. Quite suddenly, she pulled away with a heated gasp, a sunny smile gracing the lips that had just been upon yours.

“Ok, ok, I got it. Now I’ll undress,” you grinned as you were reaching down to pull up at your skirt.

A firm grip on your arm stopped you in your actions. You turned to meet the heated stare of Oberyn, his eyes growing impossibly darker. He looked to Ellaria.

“Undress our guest, my love.”

Ellaria leaned down, dutifully pulling your dress skirt upwards as she rose up. The fabric and boning was pulled from your body as you stood in just your scant underclothes and boots, heart racing. Ellaria’s deep eyes roamed across your exposed skin and her look nearly made you shiver despite the heat coursing through you. She leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on your pliant mouth.

“Beautiful,” she whispered lowly in your ear.

Without another word of praise, she disappeared from your vision, taking your dress with her. Like clockwork, Oberyn’s hand found its way to the small of your back and you turned to him.

“Take the rest off.”

You nearly had to stifle a mewl from the slow drawl of his voice before nodding your assent, quickly moving to get everything off. When at last you stood bare before him, both underclothes and boots in a dejected pile on the floor, your eyebrows shot up.

“Why are you holding your robes?”

“I need them to smell like you,” he breezily replied, “Now let me clothe you.”

“O-Ok.”

You let him dress you with your work, the golden brocade familiar to your hands, to your body. The familiarity was jarring. These were two people you just met. Two people that might not see you ever again. And yet, the spark there was undeniable. It didn’t matter if it flickered once and died, or if it consumed and burned you for eternity. You just hoped to ignite.

“Perfect.”

You grinned, raising your arms at him, the sleeves hanging over your hands, “Perfect?”

He chuckled warmly, grabbing your form and pulling you into his embrace, his lips grazing lightly over your own as you shuddered.

“Yes, my sweet girl. Perfect.”

As if to prove his assertion, he bent down to kiss your lips with a similar slowness much like Ellaria. Heat pooled in your belly when the prince dared to bite at your bottom lip, a moan slipped from your mouth as you responded with equal eagerness, hands grasping at whatever was in reach.

a/n: thank you for your patience! I’m sorry I couldn’t get this out sooner... I also cut the explicit part because I definitely lack the confidence to post it right now. Maybe a part two will happen :( sorry y’all

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell #pedro pascal #oberyn martell x reader x ellaria #game of thrones #lueur writes

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roseworth · 4 years

Text

Bridging the Gap

Description: Eugene is a few inches taller than Rapunzel, so Rapunzel likes to find ways to reach his height easier.

Word count: 2098

Relationship: Eugene/Rapunzel

AO3

Eugene was taller than Rapunzel. It was never really a problem, it’s just a few inches. She didn’t really mind the height difference, sometimes she even liked it. It made it a lot easier for him to rest his arm on her, or for her to lay her head on his shoulder.

The problem was it added a slight obstacle for when they wanted to kiss. Most of the time, they got around it with her standing on her tiptoes and/or pulling him down to her height, but she just thought it was a bit of a nuisance.

She mentioned this to him one time, thinking he probably noticed the same thing. “It’s like it’s just enough of a gap that it’s noticeable, right?” she said to him after explaining her thoughts.

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it,” he shrugged. “I mean, I’m taller than you, but not unbearably so, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just a little hindrance I guess, there’s not really any way around it.”

When she said that, he immediately started smirking like he had an idea. She knew it was the same face that he made whenever he was about to do something sneaky. Before she could even make a comment about it, in one motion he swept her off her feet and started holding her bridal style. She beamed as he leaned in so their foreheads were touching.

“See? Easy fix, we’re at the same eye level now,” he grinned charismatically. She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him.

“Easy fix,” she repeated, giggling.

After that, they had made a point of finding different ways to cross the height gap. Once she found out a Corona Law Book was just about the same height as the difference between them, she was able to use it as a step stool to reach him (“Finally, that book is being used for something good,” Eugene had commented).

There was one way to break the gap, though, that as much as it worked out, she hated it.

They had been living in the castle for a couple months, and her dad was planning to throw a ball. At first, she was ecstatic. She was so excited to get to meet so many new friends! That was until she realized what she was expected to wear.

“I don’t understand how anyone does this,” she mumbled, clinging onto Eugene’s arm for dear life. He chuckled.

“I don’t know, Blondie, personally I’ve never really been a high heels guy either.”

“How am I supposed to balance? Whoever invented these shoes has to understand how impractical they are,” she complained. “Normal shoes are bad enough, why add the need to balance yourself while you wear them?” She tried to take a step forward, then immediately started falling forwards.

“Whoa, you alright?” Eugene asked as he shifted to catch her before she fell on the ground.

She straightened up and nodded. “How am I going to do this all night?” she asked dejectedly.

“Hey, that’s what we’re practicing for, right? Once you can make it around your room in these, you’ll be able to do anything!”

She sighed. Her mom had given her tips for walking in high heels, like where to shift her weight and how to center her balance, but applying the tips was proving to be a lot more difficult than she anticipated. Slowly, still holding onto Eugene, she took another step. This time, though, she didn’t fall! She apprehensively started taking more steps.

“Look at that, you’re a natural!” Eugene celebrated.

“I still won’t be able to do anything without holding onto you, though,” Rapunzel laughed.

He shrugged. “Honestly, Sunshine, I think I get the best end of this deal. I have an excuse to keep the prettiest girl in the room right next to me all night.” Rapunzel blushed and rolled her eyes.

“Hey, on the bright side, we’re almost the same height now,” she pointed out. “It makes it a lot easier to do this.” She grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him. She smiled as they forgot about the task at hand, both of them melting into each other for a few seconds.

“Well, thank god for high heels, huh?” he joked as they pulled apart.

Even though she loved being the same height as him with her heels, she would much rather need to reach his height in a different way than spend any more time than she needed to in those shoes. Which is why she was delighted to find other fun ways to kiss him than that.

“Listen, Raps, I just can’t trust Eugene with something like this,” Cass said. Rapunzel had just gotten her hair back because of the black rocks, and Cass didn’t want her to tell Eugene what happened. Rapunzel understood where she was coming from, but that didn’t mean she agreed with it. She knew Eugene wouldn’t tell anyone a secret this big. He had been able to keep his name a secret for years, he would easily be able to keep this secret.

“Come on, Cass, I trust Eugene with my life, he can handle one secret,” she responded.

Cass shook her head. “I know you trust him, but I don’t. Just, please, don’t tell him,” she begged. Rapunzel sighed.

“Fine, I won’t say anything. But I think you’ve got him all wrong,” she insisted. Cass raised an eyebrow as Rapunzel continued. “I’m serious, if I were to run and jump at him I guarantee he would catch me.”

As if on cue, Eugene opened the door. “Hey, Blondie, I-” he started, then stopped himself as he saw Rapunzel running towards him.

“Eugene, catch!” She threw herself onto him, and he caught her as she did. She wrapped her legs around his waist and rested her arms on his shoulders. His hands were on her waist, keeping her steady to make sure they wouldn’t both fall over.

“Well, hey there,” Eugene mused. She beamed back at him and touched their foreheads together.

“Hi,” she responded quietly, feeling like they were the only people in the world for a moment. They stayed in that position for a bit, smiling at each other, neither of them needing to say anything.

“Oh, give me a break,” Cass scoffed, rolling her eyes. They ignored her as she left the room.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my arms this morning?” Eugene asked teasingly.

“I wanted to prove to Cass that I could trust you,” she explained. He sighed. Ever since Rapunzel had gotten her hair back, Cass hadn’t been keeping it a secret that she didn’t trust Eugene. He (almost) didn’t even care what the actual secret they were keeping was, he was just mad that it was being kept from him.

“You can always trust me, Sunshine,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I promise I’d never lie to you or do anything to hurt you.”

Rapunzel gave him a soft smile, then started smirking. “‘There it is, the Snuggly Duckling. Very quaint place, perfect for someone like you,’” she quoted, mocking his voice.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Hey, that one doesn’t count,” he protested. “Besides, it did end up being perfect for you, so I guess I was right in the end.”

“I guess so,” she agreed, grinning. “I know I can trust you, Eugene. I love you, I know you’d never steer me wrong.”

“I love you, too,” he said softly. “Sunshine, I really did mean it the other day when I said that I always want to be by your side. I know you’re going through a lot right now, but I’m always here for you.”

She thought her heart might burst at that second. She told Cass she wouldn’t tell Eugene what happened the other night, but it was taking all her power not to tell him everything right then and there. She didn’t want to keep this secret (or any secret) from him, and she felt like she was drowning every second she couldn’t tell him.

She didn’t know how to put any of her thoughts into words, so she pulled him into a kiss and hoped that through it, he would understand everything she wanted to say. She wondered how, even after months of being with him, every time they kissed it felt like her heart going to melt. For a moment, everything that had happened in the past few days seemed to fade away. As long as he was holding her, there was no problem that could ruin their moments together.

She did have a favorite way around the height difference, though, and she had a sneaking suspicion it was his favorite, too. She figured it out very early on, even before she had really thought about the difference in their height.

There was a huge celebration when Rapunzel first returned to Corona, and after years alone, she was beyond ecstatic to celebrate with the entire kingdom. Sure, there were a few bumps, but for the most part she felt like she fit right in with everyone.

Luckily, Eugene was right by her side through all of it. He helped her navigate through what she needed to do in social interactions that she wasn’t used to, and even helped her sneak away when he saw her start to get overwhelmed.

Mostly, though, she was just happy they were together when she was feeling the happiest she had ever felt. She felt really loved, not the surface-level love she felt from Gothel.

She was talking to some citizens of her new kingdom, then as they left she realized that her crown was no longer on her head. She couldn’t help but smile as she turned around and saw Eugene hiding it behind his back.

She lifted her hand to ask for it back, but he moved it out of her reach as she went to grab it. She laughed, grabbing his shirt and dipping him. She rolled her eyes and leaned in to kiss him, and he placed her crown back on her head as he returned the kiss.

After a moment, she pulled away and lifted him back up, beaming at him. Eugene grinned back at her. “Blondie, I can’t say anyone’s ever dipped me like that before.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” she said awkwardly. “Was that not okay? Maybe I should have asked first, I just did it without thinking I guess, I-”

“Hey, hey, no need to apologize,” he interrupted, resting his hand on her cheek. “That was fantastic.”

Her face lit up at his response. “I love you,” she gushed. That was another thing it felt great to say. Being able to tell him that she loved him without it feeling like an obligation or a transaction was a simple thing that felt so freeing.

“I love you, too, Sunshine.”

“‘Sunshine’?” she repeated, smiling.

He grimaced. “Sorry, is that one of the ones on the ‘Don’t Say That’ list?”

She had talked with him and her parents about some of the things Gothel would say to her, and which of them would remind her of that. They were helping her understand how the things Gothel said to her were wrong, and that they wouldn’t hurt her like Gothel did.

She quickly shook her head. “No, no, I like Sunshine,” she assured him. “Is it because of the Sun Flower?”

“Well, honestly no,” he said. “It’s because you’re the light of my life, so Sunshine fits pretty well to me.”

She blushed as she felt her heart racing. “Are you always this sappy?” she teased, her smile growing more over her face.

He laughed. “Hey, it’s easy to be sappy when you get to be in love with the most amazing person in the world.”

“I know the feeling,” she giggled, grabbing his shirt and lifting herself on to her toes to kiss him again.

She wondered, not for the first time (and certainly not the last), how she had ever lived without all of this. Being with her parents and Eugene and all her new friends, she was happier than she thought she could ever be, and she had only been there for a few days. She was still afraid that this was all a dream she would soon wake up from, but she used thoughts like that to inspire herself to live in the moment.

And at that moment, kissing her Dream surrounded by hundreds of people was exactly the moment she wanted to live in.

#i was like 'this will just a quick fun thing to write! it wont take a lot of time!'#then it took me like a month to finish this just bc i kept forgetting about it or trying to work on other things #but i did it :)#i hope you enjoy bc this was Unnecessarily Difficult #but im almost done with the semester!!! so theoretically i will have more time to write soon :^)#alright thats all thank u goodbye #tangled #fanfic #my writing #new dream #tangled the series

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etoileholland · 4 years

Note

🍒 This idea came out of nOwHeRe and I'm glad it did, maybe Harry Holland x Tall!Reader where she thinks she can't do that thing where the girl sits on top of the countertop and the guy stands in between her legs to kiss her but Harry convinces her of otherwise? I hope this makes sense, bonne journée!

oh this is good!!! tall girl struggles am I right?

—

You’ve always towered a bit over Harry, but he never minded it, not one bit. He loved that you were a few inches taller than he was, and when you felt insecure about it, he constantly alleviated your insecurities. Half the time he forgot that you were taller than him, since he hardly ever brought it up or even realised it.

It was always you who brought it up, like today. You were making pumpkin spice cookies with Harry in the kitchen of your flat. Well, at least, you were attempting to since he was getting a bit handsy and clingy.

When you finally got the cookies into the oven, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a kiss. You kissed him back gently but he began to deepen the kiss even further. His hands went to your lower back, grasping at the pink hoodie that you had stolen from him. He walked you backwards carefully and pushed you up against the counter.

“Baby,” he whispered, his lips swollen and red, “sit on the countertop for me.”

You looked at him and shook your head. “Y-you know I can’t, right?”

Harry looked back at you slightly dumbfounded. “What’s wrong darling, did you break your butt bones or something?” He joked, laughing when you guffawed.

“Ha-ha, very funny mister.” You smirked, “but seriously, I can’t.”

“Why not princess?” He looked back at you concerned, and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “Is something the matter?”

“Not really, I suppose, it’s just that I’m too tall for that.”

Harry looked back at you confused, so you decided to elaborate on what you had just said. “I mean, if I sit on the counter and we make out, I’ll be too tall for you to kiss me properly.”

You averted your gaze to the ground, but Harry lightly tilted your face to meet his. “Hey, that’s not true. You being tall wouldn’t make any difference whatsoever, and besides, it may be a challenge and you know I love those.” He laughed and you did too. “I love you, so much.” He placed a kiss on your lips, but before you could deepen it, he pulled away.

“Darling, please sit on the counter.” He instructed, patting the marble countertop. You hopped up onto the countertop, spreading your legs slightly. Harry grinned at you playfully before taking a step backwards. “Wait right here.” He quickly ran out of the room and came back with a small step stool that he found in the garage. You snickered as he came into the kitchen with it in hand, placing it right in front of where you were sitting.

“Don’t laugh,” he joked, “not everyone was blessed with height.” He delicately placed his hands on your legs to spread them apart, and then stood on the step stool. He cupped your face with his hands, leaning in to kiss you. Ghosting his lips over yours, he whispered, “I love you so much, so much in fact that I would stand on a step stool in order to make out with you.”

You shook your head playfully and giggled. “I love you more Harry.” You stated before he placed his lips on yours again.

—

Cordelia’s celebration 🎉

taglist below

mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sunflowerhollands @taciturnspidey @lmaotshollandd @musicalkeys @harrysleftchelseaboot @halfblood-princess-505 @quaksonhehe @mdlyncline @zeppelin005

#cordelia's celebration #mine #harry holland x reader #harry holland x you #harry holland x y/n #harry holland #harry holland blurb #harry holland fluff

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pikapeppa · 4 years

Text

Sten/f!Mahariel: Fall Into The Tide, Chapter 2

In which Yara Mahariel is like “CREATORS I’M ON A BOAT” and Sten has all the chill.

~4300 words; read on AO3 instead.

*******************

Yara hovered in the doorway of the guest cabin. It was a small cabin, just barely tall enough for Sten to stand up straight. The furnishings were sparse: a cedar chest for storage and a plain wooden stool, an equally plain tiny wooden table, and a bed.

Just the one solitary bed.

Yara eyed the bed with a nervous sort of writhing in her belly. It was a double bed: a reasonable enough size for a qunari of Sten’s breadth and height, though it probably wouldn’t be comfortable to share.

Not that we’ll be sharing it, she thought hastily. There was no reason to share the bed, after all; it occupied most of the space in the cabin, but there was enough room on the floor to lay out a bedroll.

“It is small, but we’ll make do,” Sten said from behind her.

She tore her eyes away from the bed and shifted aside so he could enter the cabin. “Of course,” she said. “It’s, um. At least it’s dry. Having a roof overhead will make for a nice change.”

He nodded. He was critically inspecting the bed. “We will take turns sleeping in the bed,” he said. “I will sleep on the floor every other night.”

“What?” Yara said in surprise. “No, that’s not – you paid for the cabin, you should sleep in the bed! I’ll sleep on the floor.”

He shook his head and continued to inspect the mattress. “We will take turns,” he repeated.

Yara tilted her head chidingly, but she didn’t bother arguing with him further. His offer wasn’t motivated by chivalry, she knew, but rather by his sense of what was equal and fair, and trying to argue with him would probably just turn into a discussion of the societal detriment of money as a means of exchanging goods and services. And as much as Yara would usually be game to engage Sten in such a discussion, she was feeling too nervous about their imminent departure to push it.

She shrugged and smiled. “All right, if you insist. I’ll sleep in the bed half the time. I’m not going to argue with you if it’s to my benefit.”

“It may not be to your benefit if the mattress has bedbugs,” Sten said.

Yara took an involuntary step back. “Does it?”

He glanced at her, and she relaxed and smiled. “Very funny, Sten.”

His expression softened, and he turned away from the bed and nodded at the door. “Come. It’s best to start the journey above deck.”

She followed him out of the cabin. The ship was a smaller craft, manned by about forty women and men from Rivain, and the deck was a bustle of activity as the barefoot sailors pulled on ropes and loosened the sails and prepared themselves to set out. Sten led her toward the left-hand side of the boat – or the port side, as she’d heard one sailor say – and they gazed quietly at the Denerim dockside as the sailors prepared to cast off.

The docks were still bustling: merchants hawking wares and children playing and residents helping to tidy the debris. Yara watched it all for a moment, then looked up at Sten. “Have you been on many journeys on the sea?”

“Yes,” he said. “Primarily short journeys from Seheron to Par Vollen and back, but also to Tevinter. The journey to this country was the longest I have taken.”

She nodded, then paused as she realized something. “That reminds me,” she said. “I forgot to ask how long this trip is.”

He gave her an odd look before replying. “It is a three-week journey with swift winds. Maybe longer if the weather is foul.”

She nodded, then raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You are unprepared for this journey,” he said.

She let out a little laugh and idly ruffled her hair. “I… yes, you’re right. I really didn’t think about this much.”

His frown deepened. “It is unlike you to act with so little preparation.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I know, I know, you thought I was overpreparing to meet the Archdemon. But it turned out for the best in the end, right? The dwarves in particular really came in handy against those ogres.”

Sten grunted noncommittally. “You should be prepared for what is to come. This is a small vessel. You will likely become seasick.” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a small sachet that smelled of mint, then handed it to her. “Chew on this if you feel ill, and stand at the bow.” He pointed toward the front of the boat. “Keep an eye on the horizon. It will help your mind and body align, easing the illness that you will feel.”

She smiled up at him. “Are these qunari tips and tricks you’re sharing?”

He gave her a flat look. “This is common knowledge, kadan. It is in your interest to heed it.”

She chuckled and carefully tucked the mint into her vest pocket. “I hear you loud and clear. Anything else you think I should know before we set out?”

Sten showed her the basic common areas of the ship, and Yara politely introduced herself to the captain and his officers. Upon discovering that she was not only a Grey Warden, but the Grey Warden who had landed the killing blow on the Archdemon, the sailors immediately began peppering her with questions about the Blight and being a Warden and what it was like to face the ancient tainted dragon. Yara tried to hide her weariness as she answered their questions – as much as she could answer their questions, at least, considering that all she knew of the Wardens was what little Alistair, Duncan, and Riordan had been able to tell her. She eventually managed to deflect the sailors’ questions by asking them questions in turn about their jobs, probing them about the places they had travelled and their lives on the sea, and when the topic of conversation turned away from her, she began to feel more at ease.

Eventually the captain barked at the crew to take their positions and weigh anchor. As they drifted away from her to resume their posts, Yara let out a breath and looked up at Sten, who had been standing silently at her back throughout the conversation.

He raised his eyebrows, and she smiled and gestured at the port taffrail. He nodded in return, and they drifted over to watch the Denerim docks as the ship began to move.

The movement was slow and gradual at first as the ship slid out of its narrow berth. They swiftly picked up speed as they left the port, however, and by the time Yara realized how quickly this was all happening – how quickly she was being carried away from dry land, away from the only country she had ever known – Denerim was disappearing into the distance, disappearing with greater speed until she could no longer make out the individual people on the dock.

She released a slow breath, then inhaled deeply and ran her slightly trembling hands through her hair. The wind smelled fresh and salty, and the ship was sliding smoothly through the deep turquoise depths of the Amaranthine Ocean, and…

Creators, she was on the ocean. She, Yara Mahariel, a Dalish elf who’d been conscripted to become a Grey Warden, was sailing across the Amaranthine Ocean to Par Vollen with her qunari friend. If she hadn’t lived through all the crazy events of this past year, it would seem utterly and entirely mad.

Fen’ain romped up to her and barked, and she smiled and scratched the big mabari behind his ears. Then Sten spoke to her. “You look pale. Chew the mint if you are nauseated.”

She glanced at him in surprise, then shook her head. “No, I – I feel fine. I actually… I was just thinking that the air smells good out here. Different.”

He nodded. “The smell of the sea. It is a comfort. Or it would be, if other smells weren’t so pungent.” He shot Fen’ain a pointed look.

Fen’ain cocked his head, and Yara smiled more widely. “You can give him a bath anytime, Sten,” she said playfully.

“Perhaps I should,” Sten said.

Fen’ain tucked his tail between his legs and whined, and Sten frowned at him. “Cowardice does not suit you,” he said sternly. “Fortunately for you, water is a precious resource on a ship. We will have to suffer your stench for some time longer.”

Fen’ain wagged his tail. Sten shook his head in disappointment before walking away, and Yara watched in amusement as he disappeared into the crew and guest quarters. He emerged shortly after with a book in hand and went up to the forecastle deck, then settled himself on a bench with his book.

Yara smiled to herself, then turned back to the ocean and inhaled the strange and foreign scent of the ocean. Denerim was already a fuzzy blur on the horizon, notable more thanks to its proximity to the lush verdancy of the Brecilian Forest, and when even the Forest became nothing more than a fuzzy and indistinct blur of green, she sighed.

She felt… odd. Melancholy but light at the same time. Her whole body felt looser than it had in ages, and the near-constant tension headache she’d been having for the past few months was blessedly gone, at least for now. And yet, she couldn’t really say that she was happy. Happier than she was before the Archdemon was dead, certainly, but not actually happy.

She shouldn’t be expecting to suddenly be happy, though. It wasn’t like everything she’d been through over the past year had gone away. She was still a girl who’d been torn away from her clan against her will. She was still a girl whose best friend had been turned into darkspawn, and whom she’d been forced to kill. She was still a girl who’d been raised up from the comfortable obscurity of the forest into the so-called Hero of Ferelden, whether she wanted to be called a hero or not.

She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the cloudless sky. At least here on this ship, she was free from that unwanted title. The Rivaini sailors might find her fascinating, but she’d deflected their attention once already, and she could do it again. And Sten certainly wouldn’t be hero-worshipping her anytime soon, which was an enormous relief.

She gazed silently at the seemingly endless ocean. The longer she stood there just gazing vacantly at the water, the more oddly tense she started to feel, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

She sighed and looked over at the bench where Sten was sitting with his book. Then she and Fen’ain wandered up to the forecastle to join him.

She took a seat on the bench and glanced at the open book in his lap, then double-taked. “Sten, what are you reading?” she demanded.

“A book that the healer mage gave to me,” he said. “It is called The Rose of Orlais.”

Yara gaped at him. “That’s – but that’s a romance novel! You’re reading a romance novel?”

“I am studying it,” he corrected. “The more I learn of your customs, the more complete my report to the Arishok will be. So far, what I have learned is that human customs of mating are inefficient and illogical.” He shot her a frank look. “But the customs of elves are also inefficient, if the assassin’s behaviour toward you was representative.”

Yara laughed.

He raised his eyebrows. “What amuses you?”

“You,” she said warmly. “Sten of the beresaad, studying an Orlesian romance novel.”

He scowled at her. “Do not call me a softie.”

She laughed again. “I wasn’t going to. I was just… wondering, I suppose. Are all qunari like you?”

“We all know our roles in the world and fulfill them for the benefit of all, if that’s what you mean,” he said dryly.

“I don’t really mean that,” she said. “I mean… well, for example, would your brothers in the beresaad study romance novels?”

Sten frowned. “They… did not have the capacity to do so,” he said slowly.

Yara raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“They could not read the common tongue,” he said. “They spoke it passably, but they could not read it.”

“Really?” Yara said in surprise. “You were the only one in your group who could read?”

“The only one who could read your language,” Sten said. “All imekari are equally taught to read in our language.”

“That’s… really nice, actually,” Yara admitted. She’d been shocked and dismayed to learn how many elves in the Denerim alienage didn’t know how to read.

Sten shot her a sideways look. “And that is another sign of the flaws in your society. How can you learn to think if you are not taught to read? If the tools of gaining wisdom are kept from you?”

She grimaced. “I suppose you have a point.”

He nodded, then returned his attention to the book, and Yara watched him fondly for a moment. Sten could rationalize his reading material all he wanted, but she somehow didn’t believe that his only motive was to study.

She shifted a little closer to him on the bench. “Will you read it to me?” she said, half-jokingly.

He shot her a suspicious look. “For what purpose?”

She shrugged. “Why not? I’m not doing anything else right now.”

He looked at her more fully, and her belly did a funny little jolt: he was studying her again in that penetrating way of his.

“This bothers you,” he said.

She blinked. “What does?”

“Your inactivity,” he said. “Your lack of goal. This is bothersome to you.”

She faltered, thrown off by his change of topic. “I… I don’t know if I’d call it bothersome,” she hedged. “It’s a little strange, maybe. It’s been a while since I was able to just do nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is this not a goal in itself among your people? To be able to do nothing?”

She stared at him with growing bemusement. “Why would you think that?”

“Humans gather coin and use that coin to make others do their work for them,” he said. “They pay people in order to have more time to do nothing.”

Yara burst out a laugh. “You know what, that’s true. I guess you’re right. But it’s not like that among my people,” she said. “The Dalish don’t have servants. We all pitch in to benefit the clan. We’re like the qunari in that way.”

“And yet you chose your role,” he pointed out. “You chose to be a hunter, for example, and not a wrangler of those… those creatures with the elaborate horns.”

“The halla,” she said with a smile.

Sten nodded an acknowledgement. “You chose to become a hunter.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “But my clan needed hunters. I was doing something that was needed.”

“But it was a role that you chose,” he said.

Ah, she thought. Now she knew what his problem was: that she had chosen her own role, and not some supposedly better-informed group of people in authority.

She tilted her head curiously. “Do you really think it was bad that I was a hunter just because I chose to be one instead of someone else choosing it for me?”

“It’s not a matter of good or bad,” Sten said. “It’s a matter of what is. You cannot choose what you are. The only choice is whether to comply with the nature of the world and your place in it. You understand who you are, or you defy your own nature. That is the only true choice.”

Yara gazed at him with a combination of fondness and exasperation. “But Sten, the Dalish don’t have tamassrans who tell us what to do.”

He leaned away and gave her an approving look. “You do understand the problem, then.”

Utterly nonplussed, Yara stared at him. Then she shook her head and chuckled. “Look, if you didn’t want to read to me, you could have just said so.”

Sten grunted. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t read to you. If you really wish to be treated like a particularly slow imekari, then I will treat you as one.”

She laughed. “You know what, I’ll bear that insult if it means you’ll read to me.”

He inspected her carefully. “Is this another attempt at flirting?”

She snorted another laugh, even as she could feel her cheeks going warm. “Maybe you should keep reading your romance novel and find out.”

Sten scowled. “I am not reading. I am studying.” He smoothed his palm over the page, and to Yara’s great delight, he began to read out loud. “Garren lifted his sculpted chin. ‘It is not a matter of if you will fall for me, my dear, but when. You will have only yourself to blame for the fall.’”

Yara smirked and crossed her legs comfortably on the bench, and for a peaceful time, she listened to Sten’s reading and scratched a very happy Fen’ain behind the ears.

The afternoon wore on into the evening, and Yara accepted the captain’s invitation to join the crew during the evening meal. She played cards with some of the crew after dinner, and she quietly enjoyed the raucous banter of the sailors as they cursed and laughed at each other over their exchange of coin. But her attention kept drifting to Sten, who had taken his meal alone on the forecastle deck and remained there alone with only Fen’ain for company.

Later that evening, she returned to sit with him once more while he was sharpening and polishing his sword. He glanced up and nodded when she approached but he didn’t speak, so Yara nodded silently in turn before sitting on the bench and crossing her legs.

She gazed idly at the gradually darkening sky and breathed in the fresh and salty ocean air. Then, to her mild surprise, Sten broke the silence. “I did not think to ask before. Why did you decide to join me?”

Yara smiled wryly. Everyone else had asked her this, and she supposed it was only fair that the man she was following across the Amaranthine Ocean wanted to know why exactly she was doing it. But her answer for Sten was the same as the one she’d given to Alistair, Oghren and Zevran.

“I don’t know,” she said.

He studied her intently for a moment, then went back to polishing his blade. “This is unheard of, kadan. Qunari always know their purpose.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m not qunari.”

“That is true,” he said. He fell silent, and Yara waited for him to say something more. When he didn’t, she shifted a little closer to him.

“I’m surprised you don’t have more to say about it,” she said.

He glanced at her. “What more is there to say?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Something about my purpose being to kill the archdemon, maybe?”

He frowned slightly. “That was not your purpose. That was your mission. You fulfilled your mission, but that is not the same as fulfilling your purpose.”

Yara tilted her head curiously. “What do you mean?”

He lowered his blade to look at her. “I am the eyes and ears of the antaam,” he said. “That is my purpose. At this moment, I am carrying intelligence back to the Arishok, and that is my mission. What little intelligence that I was able to find, at least.”

Yara snorted. “That was needlessly rude.”

“And yet you laugh,” he said.

She grinned at him. “I didn’t say it wasn’t funny.”

“Hm,” he said, and Yara grinned at him more widely: there was a hint of a crinkle at the corners of his eyes.

But his next words took the smile from her face. “You lack purpose, kadan. This does not surprise me. You are a Grey Warden, yet you know little of your own order. You do not know yourself, or what you are for. It was cruel of your people to leave you this way.”

She blinked at him, a little taken aback by the bluntness of his statement. “I don’t – I wouldn’t say it was cruel,” she said. “Duncan would definitely have told us more about the Wardens if he had survived the massacre at Ostagar.”

“Yet you entered into your order not knowing that it was a death sentence,” Sten said. “Not knowing that it would bring you restless dreams, or that it would render you sterile.”

Yara stopped breathing for a second. Sten didn’t mean to be cruel, she knew, but the truths he was reminding her of… those were cruel, and she didn’t want to think about it.

She dropped his gaze. “I… no, I guess not.” She shifted on the bench and wrapped her arms around her knees.

Apparently oblivious to her dismay, Sten was still talking. “The tamassrans see that all qunari know themselves,” he said. “I became a soldier of the antaam knowing that I would perish in battle someday. The fact that I have not yet means only that I have more years to devote to my purpose.”

“And you’re just… fine with that?” she said weakly.

“It is to be,” Sten said. “It is the way of things. It is not a matter of being ‘fine with it’. It simply is.”

Yara sighed heavily and rested her chin on her knees. “It must be nice to have all the answers,” she said softly.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he replied. “Only those that I need to fulfill my purpose.”

Yara nodded and swallowed the growing lump in her throat. Sten’s reminders about the most bitter parts of being a Warden were too close to home – too close to the bundle of pain she’d been pushing down since all of this had begun.

“I have upset you,” Sten said.

She looked up to find him still gazing carefully at her. She shook her head slightly. “No,” she said tentatively. “Not… not on purpose, at least. I…” She trailed off and pushed her fingers through her hair as she tried to collect her thoughts. “I just needed to… to think,” she said finally. “And to get away from being the Hero of Ferelden. I guess I was just… hoping to figure out what to do next. And you always know what you’re doing next, so I thought…” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what I thought.”

He nodded. “I understand,” he said. “You are seeking your purpose. I respect this. It is simply pitiable that you must figure this out for yourself.”

She recoiled from him, feeling stung by his words. “You think I’m pitiable?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said calmly. “All bas are pitiable, because they do not know the Qun. They are not enlightened, and they do not know themselves. One day my people will return, and they will not longer be pitiable.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Yara said in a hard tone. “And it matters to me what you think. Do you think I’m pitiable?”

He paused and gazed at her for a long moment: long enough that her irritation began to fade. “I do not think you are pitiable, kadan,” he said finally. “It would be easy to think you are running away. But I can see that you are seeking something to run toward.”

She let out a long sigh. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

He nodded and continued polishing his blade, and Yara watched him a little bit sadly. A minute later, he rose from the bench and sheathed the blade. “I will return in a moment,” he said, and he walked away.

Yara idly petted Fen’ain as she waited for Sten to return. When he came back, he was carrying the cake she’d given him.

He sat on the bench and set the cake between them, then carefully unwrapped it and cut two pieces from it – one considerably smaller than the other. He pushed the smaller piece toward her, and she smiled at him.

“You’re sharing after all?” she said.

He nodded. “I told you that I might.”

She chuckled and picked up her piece of cake. “You gave me the smaller piece, I see.”

“You are a smaller person,” he replied. “It is only fair.”

She chuckled, then took a bite of cake and chewed it experimentally. It was dense and moist from the applesauce, with just a hint of sour from the dried cranberries studded throughout, and Yara’s throat tightened at the familiar taste of home.

“It is very good,” Sten said. “Thank you again, kadan.”

His stern face was relaxed. When Yara met his eye, the corner of his mouth turned up in the faintest smile.

She smiled, then shyly dropped his gaze and tucked her hair over her ear. “Anytime, Sten.”

They sat together on the bow eating their cake and ignoring Fen’ain’s pleading stare. As the colourful canvas of sunset blended slowly into the dark and star-studded nighttime sky, Yara sat quietly next to Sten and listened to the hush of the ocean sluicing past the sides of the ship.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Despite the constant movement of the ship and the gentle fingers of wind pulling at her hair, she felt very still.

With Sten’s steady presence at her side, Yara felt so very still.

#sten #sten dragon age #sten/warden #sten x warden #sten/mahariel #sten x mahariel #fall into the tide #pikapeppa writes

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typewriterghcst · 4 years

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Title: A Very Small Wish Fandom: The Cat Returns Characters: Baron, Muta, Toto, Haru, plus some OCs Rating: PGish maybe?? Words: 2797 Summary: A pleading request from a parent whose daughter has been cursed by a resentful witch is nothing truly out of the ordinary for the Cat Bureau— in fact, it might be so common so as to be routine— so why does something feel inherently off about this particular one? Notes: Second chapter of six of a Secret Santa gift for @deedee-sunflowers. I had the realization that it actually takes a Bit for the witch part of this to show up, and I apologize for that orz That said, I'm so glad you liked it! Especially that they're all in character and that Vanya is interesting, aha. I worry a lot that he might be too grating, bc I definitely get a lot of enjoyment out of writing those kinds of characters, but I don't want them to also be irritating to sit through rip Anywho, a chapter in which Haru has a chat with a beloved monster i’m sorry that was a very vague shrek reference

Ch. 2: Virtuous Siree

She might be hesitant to admit it, but Haru is almost disappointed to meet the cursed daughter, having halfway convinced herself in her unshakable unnerved skepticism that the Vanya creature had crafted her existence wholesale from lies and nothingness. Yet here she is, standing before them with her hands (hands? it’s hard to tell) folded in a mannerly fashion in front of her. Her long, golden veil is in much better shape than her father’s handkerchief, though the odd snag and rip is perhaps inevitable when one is in possession of what appears to be a pair of curly horns.

She is otherwise far from inconspicuous, as well; the gauzy shroud masking her person still reveals the aforementioned horns, and a pointed snout, and little hands adorned with inch-long claws. A long, hairless tail snakes out from behind her, curling at her feet like a sleeping dog.

Perhaps the most pressing thing, however, is that the same uneasy chill runs through Haru within this strange, half-concealed child’s presence as it does when her father is around. For the first time, she wonders if it’s not, in fact, her blunted human instincts furiously trying to warn her of Vanya’s true nature and simply a facet of his kind’s existence.

Vanya wanders into her line of sight again, standing beside his daughter with a laughably manic, skittish energy and reaching for her clawed hand. Haru notes the two are very nearly the same height. Yet, to hers (and probably the Bureau’s surprise, as well), he appears to have little trouble lifting her off the ground and holding her out to them, as if he’d worried they wouldn’t understand just how truly monstrous she’d become should he not bring her closer to their eyelines.

“This is my daughter, Virtuous Siree.” He seems to take a certain, special glee in saying so. “She is exquisitely cute! Like a baby. I’ve had her for years now.”

Virtuous Siree, though her face is obscured by the veil, seems unbothered by this treatment, inclining her head politely to their guests.

“Pleased to meet you.” Her voice echoes much like a lonely call in an empty stairwell, resulting in the definitively disorienting effect of two separate people speaking in unison.

“...And you, as well.” Baron is the first to recover from the oddness of the situation, removing his hat and bowing, and the rest of them follow suit shortly after (sans Muta, anyway, who gives a more characteristically terse greeting).

“Thank you, by the way,” Virtuous Siree then continues, as casually blithe as her father. “For taking the case. We are beyond aromatized to have obtained your assistance!”

Behind her, Vanya utters a noise somewhere between a squeal and a sob, and then hugs her close to him. “Cute! She’s too cute! Virtuous Siree, did you have a good day today?”

“Yes, Papa, I worked in the garden. The cherries are ripening on the vine! And I started a new painting when I was done.”

“Your funny prickly face horns are sticking me through my fur!” Yet, he appears to make no motions to pull away. (Haru sneaks an amused look at Muta; sure enough, the mystified frown on his own face makes it clear he’s as lost about how to feel about this interaction as she’d expected him to be.)

“How far of a journey is the Sown Forest from here, Vanya?”

The fox glances at Toto only from the very corners of his eyes at first, but the expression lacks even the most minuscule hint of suspicion. He pulls his face away from Virtuous Siree’s veiled one, placing her back on the ground with a happy coo.

“I can’t tell you how far, but it will take….” Here he counts futilely on his tiny paws again. “...eighteen-twenty minutes!”

“...You mean, eighteen to twenty minutes?”

Vanya hesitates, and here, now, it becomes obvious he’s beginning to pick up on Toto’s skepticism. When he answers this time, he’s back to his by now expected plaintive offense.

“Time works differently in Oostal! I’m only a little creature from Oostal, and I don’t know your Earthical time measurements!” He cries.

“Papa’s trying his best,” Virtuous Siree interjects with the modest passion one might expect from a shy girl her age, patting her father on the paw.

“To focus on the pretty Vanya Creature’s tenuous grasp of a time he’s never used before when his cute daughter is at risk of being cursed forever!”

“Yeah, birdbrain, that’s real heartless of ya,” Muta can’t help but add (a marked testament to how much he enjoys antagonizing the crow, if even his antipathy for the Vanya creature doesn’t see him pass up the opportunity.)

“But if time works differently, how are we meant to keep track of how long we have?” Toto asks, side-eyeing Muta with no small degree of smug amusement. (For his part, Muta seems uncertain whether to take this abrupt subject change as a surrender or a snub.)

“Use a pocket watch,” is Vanya’s dismissive reply.

Baron finds himself rather suddenly the object of vested interest for three pairs of eyes; Muta, Haru, and Toto all three almost instantly turn to him. He looks from each one to the other in moderate bemusement for mere seconds before his shoulders relax in a subtle show of resignation.

“Yes, I have one with me.”

“Wouldn’t have been you if you didn’t,” Toto teases with a smile.

“Of course,” Baron deigns to play along with a faintly put-upon tone.

“Where’s that witchy paper you said you got, anyway?” Muta asks Vanya. “The one that says it’s okay for you to get help from strangers. Don’t think I forgot about it,” he ends with crabbily.

“I left it on the table!” Vanya replies with a matching huff, less than humored by Muta’s skepticism.

Here Virtuous Siree jumps to contribute, expression molded into a contrite, abashed frown, “Oh, no— Papa, those papers got blown away earlier today! I-I opened the door to go out into the garden, and a bigly strong gust blew in!”

“Seriously—?”

“They blew up into the surrounding trees,” Virtuous Siree continues, more chastened than before in the face of Muta’s apparent exasperation, a reaction which seems to give the cat some considerable pause. “I couldn’t reach them.”

Vanya pats her head.

“It’s no significant loss that they did! We can search for them when I go to pick up the leg up in our sleeves.”

The perplexed silence which settles after Vanya’s words lingers heavily, but at least only briefly.

“Oh,” Toto first responds with a dawning amusement and the slightest of laughs. “You have something in mind to help make these tasks less of a struggle.”

Vanya nods enthusiastically, giving no indication of having discerned their earlier confusion, nor why Toto then felt the need to clarify. His tail, also, curls into an excitable question mark shape before relaxing again.

“It will take just a moment— I hid it in the root cellar with the other cates.”

“And the root cellar is—?”

“At the edge of the property, by the fence.”

“Very well. It shouldn’t take us long, I think, but we ought to depart right away. Please lead the way, Mr. Vanya.”

“I’ll stay here,” Haru speaks up. “I’d feel a little bad leaving Virtuous Siree all alone again, even if it is just a few minutes— I don’t mind keeping her company. I mean—” Here she turns to the girl herself with a sheepish expression, hands folded bashfully behind her back. “ —if she doesn’t mind my company, of course.”

“I don’t mind!” Virtuous Siree responds with a resolute shake of her head.

“Good, goods!” Vanya agrees in delight. There’s yet another almost cat-like expression of affection from him, rubbing his cheek against Siree’s as he swings their joined hands. “Play nice, Cute Siree. We’ll be back before you know it!”

&&&

The little house in which Vanya and Virtuous Siree have made their home is in all honesty not all that strange to Haru. At least, in the sense that it has walls and doors and windows, and furniture with purposes that are easy enough to grasp upon laying eyes on them. Yet two things still stand out to her as unusual.

The first is that the walls, if not the house entirely, give the rather distinct impression that the entire thing had been carved from an enormous gourd or another hardy vegetable of sorts. When Haru furtively lays a hand on one of the few unoccupied walls, she finds she can’t discern the material by sight or touch.

The outside of the house hadn’t struck her as so outlandish. It certainly hadn’t appeared to be a massive vegetable.

The second, as previously alluded to, is that almost every available surface is buried beneath an arbitrary variety of countless objects— threadbare coats, rusted silverware, broken trinkets.

Distantly, Haru recalls Vanya’s pithy words regarding his shattered teacup— waste not. Seems he kept that particular aphorism close to his heart.

Vanya’s daughter has claimed a spot at the round table in the middle of the room, perched precariously on a wobbly stool with a set of messy watercolor paints and a well-worn brush.

Her face is still hidden, but Haru can still tell her companion (Virtuous Siree, as her father has stubbornly referred to her, and it’s still a terribly odd name to Haru) is shyly stealing glances at her, one after the other, before quickly looking away again, back to her painting.

“Can I draw something, too?” Haru eventually asks to divert the tension.

Virtuous Siree jumps on the distraction. “Oh, yes! You can! Papa always keeps plenty of paper and paints around for me!”

The girl jumps off her stool and scurries to a cabinet across the room, behind a pile of ostensible scarves and socks (the cabinet itself also piled high with an unimaginably diverse array of items— hairbrushes, hats, and tattered books, just to name a few.) In a snap, Virtuous Siree has an identical spot to her own set up at the table beside her for Haru.

“Here you are! Would you like a flat or a round brush..?”

Haru, having never been much a painter, finds herself somewhat stumped at the question, glancing back and forth between the two brushes for a half-minute before sheepishly speaking up. “Actually, this is silly, but do you have anything more fit for an amateur? I don’t do much drawing, and I’d hate to waste some of your good materials.”

Virtuous Siree laughs, a short, girlish noise that quite comically clashes with her unnatural-sounding voice, and waves her hand. “Don’t be silly, I have plenty of materials. You can’t waste them if you used them to do something fun.”

“O-Oh… Well, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“If you want to start slow, though, hmm…” Virtuous Siree scampers across the room again, stooping to look in her cabinet; Haru hears her shuffle various objects around as she searches for something specific. “Oh! I have some wax crayons. They’re a little used, though.”

“Oh, that’s okay. They’ll be perfect.”

It’s when Haru is settled again, this time staring down at a sheaf of brown, grainy papers— thick, heavy, with a distinct weave to the tiny fibers that must make up the sheets— that she finds herself beset by another stumbling block. She hasn’t drawn anything since she was a child, and those childish scribbles had consisted mostly of attempts at whatever animals had caught her eye.

Absently, she wonders if her skills have managed to budge past their old level. Probably not. But, there’s no time like the present to find out, she supposes. She’ll try drawing Baron.

“What does the name Virtuous Siree mean?”

Virtuous Siree gives a pensive noise. “You don’t have to call me Virtuous Siree. Just Siree is fine. Only Papa calls me Virtuous Siree-- he added the first part a little while ago.”

“Okay, Siree, then. If you like, you can call me just Haru.”

“I’ll do that!” Then, remembering what Haru’s original question was, she adds diffidently, “‘Siree’ is just a filler word in Oostal’s language, but it has a-- umm, an implication of emphasis. It’s what you use to boost the feelings in what you’re trying to get across when you can’t remember a word.”

Haru pauses in her attempt to color in one of Baron’s eyes. “Does that mean your name with the addition of ‘Virtuous’ is kind of like saying ‘really virtuous?’”

“It is!” Siree admits with an almost embarrassed laugh. “Papa’s very silly sometimes.”

To herself, Haru thinks that sounds like yet another vast understatement.

“...Have you ever dealt with witch’s magic before?” Virtuous Siree asks.

“Not…. witch’s magic, no. At least, I don’t think so. But I was transformed into a cat once,” Haru says, carefully drawing a spiral on her paper with a yellow crayon (her interpretation of the sun. It won’t do to put crayon scribble Baron into a rainy, sad environment, after all).

“What’s a cat?” Siree asks.

“Oh— um. It’s an… an animal from my world. They look a little like your father, but a little bigger. Oh! Actually, Muta and Baron-- well, Muta is a cat, but Baron just looks like one.” Then, abruptly remembering Siree has been cursed and must therefore look quite similar to her father under normal circumstances, Haru hastily adds, “I-I guess they’d look like you, too, wouldn’t they?”

Siree nods slightly, even though she hasn’t looked away from her own painting. When she speaks, her voice is soft, shy again.

“They're cute. I wish I could be cute, too, like Papa. Or, um, like I was.”

Somewhere, that gentle, beseeching string of words tugs at an old fear, one that had been allayed rather completely with the return to her normal form but not altogether forgotten— that of losing her familiar reflection. What was on the inside ultimately wouldn’t have changed, and there had always been little flaws in her human appearance she could have spent hours complaining about, but… in the end, her face, her humanness, had been held more dear by her than she could ever have realized without being transformed against her will.

“Don’t worry,” Haru finds herself saying. “Baron and the Bureau managed to rescue me from becoming a cat. They’ll do the same for you, no problem. You just wait. You’ll be your old self in no time.”

Siree’s brushstrokes slow and then stop altogether. She moves so that Haru knows she must be studying her thoughtfully, and the very knowledge of Siree’s no doubt unblinking, pensive gaze trained intently on her is enough to give her goosebumps again.

“...You’re very kind,” the girl eventually remarks. Then, finally looking away (Haru’s pretty sure, at least), she adds, “I like that. I hope you make it out safe.”

“I have the Bureau,” Haru says surely. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I hope they stay safe, too,” Siree adds.

As if wise to the fact they’d been the subject of the past few moments of conversation, the Bureau (accompanied, of course, by Vanya) arrive just seconds after with the familiar sound of the beginnings of an altercation between Muta and Toto. Vanya again wastes little time in hugging Siree.

“You’re back,” Haru says in the meantime. “Are we good to go now, then?”

“Yeah,” Muta breaks off his disagreement with Toto to answer with a shrug. “Whatever the pipsqueak picked up, it didn’t take long.”

“It’s a surprise!” Vanya protests, turning a haughty gaze upon Muta. Then, thoughtfully, he amends, “...A good surprise.”

Haru, thinking of Vanya’s original haste in returning to his daughter, and seeing perhaps the same veiled concern in Baron’s and Toto’s faces, nudges the avian Creation beside her, and… well, bless him, Toto takes very little time to speak up for them all.

“Will Virtuous Siree be alright here all by herself?”

Vanya rocks back and forth a few times, dragging poor Siree with him (though she seems unbothered, at least). “Yes, yes, Virtuous Siree is safe here. There are neighbors! ...In fact, if she feels scared, she should go next door to Mr. Gleb.” This spoken directly to Siree, despite the odd choice in phrasing.

“I will, Papa,” Siree answers without hesitation.

It’s here that Vanya lets her go with one last delighted chirrup, bounding over to the door and the Bureau and darting outside. Before following suit (...somewhat), Haru turns back to the girl and flashes her a reassuring smile.

“Bye, Siree! Stay safe, and don’t worry— we’ll get you all fixed up.”

“I know you will!”

As far as Haru can tell, Siree continues waving until they can’t see each other, and something about the dedication instills a certain amount of similar sentiments in Haru.

#the cat returns #secret santa

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fanficsforpogchamps · 6 years

Text

|| Drunk Lil’ Miss || Escanor

WARNING: Drinking and Drunk confessions! Loads and Loads of fluff! :))) And this will be a female reader- for the sake of my own writing whoops.

Request- Nyello I am here to support you!! M-May I pweasy have some fluff with an ESCANOR dealing with a drunk lil lass (me) confessing to him- I'm excited to see what you have, cutie UwO So this is for @bnhaworld for the absolutely lovely request, enjoy doll!

NOTES- I got kinda confused when you said Escanor because I had a full on mind fart and forgot SDS existed but here!

When the drinks were served you knew you would be out cold. Your short body being highly contagious to the sweet Ale that passed your glossy lips, and you couldn’t help but wave Escanor over for some more. One Drink, Two Drink, Three Drink, Four... By the time Meliodas and Ban were on their eighth drink you was on your sixth and felt the notch from tipsy suddenly drop to drunk. And oh god was a drunk you a regrettable you since your sober self knew you would probably do something you would despise yourself for in the morning. Meliodas and Ban were slamming drinks as quickly as they arrived, and you began to slow down when you hit the bottom of your seventh, your cheeks plastered pink and your head warm and fuzzy. (E/C) eyes found their way over to Escanor who was stood at the bar cleaning different mugs with a rag. His ginger moustache looking oddly soft in the moonlight and warm glow of the candles lit inside the Tavern tonight was the first thing that came to your mind when you had investigated further.

You had been with Escanor for many months as a waitress before Ban, Elaine and Jericho burst through the bar doors- the ginger sin being very timid in his skinny form and unwilling to hire you at first, however with a few more days of you staying with him and the two of you getting to know each other, he finally caved in and allowed you to help. Contrary to his beliefs you helped gather some customers that wandered through the ravine to get to the other side with enticing words and supportive gestures. Escanor had grown to having you around now and was quite fond of you despite the undying love he still felt for Merlin, and so when Galand of Truth and Melascula of Faith arrived the Lion Sin of Pride was nervous on having you see him transform.

But that never mattered. None of It did. Beforehand, you already knew of his sin and the fact that he was Escanor, The Lion Sin of Pride seeing as it was kind of obvious from the posters and that unforgettable moustache. His transformation to his midday form make you swoon only further, his tall and masculine body making your own body hot and feverish with the ideas of him holding you close and protecting you with those muscles and Rhitta.

Tug Tug, Tug Tug … … … Tug-

“U-Uhm, excuse me b-but, what might you be doing?” Came the soft voice of Escanor, his eyes trained on his waitress who was currently gently tugging on his moustache. Her fingers were delicately going through the hair, making sure not to pull too hard. “Your- Your moustache looks soooo cuuuuute!” She hiccupped, her short height not helping with the fact that she needed to stand on a stool and lean over the bar on the ball of her left hand while the right went through and touched his moustache. The Ginger felt his cheeks flush an embarrassing red but instead of turning away and telling her to stop- he let her continue, the contact nice and seeing how she gazed at him made his heart flutter and stomach do flips. “I mean you’re just cute in general! You’re so amaaaazing and stroooong! I just want your super duper buff form to hold me close while this form to cuddle me and take care of meeee,” You rant, eyes half-lidded as you practically confessed your love, fingers moving from his moustache to his shirt while Escanor placed the mug and rag in exchange for your side and shoulder. He was nervous that you would fall and hurt yourself. The blue eyed sin twisted his focus on Ban and Meliodas who where currently doing more drinks than any known man could handle, and then he turned his gaze on Diane and King while the two were comfortably snuggling on Kings Chastiefol pillow. Merlin and Gowther were nowhere to be seen while Elizabeth was running back and forth to try and contain the two lads at the table which in turn left Escanor alone to deal with drunk you.

With one hand the Sin pulled you over the counter top, immediately looped an arm under your knees while his hand slipped from your shoulder to around your midsection. He hoisted you up, as if you were nothing- because to him you practically was, your short height helping to that- and began to trek to his room where he would then proceed to take care of you, seeing as his room was closer. “Escanooooor!” A whine emitted from your throat, hands wrapped around his chest while you buried your face into his chest. The ginger nervously hummed, the pressure of your cheek on his chest did nothing but increase his heart rate from how close the two of you were. “I- I think I love you,”

Those words made him stop in his tracks, the door to his room half open as he stood in the doorway. Was it just the intoxicated you talking? Or was it a sober version of you coming through suddenly? Either way those five words created a fire in his belly that warmed him physically and mentally. Did- did he love you too? That was the question, and so he took a gaze down at your face. The way your eyes were closed and your long lashed pressed against your cheeks while your lips were pushed into a slight pout confirmed it for him. No matter whether you was asleep or awake, you never failed to make his heart soar even if it was from soft touches to loving gazes from across a room. You looked as precious as you was to him.

“I-I think I love you too, now let’s get you cleaned up shall we? You can sleep in my room tonight,” “YEAAAAH!”

#escanor #escanor x reader #ILoveBNHAWorldandthatsafact #welldamnididthisin50minutes #myneckhurts #everything hurts #fLUFFFFF #So much fluff

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rosemerriam · 5 years

Text

Dreamer’s Tale

Summary: I had a very interesting dream with my crush and I felt overcome with the need to write it all down before I forgot anything. Here is a story inspired by that dream. It's very strange and very out of character for me as a person. I replaced my name with another one. I am a violinist like the main character of this story. It’s a little bit horror with the smallest hint of romance. It may read like a bad crack fic because most of the “comedy” moments come directly from my dream.

Artist: Yuta from NCT

Words: Almost 2.4 k

“Okay! Start again from the top!” Ms. Melisma counted us in. The First Violins began the intro. I moved away from Jeno whose exaggerated movements were about to knock me off of my own seat. The Cellos came in next with the Bass, playing a harmonic drone. The Violas began with their part, acting as a metronome, keeping us all in time. Finally, the Second Violins played the countermelody. The Firsts and Seconds played off of one another. One section would play a part and rest. The other section would reply with another part and rest. Measure 35 came when the bell rang. All the freshman jumped up to pack up their instruments. The upperclassman followed after the enthusiastic freshman.

Jeno and I walked over to our violin cases.

“How do you think rehearsal went today?”

Jeno turned to me as he put his bow away. “Oh well, it went great! I gotta say, my dynamics are superior to everyone else.”

“Yes, yes, your fortes are loud as well as your pianos, which are supposed to be soft,” I said. “Jeno, you need to quit moving so much. Some movement is fine but holy shit, I thought you were going to knock me over.”

He patted my head as I glared at him. “Aw, poor Li Na,” he began to squish my cheeks.

“I’m gonna kill you in your sleep one day and take the first chair title away from you.” We walked over to put away violins away in our locker on the violin and viola side of the room.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he patted my head once again. “Okay, I’m off. I’m gonna go to McDonald's.”

“Don’t you have chemistry next?” My eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Yeah, I do.”

“So…”

“Listen, Mr. Anoo has been pissing me off lately.”

“Is this because of the 89 he gave you on your last quiz?”

“It should have been a 90!”

“Whatever,” I threw my hands up in surrender. “Don’t be stupid and get caught.”

“Me? Stupid? Li Na, please.”

I rolled my eyes as Jeno walked out of the classroom. I felt my stomach ache, begging for food. My phone said that it was only 10:23, three hours until I could eat lunch. I walked over to Ms. Melisma.

“Hey, Ms. Melisma?” I asked with puppy eyes.

“Yes, Li Na?”

“Could I have some candy? I feel really drained from today’s rehearsal.”

“I would let you but you have approximately one and a half minutes to get to your next class and Yuta is waiting for you.”

I turn around to see Yuta, the section leader for the Cellos and also my Calculus classmate, standing by the door. I let out a sigh and walk over.

“Yuta?” I looked up at the tall boy. Well, to be fair, almost everyone was taller than me.

“Li Na?” he answered back in a joking, mocking tone.

“Do you have any candy?”

“Yep!” he held out his hand which was full of Starbursts from Ms. Melisma’s office.

“Ahh, can I have a pink one?” My hands hold onto Yuta’s arm, begging.

He snatched his hand away from me. “Nope! I’m saving the pink ones for my sisters.”

“Whatever,” I pouted. “Wait, how’d you even get these?”

“Oh, I have a copy of Ms. Melisma’s keys.”

My head snaps up to look at the tall boy with extreme confusion. I decide not to question it. “Whatever, just let me into her office so I can get my own candy since you don’t want to share.”

“Sure, if you can reach any of the jars,” he said as he was opening her door. I walk in and grab Ms. Melisma’s step stool. Of course, since Ms. Melisma was also short, she was going to have some type of tool to reach her tall shelves. We left the room and head out to the courtyard. The courtyard was where students cut through the large circular school. I’m about to walk on the West Bridge when Yuta stops me.

“Hey, let’s go through the cafeteria today.”

I pause in thought. “Hm, okay, sure!”

He smiled like how he always does when he gets his way. We walk down the stairs of the courtyard and make our way to the cafeteria door. I’m about to go through another stairway when Yuta stops me again.

“Hold on, let’s get some food.” I look around the cafeteria. There weren’t any students or guards and the lunch ladies were busy getting all the food ready. I check my phone’s clock. We were already late for class. Though our teacher was lenient on me, the same couldn't be said for a certain stubborn boy. But then my stomach growled at the scent of all the mediocre food cooking around us. Maybe calculus could wait until tomorrow.

Yuta grinned. “So I take it, that’s a yes?”

“Fine. But I’m not sharing any of my tater tots with you,” I humphed, grabbing a nearby serving of tater tots.

“That’s fine by me as long as you don’t rat me out for stealing a school lunch tray.”

“Wait, what?” I turn to see Yuta shoving a tray into his book bag, a chaotic glint in his eyes. He begins eating a hot dog when I said, “What possible reason could there be for you to want a school lunch tray?”

“I felt like it,” he shrugged.

I shook my head, muttering something about how weird he is as we walked around the basement. We make our way to a stairwell where I tried to jump to touch the top of the doorway. I failed . Yuta laughed at my failure, put on a poker face, and touched the top of the doorway with no effort. I huffed at my sore defeat.

“Not fair! It’s not my fault I’m so short,” I sat down on the stairs, beginning to eat my tater tots.

Yuta sat one step below me, his long legs laid across the stair.

“‘Not fair’?” he joked. “Well, you should have thought of that before you became so short!”

I scoffed. “You say that like I became short on purpose.” I sat up taller. “Look at us right now. I’m finally about your height and we’re on different steps with different sitting positions. Look at you, you’re slouching whereas I’m sitting up straight.” We both laughed and ate our food.

"What are you two doing?"

I looked up to see one of the school's priests.

"Uh..." Yuta said, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion. "Father Teddy, I can explain, you see--"

"You're skipping class again, aren't you?"

"Well--"

"And to think, you've dragged Li Na into this mess as well."

"Well actually--" I attempt to defend Yuta but get cut off.

"Both of you, my office. Now." Father Teddy turned around, leaving us to follow after him.

Father Teddy always gave me the creeps. Given the choice, I'd take my chances with unpredictable Yuta. I clung onto Yuta's arm as we walked up to the stairs and into the hallway towards Father Teddy's office. The hallway held two offices, Father Teddy's and Father Murphy's. Both had windows and doors opposite of the other. The left side of the hallway was Father Teddy's office and the right side Father Murphy's.

As Father Teddy opened his office door, I could hear a very familiar movie playing. His office was a standard one with a tv on the ceiling that was always playing some cheesy, religious movie. This time the movie was The Sound of Music. The office wasn't empty this time either. Inside was Jeno who was sound asleep.

Yuta and I say nothing when we sat down next to Jeno. Father Teddy took a seat across from us, his hands intertwined, as if he was about to pray, on his desk. He hands me and Yuta paper cups with some tea in it. I drink the tea, grateful for something to do. Anything would be better than talking to adults with authority.

Father Teddy opened his mouth, but for some reason, I was completely unable to understand him. Noise came out of his mouth that felt like words but none of which I could comprehend. It was clear that the priest was talking to me, or at least, trying to. His eyebrows scrunched together in frustration.

"Li Na, are you okay? What were you doing out of class? Li Na!"

Father Teddy's words finally made some sense to me.

"Yes, Father Teddy?"

"Are you alright? Are you unable to recall things?"

I looked at him. What on earth could have caused him to jump to that conclusion?

He seemed to have misinterpreted my confusion. He then asked, "Li Na, do you remember anything you did last night?"

Finally, a question that wasn't dumb and one I could actually understand.

"Yes. I did my nightly skincare routine after brushing my teeth. Then I drank some water and went to bed."

"'Skincare routine,'" he repeated with a condescending tone. "I could never understand how teenage girls do such unnecessary things every single day. You do such frivolous tasks but not pray?"

Now it was my turn to get frustrated.

"Father Teddy. It is not unnecessary to want to take care of yourself. I am a firm believer in how I appear to others will impact the way they treat me."

"I see." Father Teddy stood up from his chair and stormed out of the room.

The room was dead silent except for the quiet singing of Julie Andrews in the background.

I turned to Yuta. "Yuta, what are we doing here? He's going to keep asking me questions. I don't live in the best household but I rather not get separated from my siblings. We have to get out of here."

We both glanced at the window. Father Teddy was talking to Father Murphy in the hallway. Father Murphy was known as a strict priest who hated children. Rumors spread about how he "talked to" students, each rumor scarier than the last.

"You're right. Come on, let's get out of here." Yuta agreed.

"Jeno, Jeno." I walked over to Jeno to wake him up.

"Huh? Li Na? When did you get here? Ha, I ended up getting caught but Father Teddy was real nice about it and gave me this tea. It's funny, I don't even know if it really was tea. My man's could have drugged me for all I know."

"Jeno, you're talking a lot right now," I said, exasperated. " Yuta and I are going. Come with us."

"Oh shit, that sounds fun! Okay, bet."

We ran out of the office. I could hear over my pants the priests calling security guards. We barely made it to one of the school entrances when staff began to chase after us. Jeno and I follow after Yuta into the parking lot.

"Damn it, Yuta! Why did you park your car so damn far?" Jeno shouted to the boy.

"I need to get my steps in!" He shouted back.

"You don't even have a step tracker, what the hell are you talking about?" I said, breathless. It's a lot of work trying to keep up with the two, not to mention, the growing number of guards chasing after us.

"Li Na, get on my back. Your legs are too slow," Jeno slowed his pace enough for me to jump onto his back.

We finally see Yuta's old, red pick up truck and get in. Security yelled at us to get out of the vehicle but Yuta is set on his goal to get the hell away from school property. Tires screeched as we zoom our way out of the parking lot and into the road.

I spot a case of water bottles on the ground and hand one to Jeno. Then I grabbed two more and climbed into the passenger seat. I nearly finished half of the water bottle. My body made it very clear that I was exhausted from being chased by athletic adults. The three of us sat in silence before Yuta confessed, "I needed to get out of there. I've done some shit. I've killed people. You know the lake in the city next to us? Nine bodies. You know the creek in the city next to that one? Another body."

My eyes blinked heavily. Memories of Jeno's words came back as my head nodded off into a daze. I wasn't quite falling asleep. My body was still full of adrenaline. But even still, the tea's effects began to kick in. I opt to stare out the window. Trees and familiar buildings pass by. The familiar buildings faded to less familiar ones to fields of green.

Yuta slowed the truck down to a stop in front of a hill.

"C'mon, I need to stretch my legs."

"But what about Je--oh." I had turned around only to find Jeno snoring in the back seat.

We climbed the hills and stopped, watching the sunset. I laid on my belly next to Yuta who sat with his legs out, leaning his hands on the ground.

"Li Na, do you like me?"

"Huh?" I sat up at his sudden question. "Like as in a crush or in general?"

He shrugged.

"Yeah, I do."

The sun was bleeding orange.

"Why?"

The clouds cried tears of pink that faded to purple the farther away from the sun they got.

"Well to state the obvious, you're cute. But there's something about your playing. The way you play the cello is so beautiful. It's like when you recall a nostalgic memory. Your expression is so full of melancholy."

Everything was golden but the sky wept in red.

"I see."

The sun had finally set and the moon helped guide us back to the truck. Jeno was awake and drove instead. I wasn't sure where we were going but it didn't matter anymore. Yuta sat in the back. Exhaustion finally hit both of us. Jeno turned the radio on to give him company while we faded away.

"Reports of missing teens thought to be highly dangerous...two males and one female...both tall...short...warning that they are most likely armed...please call..."

Most were lies but it didn't matter anymore. We all fade away.

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writings-and-ideas · 5 years

Text

Curiosity

After a week full of turmoil and stress, Dan found himself surrounded by mutual friends. He came to this house party in hopes to end the week on a high note. A murky conversation with a romantic, or rather a potential romantic, interest put the beginning of his week on a shaky note. Followed by a flat tire on his day off. A flat which he could not afford to replace, added to the laundry list of trouble that would follow him through the rest of the week. Barrowing money he was, luckily, able to replace the tire. That same evening after returning to the discount tire repair business to retrieve his car, he decided performing might turn this week around. Inviting some friends out to the occasion boosted his resolve to show up and perform, rather than flaking, like he would do most weeks. The previous few endeavors into his joke telling’s went well enough, so why not invite some friends out to finally see him perform. Dan immediately regretted the decision, when during the host’s introduction to the show the crowd was unfavorable and rowdy. The show went on with each comedian either completely bombing or parading about the stage describing just how awful show was going. Dan waited, having panic attacks through each set until his turn was up.

The open mic he frequented was at a dive bar. He sat a few short feet from the mic stand. The stage- if it can be called that, was more of a space the establishment had cleared to allow a microphone stand to be viewable from most tables. Dan sat at the bar in an emerald cushioned high stool maybe six feet from the mic. Each time the host would return to the stand, Dan found himself hoping, desperately, that somehow his time would be cut. That the host would’ve forgotten about him. As more comedians flailed about, Dan found himself staring down the short hallway to the exit. Perfectly placed across the room from his seat. I could just leave. Say I had something important to handle. Dan planned his escape as the host handed over the microphone to a man, who would break two tables in his unsuccessful attempt at stimulating the room. The room, by this point in the evening, was only occupied by those who stayed by some sense of respectful obligation to the event. Individuals, like the very friends Dan had invited to this travesty. I’m going to run. Dan thought to himself, but just as he gathered what courage he could the host began walking directly towards him. His heart pounded with each step the host took. She was, all at once, upon him. “Bet you thought I forgot about you, huh?”, She said to him with a smile. She looked at him through thick glasses and spoke with a raspy voice. The voice you get the day you recover from a sore throat, or the voice of someone in dire need of a cough drop. She reassured Dan that she did not forget about him, as he hoped. She then informed him in an upbeat tone, that he had the pleasure of closing tonight’s show out.

He could not for the life of him tell how he did. He made no note of the jokes that did well or failed to hit their marks. He was in utter shock and was in fight or flight mode. The option of flight was gone the second his name was introduced. His pride would’ve never allowed him to flee. This was his Tuesday night, and the tone of that night would carry though out the rest of his week. Failed romance Sunday, a flat tire Tuesday, a dentist appointment Thursday- I must floss, and Friday at work he ruined his favorite shirt. The ruining of his shirt seemed little consequence, but it was at work; rushing to help a customer who ended up belittling him. As for Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday; Dan worked his menial and life draining retail job. Each hour spent at work felt like an hour wasted to Dan. He would often find a blind spot in the security system’s cameras and read novels or write until the door chime heralded another customer to greet. By Saturday night’s shift Dan was looking forward to the end of the week and had been invited to a friend’s house party. Once free he raced down empty streets and under broken streetlights, through the young night. Onward to some chemical and social relief from the hell that had been his week. He drove fast, slowing only for the wolves that lay in wait on Saturday nights to fill their quotas. He prided himself in his own ability to spot them waiting, to catch the glimmer of their crimson and sapphire lights dormant under empty parking lots and lurking in side roads. He arrived at his location unimpeded. He parked three houses down. The number of cars lining the street were his oracles for the night to come.

He approached the house with a confidence he had not felt in a long time. He opened the screen door. Something that shocked himself. Usually he would ring the bell or wait to be greeted by his host. Like a vampire he would always wait to be welcomed in, but the week had worn his manners down, and besides the host had offered him a room in their house twice now. This place is as much as my home now anyways. He turned both offers down. He strolled into the party seeking out the host immediately. Greeting her with a smile, a hug, a lighthearted joke, and two bags of single serve trail mix he picked up last minute. He always had to contribute. Once the small catching up was done, Dan made his usual rounds. Before eating, grabbing a drink, or partaking in any narcotic activities he would make the effort to make his presence known to each room. Through the den, into the kitchen, poking his head into the garage- full of younger adults than himself, eventually back through the entire first floor of the house to the living room. He found there a good friend already well into the drinking Dan wished to be apart of. Dan’s friend wasted no time fulfilling that wish. Before Dan knew it, he was unaware of how he found himself now, sitting in the den. The room was lit only by a lamp that cycled through red, blue, green, purple, orange- repeat. He had in his hand a drink. What was in said drink and who had given it to him was a blur. He did remember spending some time in the garage, but it was stuffy, hot, crowded and full of smoke. He stayed to entertain the inhabitants for a time. In exchange they gifted him several pulls from, what Dan guessed, was a joint. Dan had quit smoking, but never wanted to be rude, so he held the joint and waited to pass it with out taking any part of it. After he felt he could escape the scene, to avoid partaking in old habits, he did so. Now he sat sipping from his drink, Pineapple- no this is mostly just gin. He was seated in a high black wooden chair, found near the corner of the den right in front of a lamp that was his sole source of light bathing everything in colors. The amp behind him was also the sole source of music for the evening, to the right of his seat was a sliding glass door leading to the backyard where he could refill his lungs with fresh air. The amp was currently connected to someone’s phone and playing some lo-fi synthetic music. Dan never considers himself a dancer, but in the moment, he couldn’t help but to bob and sway to the rhythm of the music. “Can I ask you a question?”, the girl was in his space. She entered it with out him even noticing. He turned his head to meet he eyes. She was one of the younger women attending the event. Dan considered anyone younger than him by more than a year a child. She wore a top that was designed to both display her midsection and cleavage. A sort of tube top V-neck t-shirt. She was short, and the height of the chair Dan sat in made he seem shorter. Dan realized he was staring at her blankly in his drunkenness. The music drowned out her small voice out, but Dan had become adept at communicating in these environments.

“Can I ask you something? It might be a little offensive and I don’t want to offend you.”,

She persisted. Dan replied with pride stating, “It is very hard to offend me!” He leaned in to hear her more clearly.

“Are you gay?”, the question didn’t shock him. He was aware of his mannerisms and general aura. He had received this question before. He was more shocked she thought he’d be offended.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, are you bisexual?”

Now that was a bit jarring, he had been questioning that himself. It was never uncommon to be a few drinks in and for him to seek out and flirt with a male friend he found attractive, but he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about acting any of his flirtatious advances out. Sincerely he had been wondering just who to discuss these questions he had about himself with that same day. He hadn’t been able to come to anyone out of fear of being perceived as attention seeking. An outcome that would’ve never come, but an outcome his anxiety constantly reminded him of. This stranger was certainly not on the short list to say the least.

“Uhhhm, I’m not sure…”, Dan answered after some contemplation.

“Bi-curious then?”

“Maybe,”

“Like if you had enough drinks you would probably be?”

If I had enough drinks, we’d all meet a very different man.

“I guess- “, Dan found himself what he could most closely relate to an out of body experience. He saw himself face to face with this strange person in the dim light of the color changing lamp, while the amp filled the entire scene with electronic beats and rhythmic pulsing.

“I was just asking because of something you said earlier.”

Dan scrambled to think of the word he could’ve uttered to bring on this interrogation. To be honest he it could’ve been a litany of things he said. He was a liberal minded man after all. He himself was recently questioning himself on his heterosexuality, but he was too busy or kept himself distracted to put any serious thought into the matter. He was scarred. His pride wouldn’t allow himself to admit it, even to himself. His pride kept him preoccupied. Playing out his homosexual outburst as “displays of how secure in my heterosexuality I am.” He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fear, he shouldn’t be afraid there is nothing wrong with having sexual and emotional attraction to other men. That was something he long understood, so why was he afraid to admit to anyone- himself really that he might have them. The girl apologized, seeing clearly, she had stirred some hidden self-questioning up. Dan had always been told he had a very expressive face. He made a jest of the conversation to put the girl at ease and told her he’d she her around later. It was evident as she walked away, she was inquiring for someone interested in Dan. He swayed, checked his phone, and refilled his cup. Eventually he returned to the garage where the girl had walked off to. He noticed she exchanged glances with a young man. He wore his dark hair slicked back with some gel or pomade. From his left ear a silver six shooter pistol rocked, he wore a sky-blue t-shirt loosely tucked into sweatpants that had been cut into shorts. His chest was cover in a bouquet of flowers that decorated his shirt. Dan passed by and met his glace on his way to partake in a round of shots.

Dan exited the garage coughing. He returned to the den. The effects of the alcohol was taking its toll. He spread himself out on the couch that sat the wall opposite the sliding glass door. His host sat next to him as he slumped into an upright position to welcome her company. She informed him he was welcome to stay the night. He thanked her and they stayed there talking of the night. Eventually he awoke to the harsh sunlight flooding into the room through the sliding glass door. He did not recall receiving the blanket or pillow from his hosts. He gathered his belongings, allowed his eyes to adjust to the light, and without a word he exited the house. He had a week to start and a store to open after all.

#writing #writer #follow for short stories #short story #party #bi #based on real events #late night exercise #story #text #ameteur #first draft

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blueeyedbesson · 6 years

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Taking You: Chapter 9

9: I Depend On You

Series Masterlist Masterlist

"We're home!" I shouted as Jonah and I walked in through the front door. When nobody answered, I looked at Jonah. "Is anyone even home?"

"I'm gonna go check." he set his bag down and walked upstairs. I took a quick look through the rooms on the main floor and sighed when nobody showed up.

"Any luck up there?"

"Nope! They're all gone."

"Why would they not be home? They knew we were coming home today."

"I don't know." He sighed and pulled out his phone. "Come one. Let's go check the basement."

"Okay fine. But if something pops up and scares me, I'm going to punch you. Okay?"

"Got it." he chuckled and I followed him down the creaky wooden steps. He reached for the light and almost fell.

"Dude, how did you almost fall?" I smiled down at him from 3 steps above. "You're tall. You should be able to reach that light string with ease."

"Hey, it's harder than it looks." he chuckled and we continued walking down.

"Tell me about it. You're more than 6 feet tall and I'm only 5'3."

"Shorty."

"Shut up, Hoenah."

"Don't call me that." He stopped on the stairs and turned to face me. With the 3 step difference, we were the same height.

"Would you prefer if I called you Johana?"

"Yes actually."

"Really? Why?"

I don't know. It sounds better."

"Okay whatever." I smiled and jumped down a few steps. We were now standing on flat ground so I was back to being extremely short. "Hoenah."

"Abigail." he smirked.

"I hate when my full name gets used."

"Why?"

"Because I...never mind. Do you see anyone down here?" I asked.

"No." he sighed and turned to go back upstairs. Instead of getting to the stairs. He bumped into me and fell down. I reached my hand out and helped him stand. "Why were you so close to me?" he questioned as he dusted himself off and followed me upstairs.

"Basements are scary."

"So you're afraid of basements, something that can't really harm you, but you're obsessed with movies like Halloween and Friday The 13th, which have killers that anybody can easily imitate. How does that work?"

"I don't know. It just does." I smiled and walked into the kitchen. "I'm gonna make some cookies or something? Wanna help?"

"Um...yeah sure. Why not." he chuckled and got out the ingredients we needed.

"Jonah, can you get a bowl from up there?" I asked while pointing to the cabinet above me.

"Why can't you get it? You're right there."

"Well because 1, I'm too short, as you pointed out earlier. And 2, Corbyn hid them from me before he left because he doesn't like it when I bake without him."

"So you're bake-cheating on your boyfriend?" he chuckled and reached up to the shelf with the bowls.

"I wouldn't call it bake-cheating, exactly."

"What would you call it then?"

"Baking without Corbyn. But what he doesn't know, won't hurt him." I smiled and started mixing ingredients. Jonah helped here and there but he was on his phone most of the time.

When we put the cookies on the baking sheet, his phone went off.

"I gotta take this. I'll be right back." he smiled and answered the phone while leaving me in the kitchen. I sat down and looked on Wattpad for a new book to read. I found one about the boys and decided to read it. I got to the 3rd chapter before Jonah came back in. "I gotta go but I'll be back later. Don't let anyone eat the cookies until I get back." he smiled before leaving again.

This time, I was alone so I hooked my phone up to the surround sound speakers and started dancing. After the timer on the oven went off, I pulled the cookies out and smiled. The aroma started filling the house and I was happy so I went back to dancing. When 'Trust Fund Baby' came on, I started singing.

"And all we used to dream about, is getting rich and getting out. Move to the nicer part of town, where we have numbers on our house. It took a while to figure out, the type of girl that i'm about. Who brings the real man out of me. I don't really want no trust fund baby. I like my women independent."

"Wow. Great show." Zach chuckled as he set a box on the kitchen counter. "Ooh. Cookies." he smiled and went to reach for one but I slapped his hand. "Ow. What was that for?"

"Jonah asked me to not let anyone eat these until he got home."

"Where did he go?"

"No idea. But no one is eating them until he gets home."

"You're no fun." he sighed and sat on a stool. Seconds later, the others followed and just like Zach, they all reached for the cookies but I slapped their hands too.

"Why'd you slap us?" Angel asked.

"She wouldn't let me have one because we have to wait for Jonah to get back."

"He wanted to make sure he didn't miss out on getting to eat the cookies. He had to leave before they were done so I took them out."

"Did you bake-cheat on Corbyn with Jonah?" Angel gasped jokingly.

"No. Definitely not." I giggled. "Jonah actually baked these," I lied.

"Well I think we should taste them, just to see if they're bad or not." Jack smiled and went to grab one.

"Okay fine. But you only get one so make it last." I said, allowing everyone to reach for one.

"I need another cookie." Zach said with his entire cookie shoved in his mouth.

"Sorry Zach. But you can't have another one. We gotta save some for Jonah and make sure Aubrielle and Corbyn get some when they come home tomorrow."

"Oh right. Yay." Zach cheered.

"Why don't we just separate them into equal groups?" Jack questioned. Daniel nodded and it looked like he was calculating how many we all got.

"You guys made 80 cookies? What?" Daniel joked and counted them again. "Yup. There was 80 cookies here but now there's 76 because we all had one, except for Abby."

"So what do you say, Abby? Can we split them up?"

"Yeah sure. Whatever. But if you eat yours, you'll have to make your own." I smiled and started separating them into 8 piles, making sure I only gave 9 to 4 of the piles. Once that was done, I grabbed my phone off the speaker and went up to my room. Corbyn was calling me just as I decided to lay down.

"Hey babe. You get home safely?" he asked.

"Yeah. Jonah slept most of the plane ride though & that man snores a lot." I giggled, earning a chuckle from Corbyn.

"Oh I know. We share a room a lot. And I'm pretty sure when I get back tomorrow, It'll be my week to share with him again."

"Right. I forgot that you guys all switched every week." I sighed and looked at the picture I had of us on my night stand. It was taken a few days after I met the boys. "I can't wait until you get home tomorrow."

"Me too. It's going to be awesome."

"I missed you." I smiled.

"We saw each other at like 5 this morning." he chuckled.

"I know but still. I want to hold you and never let go."

"I wouldn't stop you." he chuckled. "Hey babe, I gotta get some sleep so I can be up tomorrow to fly home but I'll see you first thing tomorrow."

"Alright. Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you too." I smiled and he hung up the phone. I set mine down on the night stand and looked up at my ceiling. I couldn't wait to see Corbyn in the morning.

"I wish you were here with me tonight." I whispered to myself.

"You know, your wish can easily be granted." I heard the all too familiar voice say from the doorway. I quickly got off the bed and ran to him. He held me close and laughed. "God, I love you."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back early?"

"Well, you surprised me in Virginia so I thought I'd surprise you here." He smiled. "Where's Jonah? This was kind of his idea."

"It was?"

"Yeah, kind of. So, where is he?"

"I don't know. When we got home, no one was here so we checked and nothing. Then we got bored and we..."

"And you what? Finish that sentence."

"We played a bit of Fortnite. Then he got a call and left shortly after."

"You are a terrible liar." he chuckled and kissed me.

"What do you mean?"

"I know you bake cheated on me with Jonah."

"Well, Zach told me that there were cookies for me and then he said that Jonah made them. And we both know Jonah can't really bake."

"But he actually can if he really tries. He was so helpful today."

"I knew it. You bake-cheated on me. My own girlfriend bake-cheated. I can't believe she would bake with another man." he laughed and wiped away a fake tear.

"You're such a dork." I giggled and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"I lovvvvve you." He smiled and began kissing all over my face.

"Eww Corbyn." I couldn't help but giggle. This is what I've been missing. "You're lucky I love you."

"Good. Because I depend on you to love me."

"I depend on that too."

Liked by jonahmarais, corbynbesson, kdancing and 98,637 others

abbyavery: long trips with you are better than short trips with anyone else❤️ i love you ❤️ @corbynbesson

jonahmarais: you guys are the cutest couple ever 😍 BbyAngMarais: love this so much. you guys are my favorite 😁 AubrieBesson04: boys have cooties corbynbesson: oh i love you so much abby ❤️😘 seaveydaniel: #CootieAlert abbyavery: @seaveydaniel shut up 😋 & @corbynbesson 😘😍🤞🏻💍 jackaverymusic: um excuse me but why the ring emoji? 🤔

Tags: @ijustreallylovethem @samithepixie @averysgarl @jackaverybabe @trustfundshawn @lovableherron @beautybesson @jackaverx @scenteddanielseavey @beccagraceseavey @dolantwinmagconwhydontwestan-de @lilah-or-lily @dailydoseofherron @hales-a-bells @obsessedlittleangel-deactivated @zaddydaniel @brizzebesson @ramenavery @splendidseavey @smilingseavey @ilovejackavery @polaroidseavey @poutyavery

#Taking You #chapter 9 #i depend on you #why dont we fanfic

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worldcakecakecake · 6 years

Text

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58

Chapter 59

As with every instrument Feliciano practiced with, the very first song he learned to play on the harp was ‘Accept to be mine’. It was a melodic stirring that filled the gardens in awe, in halt to the work of whatever servants worked there, even the Queen couldn’t focus on the reading she was giving Feliciano. She eased into it, resting upon its tune, swayed in a delicate cloud, and to be honest, Feliciano joined her in it too despite how it was being made by his own hand. In that floating state, he lost whatever rhythm and the harp answered to his mistake violently.

There was a sudden burst of light and luckily Feliciano aimed it out of danger on time, into a slight jump in the air where it then exploded into ice. Queen Louis and Feliciano were covered in a sudden blanket of snow, harshly awaking them from the intense dream state they were in. Feliciano prepared for a harsh scold, but it seemed to disappear from Louis’s thoughts when Pookie emerged from his own cover, the most surprised and startled, an adorability that Louis couldn’t help but laugh. Pookie found his cover of heat once again with Feliciano, who freed his hold on the harp to hold his little winged lion instead, cuddling him into his cheek, only intensifying his smile and laugh.

Ludwig was supposed to be as dedicated to his own readings, but he distracted with that beautiful smile that was the star of the entire view of the garden from the King’s study room. He slumped well into the glass, hoping to reach him that very moment.

“Ludwig!” Aldrich had called again, loudly, starling the other from his love-struck stupefaction. “Boy, listen to me, we’re reading important clauses concerning animal abuse laws,” he scolded.

“I-I’m sorry, Opa.” He forced his eyes back on the reading.

“What were you staring at anyways?” The king stood himself to check and when he noticed the young arising queen playing with his St. Mark, leaving his own harp practicing and readings with his wife, he smirked in understanding.

“Ah, your heart and land,” Aldrich chuckled, easily earning a flush from Ludwig. “How have things been with him lately?” He wondered, not minding this break from their teachings, putting the book down and getting ready for a chat.

“To be honest, we have been too busy with our practices to really do much. Our times together are at dinner or in our bedroom, which I don’t think are enough.”

“Enough for what?” Ludwig’s answer was interrupted by Kiku’s entrance, in his arms scrolls and books, surely with questions and duties.

“Aldrich,” he bowed, “I have the writings concerning internal dark magic processing.”

“In a minute, Kiku, Ludwig here is dealing with emotional issues.”

“Uuu!” And Kiku sat as if this was a theater play to watch.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“We are not, we just want to help.”

“You can start by giving me ideas this instant,” Ludwig groaned.

“You did say there is an issue with time.”

“You could always try to take lessons and practices with him, or for both of you to finish as soon as possible or organize them for other times,” Kiku suggested.

“Your relationship is important to the kingdom as well and I will set aside what I can,” Aldrich already promised.

“Good, now there’s the issue of what to do with that time.”

Aldrich and Kiku remained in silence as they thought, meeting in a gaze as if to judge if their ideas would be enough.

“Well, your grandmother and I did the very traditional. Strolls through the gardens, private dinners in our room, the typical…flower and chocolate gifting.”

“I’m sorry, your majesty, but that is all too dull. I don’t think it will be the ideal for Ludwig and Feliciano, after all this is another generation we’re speaking about,” Kiku added.

“Um…singing,” still Aldrich awkwardly suggested, which earned raised eyebrows, surely denying.

“No, something more them, something that will have them sparking, something…” Kiku snapped his fingers as if trying to fetch the idea to come. He caught a small portrait of Ludwig as a child, and with it he was reminded. “Feliciano told me you made a lot of promises you didn’t keep.”

It was not something Ludwig wanted to be reminded of, but he sighed in embarrassed disappointment.

“Then fulfill them!”

“We were kids when we made them. We were naïve, we didn’t know anything.”

“What does that matter! It was something you both wanted in the past. I’m sure some of them can be something you can enjoy now. It will be a sweet token that you will both appreciate! It will mean that you’re trying and that you want a deeper relationship to grow! Now, think of one!”

It was immediate to Ludwig, who stood as the idea began to grow in his head. “I got it.”

It was a long climb up, stairs after stairs that Ludwig went up ready and confidently, while Feliciano had to stop every level to take deep breaths and internally cry every time he looked up to the still missing heights to take.

“I hope-I hope…you’re showing me a room full of gold!” Feliciano concocted as they must have reached the highest point in the castle, no other stairs, only a single hall with a long window at the end that showed the heights they took. There was a single door to a single room, whatever Ludwig wanted to show him there.

Feliciano practically let himself faint once he reached, almost hugging the floor in relief. Ludwig chuckled, helping him up and presenting him before the room. “You remember when we were kids… that I told you I would give you a painting room…with the best light and everything you would need.”

“I honestly thought you had forgotten,” Feliciano had to sadden.

“I might have acted harsh, Feliciano, but I never forgot.” Ludwig took a better grasp of both his hands, exciting them both the more. Ludwig couldn’t hold it any longer and pushed open the doors, lighting the entire hall in a brightening as if the very sun was caught in this room. Feliciano was momentarily blinded, letting the gold die down until he could notice that the reason for all this light was the coverage of long and wide windows across the circularity of this room. The marbled floor and the pillars that surrounded helped to make more of that bounce, some curtains of red from the walls present for if lessening was wanted. Oh, but Feliciano loved this light, he entered with an opening of arms, letting it embrace him wonderfully. When it had been enough, he finally noticed the items that loitered around the room. Easels, canvases, fabrics, cloths, paint, so many jars of paint in different boxes, some in different shelves, an array of colors that Feliciano hadn’t even tried before.

“What…what is this?” Feliciano wondered, spinning and only meeting more items that were the ideal for any artist.

“Royal painting room. Been used by several of our monarchs for centuries, has been so because of this.” Ludwig ushered Feliciano forward to the edge of the windows, Feliciano’s eyes widened at the immensity of the city shown, its forest of vicinity, the hills that surrounded, even the far sea that separated them from the Scandinavian area of the kingdom.

“This is the highest point in the castle!” After that climb, it was only obvious to Feliciano. “Yes, everything you want to see in your reach, non-ending inspiration and the best light in all the castle, and all yours.” He moved to place his hands on his shoulders, turning Feliciano once again to the area of work, already an infinity of things to do that fell instantly on Feliciano’s mind.

“Re-really?” He was kind of hesitant to reach any of the items, but the temptation was so clear.

“Yes! So take it, start! I know you want to.” Ludwig pushed him slowly and although Feliciano remained in his standing, frozen for seconds on, he interrupted it with a loud laugh, an excited jump, but not before turning, taking Ludwig in an embrace and kiss of potency, passion, as brightening as the sun that reigned in the room.

When they departed, dazed and flying, Feliciano whispered in a seductive tone: “Thank you.”

Ludwig didn’t know words anymore, his entire being was still flying in the magic that is always Feliciano’s kisses. He answered in silence and whispered stutters. Feliciano chuckled and removed himself to quickly pick from one of the many canvases, to put on an easel in a good center, plotting his ideas as he used his hands to picture how he could organize and set what he was still thinking. Ludwig picked a stool and settled it close to him, content enough in taking a simple seating.

Feliciano looked to him as if he had committed a crime. “Oh no, you’re sitting right next to me, Luddy!” Feliciano stood to force him into his closeness, Ludwig rolling his eyes but accepting.

Feliciano picked the softest and most fitting brushes that adjusted well to his hold, the prettiest jar of colors, some cloths for effects and he didn’t mind with getting something to cover his clothes. Who cared if he got them spotted with fine colors, he already wanted to stroke and paint and he wasn’t going to have anymore interruptions.

“How about… a nice snowy day in Berlin,” Feliciano imagined, raising a brush into the air as if to declare it. “What do you think?”

“You’re the one whose painting. You decide whatever you wish.”

“What do you mean I’m the only one whose painting?” And that’s when Ludwig was reminded of how exactly that promise had gone long ago.

Feliciano smirked, surely ready to impose.

“No,” Ludwig already decided.

“Come on, how many times do we have to go through this?”

“Until I have convinced you enough that I am terrible.”

“You aren’t!”

“Seems I still have work to do…”

“Just… like we used to, just like we did when were in the Oralee.” The reminder of that sweetened moment, one of the first in their opening, gave a weakening, a smile, one that had Ludwig docile enough for Feliciano to pull his arm, forcing both to a unity of that brush hold.

Ludwig sighed and settled once again to Feliciano’s wishes, both starting a baby blue stroke in a beginning. The comfort gave him quite a confidence for something grandiose even with his mediocre skills. Feliciano was there, smiling up at him, sure to love whatever they created together. And so, they stayed and gave themselves all the time they wanted in a room of color, inspiration and strengthening love.

“Und frische Nahrung, neues Blut Saug ich aus freier Welt: Wie ist Natur so hold und gut, Die mich am Busen hält!!” Ludwig read as warm, as the embrace that Feliciano needed with the coming near cold.

“Die Welle wieget unsern Kahn Im Rudertakt hinauf, Und Berge, wolkig himmelan, Begegnen unserm Lauf.” Ludwig had a sitting in one of the near chairs, deciding on a standing and joining Feliciano, who was seated on the floor, right in front of a window, a new large sketchbook in his hand that he was using dark pastels on to recreate the rain that was currently falling.

“Aug, mein Aug, was sinkst du nieder? Goldne Träume, kommt ihr wieder? Weg, du Traum! so gold du bist: Hier auch Lieb und Leben ist.“ He sat close, in a clear touch, a hand holding him behind him.

Feliciano suddenly stopped in his drawing, instead smiling up to Ludwig at the words that he found so lovely even though he couldn’t understand it completely.

“You sound so wonderful in German,” Feliciano said dreamily.

Ludwig smirked, continuing. “Auf der Welle blinken, Tausend schwebende Sterne, Weiche Nebel trinken, Rings die türmende Ferne.“ Now Ludwig laid his head upon Feliciano’s as he read on, as Feliciano sketched, both somehow managing to do their activities through the blush, the high activity of love streaming through their bodies that did well to heat the room.

“Morgenwind umflügelt, Die beschattete Bucht, Und im See bespiegelt, Sich die reifende Frucht..“

“Feliciano, Ludwig, there is need of opinions for the-” Queen Louis’s voice could be hidden well out of the wall that was built to keep the moment fresh and lovely to themselves.

The Queen watched with adoring eyes at the scene, too beautiful to just depart, to miss such growth, such a reminder of a past that she thought would never repeat.

“Your majesty, the power con-”

“Shh, look at this,” she interrupted the messenger sent, pointing to the two figures sitting beside each other so warmly.

The messenger, even with the weigh of many duties, breathed and awed. “It’s nice to see them be so lovely together,” she admitted.

“Yes, yes, so much,” Louis agreed, finding more treasure in the caress Ludwig gave Feliciano’s hips. “There is more yet!” She assured, confident and loud even if she had only whispered the words to the other. “Come now, is this about the power containments?” She already moved aside, attentive once again, leaving the messenger behind, who almost tumbled as she turned and took her pace.

“And that’s…200 cookies!” Feliciano gave that last count, closing the oven with the last addition.

“Great!” And still Ludwig was mixing something else.

Feliciano giggled as he rested his head on his hands, a cute lean on the counter, staring with the ever-growing fire of love in his eyes. “Aren’t 200 cookies enough?” He joked.

The others that were already done sat in piles of decorated plates to the side. Feliciano, since he had helped in the majority of the day with the baking, thought there wouldn’t be a problem if he reached for one. It was stopped by a hit of Ludwig’s spoon.

“Hey!” Feliciano pained, rubbing the forming red in his hand.

“They’re for later. A little bit of patience, liebling.” Oh, how Feliciano was adoring being called that. It almost made the sting go away completely.

“I thought of making some cinnamon rolls just for us. You still like them?”

“I’ve never stopped,” Feliciano laughed.

“This won’t let me make 200, but it can make us a couple,” Ludwig smiled, the dough ready to be formed.

“I’m sure I’m going to love them!”

That moment, a visitor came, luckily his robes familiar, Kiku taking a seating by one of the many stools. “I must say, Ludwig, I’m really glad you took this baking hobby,” he admitted, loving the smell, or just how happily and calm his arising king and queen turned each day, a new forming of all kinds of activities that did more than just the duties they had kept to before their journey.

“He’s improved like you have no idea,” Feliciano cheekily added.

“The last time you had something I baked, we were ten. How was I supposed to properly do this as a kid?” Ludwig excused.

“I’m glad you practiced through the years.”

“I completely stopped after Romulus’s letter.” Ludwig placed the bowl on the counter, dreading the memory, yet feeling its depressing grasped all over again.

“It’s going to be fine. We’re training, preparing and I’m sure we’ll take Khaos when the times comes. But, let’s focus on what we’re doing now.” Feliciano took Ludwig’s hand in assurance and they smiled to each other confident, indeed just settling in the light and smells of this kitchen.

In that distraction, Kiku neared his hand to one of the piles, thinking he could sneak in a cookie. He was stopped by another hit of Ludwig’s spoon.

There was a mess of planning, scheduling and notes in Feliciano’s desk, and the aid of a playing baby that said arising queen was helping to the growing of this disruption wasn’t ideal to the current queen.

“Feliciano, are you sure you should have Augustino here?”

To be honest, Louis hadn’t been able to concentrate with the baby’s babbling, cries and Feliciano’s coos. How he had managed to work throughout the holding of his nephew was quite a feat.

“I promised Lovino and Antonio to take care of him while they trained. I want to be a present and loving uncle. I want to be with him whenever possible,” he tried to convince, placing a quick kiss on the baby’s head while the other hand wrote on some documents on the desk.

It was quite adoring to see Feliciano deal so well with children while working well at the same time. It assured her of a proper father for a future heir, as well as someone who could keep well to his queenly duties despite so.

“If you want, I can go to another room,” Feliciano suggested.

“No, no. Just make sure to calm him, all right?”

Feliciano nodded and they both could focus on these preparations.

“Are we going with the ground ballroom?” Feliciano asked.

“Do you think it’s the best idea?” Queen Louis had learned after the first ball experience to trust Feliciano with his choices.

“I believe so. Every royal from every kingdom will be coming, and I’m also thinking of inviting many others, so we will have plenty of people from different kingdoms. Because of the space and access, I think it would be best.” He signed the document officiating it, decided.

“What about rooming? Will you take those guests into the castle too?”

“We have the space and I’ve already spoken to the servants about availability and cleaning.” He even made a drawing and raised it to show the proof of his word. She smiled in deep pride.

A clear beautiful night in the kingdom, and Ludwig and Feliciano didn’t waste it, rested well together in a comfortable couch they placed in the balcony. They took all its corner in a ball of themselves, Feliciano dressed in that very comfortable free robe Francis had giving him when they were in Paris.

With Ludwig, his own free pants and shirt, glasses of wine in their hands, pure bliss in their expressions, it was the scene of royalty and riches that anybody expected for the arising king and queen. Closed were their eyes, every breeze another caress to get them to sleep just like this, out in the open as held together they had lately slept in their bed.

“Hey,” Ludwig tried to awaken as sweetly as he could, raising Feliciano more into a proper sitting.

“Luddy…I was almost falling asleep,” Feliciano groaned, having to rub away whatever had caught him. “I know, I’m sorry, but…I was meaning to suggest something we could do this weekend.” He noticed that they had some time of freedom, one deserving after what they had gone through in the week, their instructors feeling that they needed rest and calmed minds before they continued with another wave of harsh responsibilities.

“Hmm…mud bathing,” Feliciano relaxed at not only the soothing of it, but of the fun and play that can come.

“Feliciano…no.”

“Then what…tell me already.” He was still sleepy and wanted to crash as soon as Ludwig omitted this plan.

“There’s an island, north of the German province, reaching well into the Scandinavian provinces, called Norderney. It’s not exactly the beaches we saw in the Oralee, or the Grecian islands or even the ones from Italy. But it’s still a great place to swim with peculiar things that are worth seeing. My family has a cabin there and I really don’t think they would mind us taking it for the time.”

With the swaying Feliciano maintained, eyes fluttering constantly in temptation to sleep, Ludwig had worried he hadn’t even listened.

“That sounds wonderful, Luddy. But-” he yawned and stretched, then wrapping his arms well around Ludwig’s torso- “why do you want to go?”

Ludwig sighed, “I made a promise to take you everywhere, didn’t I?”

Feliciano smiled and blushed so adorably. “Didn’t we kind of do that for the last couple of months?” He chuckled.

“We did, but it was mostly because we had a duty to fulfill. I want to do something more fun and just…for us,” Ludwig wanted to coax.

Feliciano cuddled more into his chest, smiling deep, imagining the awe that will surely lay in this trip. “Will we go tomorrow?”

It was sudden, and Ludwig wondered if Feliciano just said it in a dreamy haze. Yet…it was possible and even better.

“Yes.” It was decided.

“My Tino, Tino, Gustino, Augustino.”

“Stop singing João’s stupid ass song!” Lovino scolded, holding out his arm to have his son back. Feliciano gave him, but not before leaving him a long kiss on the top of his head.

His little nephew was already a month old, more adorable each day, growing, smiley and energetic.

“Aw, I’ll miss him so much!”

“Feliciano…we’re only leaving for three days.”

“Still!” He slammed his hands on the side of his thighs.

Ludwig grinned, “come on, let’s get going.”

Ludwig took Feliciano’s hand and lead him forward down the castle entrance steps, to an awaiting carriage at the bottom, only but simple bags over their shoulders.

“Don’t get too frisky!” Lovino called from his spot.

Ludwig froze, and Feliciano rolled his eyes, “we won’t!”

Just as they arrived before the carriage, about ready to take their entrance, Pookie huffed angrily on Feliciano’s shoulder.

“Pookie, what is it?” Feliciano wondered. His little St. Mark had never reacted this way when getting on a carriage.

Cocky, with a prideful shake, fly, and walk to the pavement, he took a stance and let the growing magic run over him. The light he was engulfed in grew and grew, until the large beast was before them again, wings expanded, prepared, ready, but Ludwig and Feliciano didn’t understand for what, remaining in their stand confused.

“Uh…what does he want?” Ludwig asked.

Pookie seemed impatient, ready to growl out his distaste. He shook his bottom, laid even more on the ground, and pointed with his wings to his back, then expanding them even more.

“I think he wants us to…get on him,” Feliciano understood. He gave some steps closer, the idea one that settled well on his head, wanting to take those wings and let them fly off with the wind as any creature of the sky.

Ludwig could see his interest, but he was still suspicious, remaining still by the carriage. “What? No. That is highly dangerous!” He tried to bring sense to both the animal and his arising queen, but neither gave head.

“But…he really wants us to,” Feliciano pointed.

“You really want to!”

“Yes! Come on! Let’s try it out.” It seemed Feliciano was already decided, coming near and trying to find a way in which he could mount without causing too much weigh on Pookie. Ludwig still stood by the carriage, looking to the horses as if expecting them to help him convince these two.

Feliciano was now well placed, excited, smiling already at what this kind of traveling would be. He could imagine himself riding exactly like Augusta did in her depictions, into battle or whatever unknown sunsets in the horizon. Ludwig still stood apart not wanting any of that.

“Luddyyyyy,” Feliciano whined.

“We’re not flying!”

“This is Pookie! He wouldn’t let anything happen to us! Besides, it’s new and it would be really fun! Come on, let’s try it out!” Feliciano continued to persuade, with a deep wish in his eyes that Ludwig was slowly falling weak to.

He gave up, although huffing, with arms angrily wrapped on his chest, his nearing steps as loud and mad. He gave a quick signal for some of the near servants to save the carriage and horses, taking sitting on the winged lion behind Feliciano. It took him a while to really get comfortable, Pookie so annoyed Feliciano feared he would knock out Ludwig on purpose.

“If anything happens…we’re taking horses back,” Ludwig warned.

“Yes! And don’t worry, everything will be all right!” He smiled back to him. “Now, hold on to me.” Feliciano could feel Pookie going through his preparation to fly off at the instant the wind took him.

“I think I’m good like this.”

“Are you?” Feliciano really wanted him to think, but it was already too late. Pookie’s wings were spread and he blasted off into the heights, in a moment having them even higher than the castle. Both had panicked, Feliciano holding tightly to the fur and having to lay his face in it, the rush of the wind hitting badly. Ludwig, after an unceremoniously shout, realized he had no other holding than Feliciano, wrapping his arms rather strongly around him, leaving Feliciano breathless as Pookie adjusted well into the air.

After a fearsome spin, a leaning and then another rush of altitude, Pookie finally found his settling, now calm, a smooth direction to north on an outing of the city. At this point, the breeze became calm, the ride peaceful, Ludwig and Feliciano could dispatch themselves from whatever hiding and actually look appropriately around them.

What a beautiful glow of the setting sun, the spread of colors of their capital city, of red mountains, bountiful villages, shinning rivers and lakes, all in a radius of freedom and reaches that made them more ruling than any powerful throne they could be given. There was a running of emotion as if they could feel every life moving below them, the horizons showing a liberation of places to explore and never reach limits. It brought ease and content to the riders, falling in ease, no fear blinding them any longer from the majesty of it all. Pookie seemed to grin and raise his head in pride…but with a shake of his mane that gave an awakening slap to Feliciano, he reminded that there was still a place to reach.

“Oh, yeah,” Feliciano remembered, bringing his hands back to the hold of the mane as a wheel to their flight. Feliciano tested it out, Pookie obediently following whatever direction he decided to move him toward to.

“Where to?” Feliciano asked Ludwig. He was the one that knew well the direction to Norderney and they very much depended on him for that.

Ludwig took a better look at their surroundings, to the routes that looked diminutive and the landmarks but specks below. “West through Grunewald,” he could identify, and they could begin.

Feliciano nodded as did Pookie, and the lion turned to fly over the familiar forest. Onward for the first time on the back of a St. Mark.

Lovino had watched it all from the comfort of the castle, not being able to hide how impressed he was by the spectacle of watching his brother fly off on Pookie like in ancient stories. Augustino was just as wondered, his eyes following their dot even as it disappeared in the distance.

“I hope your uncle doesn’t teach you to be that crazy.”

#Feliciano and the King of Hearts #fatkoh #f&tkoh #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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merigreenleaf · 6 years

Text

AU Tuesday - “Stuck With You” Part 9

(For AU Tuesday I’m writing a multi-part story about all five of my main characters using the prompt: “A [platonic] soulmate AU where you have a black stain where your soulmate is supposed to touch you for the first time and it turns to millions of colors once they do.” The events are all [or mostly] canon to the series; the only real change are the soul-marks. These can really be read in any order because each part pretty much stands on its own. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 10.)

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Sol shoved the pile of half-finished toothpick sculptures aside until there was a big, empty space on his worktable perfect for his Plan. It was a great plan. He fixed performers’ props all the time and there was no way he could mess this up. There was only one problem: he didn’t have the prop yet. It wouldn’t be a secret anymore if he went and got it because everyone would wonder what he was doing in Blythe’s house. Well, Blythe’s and Dray’s and Adair’s house, since they both lived in her wagon now, too. Every day Sol asked Adair to move in with him because that would be like a sleepover all the time, but Adair kept saying no, saying that Blythe’s wagon had a bigger pantry and space for the easel she’d bought him. It wasn’t fair, Sol should rank above food and art supplies. Maybe if he built a really smarfy thing that was part bed, part studio, part kitchen, Adair would move in.

Adair! That was the perfect way to get the prop! Adair could pretend to grab his paint or something, then sneak out with it when he left. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he lived over there.

“Hey, buddy? Do you know where Dray keeps their props? Can you get me their staff?”

A few feet away Adair was doing his best oversized magpie impression in the very well-enforced nest that was Sol’s bed. Much like Sol had done to the desk, Adair had pushed Sol’s collection of metallic odds and ends and broken pieces of appliances to the side. Sol craned his neck to see what he was drawing in his sketchbook, but Adair closed it and set it on top of the nest-pile before he could get a good look. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

Sol tugged the sculpture of Adair’s cat free from his arm and put the lid on the glue jar before grinning at Adair. “I’m gonna fix it up for them. Dray’s gonna love it!”

Adair shrugged and headed out the door while Sol went into planning mode. The staff had looked a little dingy and scratched up when Dray danced with it last night. That would have been almost acceptable for a tinkerer like Sol-- until he saw the struggle Dray had separating the pieces to take it apart. It was then that Sol had his brilliant Plan. He’d take Dray’s beat up old staff and fix it up so that it was like new. Better than new! He wasn’t the carnival troupe’s resident inventor for nothing!

Plus Dray seemed so gloomy and sad that Sol wanted to do something to cheer them up. He’d wanted to meet Blythe’s sibling ever since he learned she had one because Sol’s own sibling was great so that must mean that Blythe’s was, too. And then he met Dray. Maybe Dray was great, somewhere under all the cynicism and frowns, but they kept to themself and didn’t really talk to Sol or anyone. Okay, Etri was like that, too, but that was just because he was shy and Blythe had never said anything about Dray being shy. What Dray needed was something to make them feel welcome and Sol knew he was the one who could do it, especially with Adair here to help.

How had he gotten by before Adair sleepwalked into the carnival? Adair didn’t mind holding down things Sol was hammering or grabbing stuff Sol forgot to have ready or taking emergency midnight trips into the city with him to dive through dumpsters. Sometimes his drawings even gave Sol ideas. And since Adair wasn’t here to use it right now, now would be the perfect time to go through his sketchbook! Sol flopped onto the bed and grabbed the book. For a moment the nest teetered, but when only a few pieces of scrap metal clattered to the floor, Sol made himself comfortable and started flipping through the pages. A sketch of a bullfrog, this one probably won’t be helpful… detailed study of a paintbrush tip, no, not this one either… a rough drawing of Dray dancing? Maybe this one would be…

A red sequined bag dropped into his lap. “Is this the right one? Dray’s got a ton of prop bags and they all look the same.”

Maybe if he combined this drawing of a bullfrog with that old cuckoo clock he found, he could make something that croaked the hour. “Huh?”

Adair took the sketchbook from his hands and replaced it with the strap of the bag. “Remember? You asked me to get the staff so you could fix it. Is this the right one?”

“That’s right! Dray’s surprise!” Sol jumped off the bed too fast and stumbled as he slung the strap over his shoulder. The bag swung around and smacked Adair in the head. No wonder Blythe always said he needed to slow down before he hurt himself. Hurting Adair was worse than hurting himself! Adair was his important. He felt for a bump on Adair’s head and didn’t feel anything. Was that a good sign? Would there be a bump already? Sol hurt himself on a daily basis but he wasn’t really sure how Blythe figured out when he needed to be healed and when he needed to be shooed out the door. “Sorry! Does it hurt? Do you need to go to Blade? She always tells me to watch where I’m going and she’s probably right-”

Adair ducked down and out of his reach. “I’m fine. But are you sure you should do this without asking?”

Sol blinked at him. “Hit you in the head?”

“No. I mean, yeah, don’t do that, but I meant fix Dray’s prop without asking. Dray’s really… enthusiastic about their props. I swear they were baby talking to their fire swords this morning. It was kind of weird.”

Sol peeked inside the bag. Adair had picked right despite his constant confusion about props. He called pretty much everything vaguely rod-shaped a baton. In Adair’s defense, all of his paintbrushes looked the same to Sol, and he had yet to hand Adair the right one he asked for. Maybe if he used Adair’s paint to color-code them all… Right, Adair had said something about carnies being weird. “Weird? Oh, with props. All carnies are like that. Etri’s favorite knife is named Pokey. Well, when I say it’s named, I mean I call it that, he doesn’t, but I bet if I do it long enough he’ll pick up on it. It worked with Blythe’s boots Kicky and Kicko.”

“And you’re sure it’s okay to fix it without asking?”

Adair trailed after him and sat on the step stool while Sol took the three pieces of the staff out of the bag. The stool was there so Adair could reach the table built for Sol’s height, but Adair was iffy about using it. Sometimes it was fine, sometimes his fear of heights was too much and Sol had to work on the floor with him instead. That was okay. Having a friend to help was worth way more than a table that was usually covered in last week’s Big Plan anyway.

“I’m not gonna hurt it, just make it better. Like Blade does when we get hurt.”

“But that’s different.”

Sol eyed the staff before connecting and unconnecting two of the parts. They did drag each time instead of sliding silently together and the catch was funny. It was a wonder Dray had put up with this because Sol would have gotten it fixed a long time ago. If he sanded it down and then soldered on a different connector, it should come together much smoother. “It’s not different. She’s a healer to broken people, I’m a healer to broken things. We both fix things. The difference is, she can’t make broken people shoot spikes or ignite with the push of a button, and I can! I mean things, not people. I can’t make people shoot spikes. But things like this staff – Ooh! Maybe I can make the staff ignite! And shoot spikes! And then ignite the spikes! And then-”

“Okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense. You go do that and I’ll… umm… be over here.” Adair retreated to his nest, which Sol thought was a little silly because it wasn’t like he’d added the spikes yet. Maybe if Adair sat there long enough, though, one of Sol’s piles of scrap would hatch into a little trash vulture or something. Sol could train it to pick through junk heaps, and perch on his shoulder, and say important words like “hello” and “smarfy” and “look out, Blythe’s coming.”

But first the staff. No sooner had Sol pushed the third piece into place when a voice that wasn’t Adair’s rang across the wagon, “You thief!”

The staff dropped to the table with a clatter. Sol glanced over his shoulder and, not seeing anyone there, lifted his arm to see in the blind spot caused by his biceps. There Dray stood with their hands on their hips, wearing a scowl so much like Blythe’s that Sol wanted to hide despite Dray being half his size. “Wh-where?”

Unlike Blythe, Dray’s furious expression and hands-on-hips didn’t turn into foot-tapping or counting. Sol hated when Blythe counted at him. It make him lose track of his thoughts every time and that meant never knowing what it was she wanted him to stop doing. Dray glared up from the level of Sol’s elbow. “I’m looking at him. You took it.”

Dray wasn’t all that scary, really, not after knowing Blythe for so long. If all they were going to do was stand there and accuse Sol of… something… without even throwing numbers at him, Sol was going to get back to work. He picked up the staff again and ran his thumb over the second connector. “I took what?”

“That! That right there!”

“This?” Sol looked at the staff, then back at Dray. It turned out he didn’t need counting to lose track of what they were arguing about. Huh, you learn something new every day. “What about this?”

“That!” Dray took their hands from their hips so that they could gesture at the staff. “You took that!”

“I took this?”

“Yes! You took my staff!”

Oh! Now Sol remembered why Dray was here. It was Dray’s staff that he was going to make shoot flaming spikes. He grinned at Dray and nodded. “Yeah! Yeah, I took your staff.”

There was a brief pause between them, then Dray cleared their throat. “Well? Can I have it back now?”

“You mean the staff?” Sol pointed at the staff with the hand that wasn’t holding it. He wanted to be clear that Dray wasn’t talking about something else.

“Of course I mean the staff!” Dray gestured wildly toward the ceiling now. “What else have I been asking about since I came in here?”

“But I’m not done with it yet. I have to be a healer to it because it’s a broken thing and I fix broken things.”

“There’s nothing broken about my staff.”

Dray lunged for it and Sol reflexively lifted it up above his head. His knuckles scraped the ceiling and it hurt a little, but he knew Dray wouldn’t be able to reach it. If Dray would stop yelling, Sol could have had this done five minutes ago. Maybe not the spikes yet, that might take a while, but the fixing part would be finished. “Yes there is! I have to sand it down and solder on a new catch so it slides together better--”

“Give. Me. My. Staff.”

“--And it doesn’t shoot spikes or light them on fire yet--”

“It’s not supposed to do that, you goon!” Dray hopped onto the step stool and reached for the staff, their fingertips falling short yet close enough that Sol feared they'd be able to grab it if they jumped.

Sol needed to make Dray understand. It was a present to make them happy and now they were just about the opposite of happy. Or was sad the opposite of happy? Dray wasn't sad anymore, and that was what Sol had been going for, but angry wasn't what he wanted either. “But it was going to! It was going to be a surprise and now I told you and it’s not a surprise anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘surprise’?” Dray planted their foot on Sol’s shin and grabbed onto one of his shoulders. Within seconds they had clambered up Sol’s torso.

“I’m fixing your staff. …Surprise!” Despite Dray’s display of human parkour, Sol was having fun. Hey, maybe Dray would want to start an acrobatic act with him. Now that Etri was going to be Adair’s sentinel, he probably wouldn’t be performing much and Sol was going to need a new partner.

“It. Doesn’t. Need. Fixed.” Dray hoisted their way up past his shoulders until they sat astride the back of his neck. Sol waved the staff around, wondering how well Dray could keep their balance. He was pretty sure they were holding on entirely with their knees.

The door to the wagon swung open followed by a voice Sol knew all too well. “Freeze, you two!”

Sol spun so that both of them were facing the shadows standing in the doorway and he was pleased when Dray didn’t even totter. Maybe this could work! He’d have to ask Etri about his future plans and if he’d mind Sol taking on a new partner. He’d have to ask Dray, too, of course, but maybe they--

That was when he realized Blythe was still addressing them in what Sol thought of her “stop-screwing-around” voice. He had no choice but to hand Dray the staff, which they snatched with a gleeful cackle, so he could pluck them from his shoulders and set them on the floor. Adair stood next to Blythe and it took Sol a worried minute to realize he was turning red because he was trying not to laugh. What was so funny?

“Well, I’d say that’s unexpected, but I should have seen it coming when I heard you two bickering. Dray, do you always activate marks by getting into fights?”

What was she talking about? Sol glanced down at Dray to see if they had any idea. Dray must have taken his attention the wrong way because they glared and swung the staff behind their back to put it out of reach.

Adair had returned to his normal shade of brown when he nudged Blythe’s arm. “Can I tell them both? Please? Pretty please?”

Blythe sighed and covered her eyes with her hand. “This is going to be a bad pun again, isn’t it? Every time you ask, it’s always a bad pun.”

“There’s no such thing as a bad pun.” Adair gestured with both hands at Sol and Dray. “I guess this means they’re sole-mates.”

“I knew it. That’s the same dumb pun you’ve been making since you met Sol.”

“No, it’s not! The other was about Sol. This one’s completely different. I mean, it does make them sole-mate Sol-mate soulmates, but it’s a completely different joke.”

“Oh no,” Dray muttered under their breath.

Sol just stared at Adair. If he waited long enough, maybe Adair would stop saying his name and explain what was going on. To his relief Adair came over and poked him in the side, but his words weren’t any more helpful. “You two must have got off on the wrong foot, huh?”

Blythe and Dray groaned in tandem. Why was Adair talking so much about feet?

“You’re going to be together through thick and shin now, I’ll bet.”

Huh?

Dray held out a hand as though to keep Adair at a distance. “Enough is enough. Sol, he means look at your leg, you doof.”

Finally someone was making sense. Sol did as he was told. The long black soulmark on the front of his leg had changed into the same rainbow of the other marks on his body. He’d always thought the mark looked a little like a footprint and… that was why Adair kept making all the feet comments! Dray’s matching mark to his must be on the bottom of their foot, like Etri and Blythe’s were on their hands and Adair’s was on his back. Maybe Dray would want to share an act with him because they were destined to be important to each other. He let out a whoop and picked Dray up in a bear hug to spin them around. This was great! Now he knew who all of his importants were!

Dray’s only reaction to this was to sigh when Sol put them back on the ground and to tug the wrinkles from their shirt. “I guess it could be worse. Pun-boy over there could be one of my soulmates.”

Adair stuck his tongue out, which Dray ignored.

“Now that I know I’m stuck with you and you weren’t going to steal it, I suppose I can let you have this.” Dray held out the staff only to snatch it back when Sol went to take it. “Under one condition. You only fix it up so it works better. No spikes and absolutely no flaming spikes.”

“Can I at least make the wicks self-ignite when you push the button? I really want to make it have a button that does something smarfy.”

Dray hesitated, but handed it over. “I’m going to regret this. I know I’m going to regret this. Just be careful with it.”

There was no doubt about it. Sol had the best importants! He met Adair’s eyes and didn’t have to say a word. Adair knew exactly what he wanted. “I’ll go move the rest of the toothpicks off the table.”

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(My husband gets co-writer credit this week because he helped me out with writing that argument and then acted it out for me. He’s a goofball! Anyway, I have two chapters left in this story and next week it’s a Dray POV. :) As always, if you want to be taken off the list of people I tag when I share stories, let me know. If you want to be added to the list, also let me know. And please definitely do tag me when you share stories and excerpts and things, too! @ageekyreader @lynnafred @the-gay-hufflepuff @firewritten @joshuaorrizonte @writtenhastily @writerlydays @ava-burton-writing @josephmxa @megan-cutler @dragonscanbeplantstoo @alittle-writer @perringwrites @an-author-in-progress @aceduchessdragoness @madmooninc @thatwriternamedvolk @elliot-orion @wchwriter @lady-redshield-writes @shadow-maker @zachdoesawriting @blogherosix @reeseweston @bluemartlet @pen-for-sword @writer-on-time )

#writing #writeblr #short story #au story #soulmate au #au tuesday #unexpected inspiration series #stuck with you story #UI POV: Sol #I always worry about Sol's chapters being too weird and rambly so hopefully this works! :)#although writing this chapter makes me want to get a staff even more than I already did #dang my carnies making me want to try new props!

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