#i wanted to finish it for the equinox but oh well happy spring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kashimos-hajime · 4 years

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cookies and rings and things | b.b.

summary: “What do you want for Christmas?” “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

WARNINGS: swearing, but it’s all soft, cute and just love!!! lots of love :) pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 8.3k

a/n: written for @sunmoonandbucky for no particular reason other than i saw that she needed fluff and i was more than happy to provide. make sure y’all show her some love bc she just ACED AN AUDITION and literally,, i love her,,, so much,,, NOW HAS A SEQUEL TITLED: POSITIVELY PERFECT

“How much do you love me?” she asks, winter gleaming on her bare skin and firelight playing in her eyes. It’s Boxing Day of 2024, the first truly normal one after the Blip, and Bucky watches as snow falls like feathersoft stars outside his window at the compound.

“Count the snowflakes, multiply by a million.”

“Big number,” she muses and he can feel her nails scratch at his waist lightly as her socked feet nudge against his. He wonders what kinda insane person wears socks without any clothes on, but then decides that it’s the kind of person who’s fallen in love with him.

“Well, I love you more than that,” he replies. She wrinkles her nose and snuggles in tighter against him. The fur lining of those ridiculous reading socks tickle the inside of his calf as she curls against him and he doesn’t think he should be able to love a girl this much. Then, he can feel the cold metal of the ring she slid onto her own finger less than twenty-four hours ago and realizes that he had thought a lot of things shouldn’t be possible, and yet they still are.

“Dork,” she murmurs against his neck.

“Lover,” he replies against her ear.

Bucky doesn’t mean to notice her. He’s running laps around the newly rebuilt compound, she has a whistle in her mouth as she shouts drills around the metal thing. Sharp cracks of ‘Pick up the pace!’ and ‘Move it, kids!’ nip at his ears when he runs by and Sam says something about how he’s getting distracted. He hadn’t realized at all.

“Who’s she?” he asks, wiping the sweat from his brow. He’s just finished five laps and he stands on the inner edge of the track, watching as recruits run past. A towel is slung over his shoulder and Sam skids to a stop in front of him, stepping in beside the soldier. The rookies’ shirts are soaked and they pant as they whip past, but none dare to slow down when she stands waiting just a few metres away.

“New trainer.” Sam’s got a glint in his eye Bucky thinks he knows when he says her name. He’s just getting to know the guy but he’s a pretty easy book to read anyway. “Heard she’s a hard ass on the newbies but it��s ‘cause she has a rep.”

“Then they’re getting what they signed up for,” he says shortly. Despite the cool autumn breeze brushing against the thick heat of his neck, his heart burns into his chest as he heaves another breath.

“Alright, walk it off. We meet by the pool in fifteen.” She catches their attention again, and Bucky notices she’s wearing a half-zipped up windbreaker and joggers, and nothing underneath. Not that he intends to notice. Her hair is tied up back, and he kinda can’t help but look at her neck and her collarbones and, oh, no, he’s looking at her black sports bra—

“Dude.” He blinks at Sam’s amused snap. “You’re staring.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s voice roughens up as his cheeks begin to flash red and he hides his face in his towel when Sam nudges him with a sweaty elbow.

“She’s cute. I can get you her number,” Sam says but Bucky lets out such a strangled sound that both Sam and the cute trainer look at him.

If it were possible, Bucky’s skin would melt off.

“Hey,” Sam calls her over by a name Bucky can barely hear because he’s too busy staring at his feet and wishing the ground would swallow him up. “You’re the new trainer, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is so much softer than before. Guess it’s like that when you’re not yelling at recruits and talking to Avengers. Bucky raises his head, absently running a hand through the few strands of hair that’ve fallen from his ponytail. “You’re Sam, right? I feel like we’ve met before.” She cocks her eyebrow and tilts her head. “Did you use to live in Washington?”

“Yeah, I did.” Sam’s smile pinches his cheeks and Bucky’s lips press together in a displeased frown when a grin flickers across her face. “Did you work in the VA? ‘Cause you’re starting to look familiar.”

“Yeah.” When she smiles, it morphs her face into something startling warm and lovely. Bucky dips his head low, trying to act like he’s not really part of the conversation—a mere bystander—because if he looks at her for too long, he knows it’s just too intense to be anything but creepy. “I think we used to bump into each other at the gym. I was a physical therapist at the office, and—”

“You made cookies any chance you got, I remember now!” Sam exclaims and she laughs loudly. “You always made my vets’ day when your cookies came in, so thank you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. It’s funny how life works.” She shrugs and Bucky can feel her gaze land on him. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.” Her name slips off her tongue like poetry and Bucky, midway through a swipe of sweat down his neck, looks at her with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t mean to glare, but he’s caught so off-guard by the sudden change in direction of their conversation that he isn’t even a part of that his face reverts to something less than friendly.

“Bucky,” he says stiffly, although he doesn’t know why she doesn’t know the names of every Avenger. She probably does and is just being polite, a stern voice in Bucky’s head reprimands and he can feel Sam almost sigh in disappointment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. You haven’t tried my cookies yet, so I haven’t proven my worth but I promise they’ll change your life,” she says, completely unphased. Bucky guesses she’s more than used to grumpy guys. “Fall equinox is tomorrow, so wait just a tiny bit longer?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bucky doesn’t understand the question at the end of her sentence but she seems satisfied with his answer as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her windbreaker. “You probably have to get back to work,” he adds lamely and she turns to look at the compound. The autumn breeze curls hair against her cheek and Bucky bites his lip to resist the urge.

“I’m free later tonight,” she says, eyes squinting a bit when she turns back to Bucky and Sam clears his throat when Bucky himself doesn’t say a word. It’s like he’s drowning in her eyes. There’s something so effortlessly patient and warm in her gaze that Bucky can’t help but just… rest. It’s almost as if he can rest in her presence.

“So is Barnes.”

“What?” He snaps back to reality harshly, as usual. “We’re supposed to—“

“Actually, I can handle it on my own. She, however—” At this, Sam gestures wildly to the trainer who stands there, the beginnings of an amused grin growing on her face—“needs help with cookies.”

“I can’t,” he croaks after a minute of stuttering, and he simply clamps his mouth shut, averting his eyes. She’s too pretty for him.

“I mean, company is always welcome,” she says, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll just get in your way and I don’t wanna mess up your cookies.”

“You can’t mess them up. I always think of something and it always works out.” She reaches over to take hold of his flesh arm and despite the coolness of the day when they’re not running their lungs out, her hand burns against his skin. She gently squeezes his elbow. “Don’t worry so much, okay? I’ll be in the kitchen after dinner in the mess.”

She lets go too soon and slips her hand back into her pocket as Bucky opens his mouth to reply.

“I’ve got to go to the pool,” she says, jerking her head towards the compound. Her eyes flicker to Sam whose grin nearly splits his face. “Bye, Sam. It was nice seeing you again, although I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other now.”

“Big building,” he says with a shrug. “Who knows?” She chuckles lightly, and then her gaze slides to Bucky.

Her eyes just seem to find his so calmly. It’s magnetic, and if he believed in love at first sight, this would be it.

“See you later, Sergeant.” She magpie salutes and he can’t help but mimic like a monkey, a lazy swipe of his finger from his brow. It’s so relaxed, so slow and he’s slouched on one hip, his metal hand on his towel, that he thinks he’s never felt so light. It’s almost routine—he could get used to this.

Man, it’s so easy with her.

Her smile brightens remarkably and she heads back to the compound with a little spring in her step.

Sam waits until she’s inside before grabbing Bucky by the neck and giving him a noogie.

“You gotta dress up nice, man,” Sam advises like he’s on the same level as Tan from Queer Eye. Bucky stares at his reflection in the floor-length mirror and frowns in response.

“We’re baking, not going to a gala.” Maybe I should take her to one. Get invited to enough of them as it is, a part of him muses, but he quickly chases that thought of his head. “Besides, she just saw us earlier today sweating like dogs so I don’t really think she’ll care if I show up in a t-shirt and shorts.”

“But this is your first date, man. You gotta dress to impress.” Sam shuffles through Bucky’s closet whilst its owner gapes at him.

“It’s not a date.”

“Yeah, and I’m not Captain America.”

“Shut up, Sam.” Bucky catches the pair of dark washed jeans and a cozy little sweater Wanda said would be cute on him. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he sighs. The warm white and the dark blue are so not his style. His style is black in different shades and fabrics and he is going to kill Sam. “This? I’ll look like—”

“Husband material. You’ll look like a straight up husband. She will cuff you on the spot,” Sam declares much to Bucky’s annoyance. “Are you gonna wear the photostatic veil Banner programmed for you?” He glances over to see Sam holding the mesh of tech, and he frowns thoughtfully.

“Should I?” He hasn’t had the opportunity to try it on, and although he knows everyone is used to his metal arm… He sighs. This is way more complicated than the forties. “Yeah. Good impression, right?” he says lamely and Sam claps him on the back, helping him seal it to his metal arm. As the nano-sized cells connect to the metal plates, a fleshy color blooms from the shoulder down and he feels like silk brushes against the tiny fibers of his arm. He can feel every single little cell, buzzing in a way that’s barely even noticeable. Bucky hopes that when he doesn’t focus on it, it’ll fade into the back of his mind.

“Atta boy. Come on. We’ve got dinner and then it’s time for your date! Wanda made paprikash.”

“Great,” Bucky intones dully, nerves biting at his stomach. He has no appetite for this. “I love paprikash.”

“We don’t sulk on first dates, Barnes.”

“It’s not a fucking date!”

After a dinner full of questions from Dr. Banner on how the photostatic veil was feeling and from everyone else on why, Bucky volunteers to do the dishes and clean up to make sure everything is spotless for when she comes in. Despite confusion among the rest of his colleagues, Sam assures them that ‘this is the plan, guys. Barnes’s got a hot date coming over.’

This, of course, only results in Bucky threatening to throw a skillet at him.

He wipes down the countertops, cleans the sink, and reorganizes the fridge while he waits for her, and he absently wonders what kind of cookies she intends to make. Chocolate chip, jam, sugar, shortbread…

Ingredients! His eyes widen and he turns to look at the dark pantries in slight horror. I should probably get them out for her. And measuring spoons, that’s what she needs, right? His stomach is in knots as he runs around the kitchen island, trying to find all the tools they might need. He tries to think of when Wanda had last made something sweet—what had she used? He ducks to pull out the biggest drawer, relieved to find three metal bowls of different sizes.

“Small, medium, large,” he murmurs under his breath, and he puts them all out beside the other instruments he thinks might be needed. A whisk, a bunch of different spoons, a glass cup and metal scoops… He glances around and tries to figure out what he’s missed before deciding to just open up every possible drawer and cupboard, and see what pricks his imagination.

He only gets to the second set of drawers when a soft chuckle catches his attention.

Whipping around, he feels his heart drop into his stomach when he spots her leaning against the doorframe. Her hair is pulled away from her face, and she has a book and aprons hugged tight to her chest.

“I didn't want to disturb you,” she says, an impish curl to her mouth. Bucky steps back from the kitchen island as she walks around and her gaze sweeps his collection. “It was cute.”

“Not many people can sneak up on me,” he says, a bit defensive as a flush makes its way up his neck. He doesn’t mean to sound like it, but maybe it’s the embarrassment of being caught that makes him oddly proud of his work.

“Not many people help me bake cookies,” she replies, standing next to him. She sets down the book and aprons down and he can catch the faint whiff of dinner at the mess hall clinging to her t-shirt. His heart hammers hard enough he’s sure even the deaf would be able to hear it as she gently plucks at different tools, thinking about what they will and won’t need.

Not the thing that looks like a weird wire version of brass knuckles, got it.

“Uh, pastry cutter,” she names, returning it to its place without a mistake. “We won’t really need it since we’re not cutting up big portions of fat.”

“Good to know.” He nods and writes that down in his head. “Anything else we don’t need?”

“We can use it all if you want,” she says with a laugh living in her voice. “It doesn’t really make any difference to me.”

“Okay, well, let’s just get started, then.”

“Aprons first.” She unfolds the two things, one white and navy, and the other black. The black one says Kiss the Cook and Bucky feels a flash of heat at the print. “Which one?”

The white and navy striped apron has a blue pocket with tiny white polka dots, the same pattern frilling the bottom and on the shoulder straps. The black, it’s clearly larger and for a man, and Bucky wonders if these were truly the only aprons she had or if she only bakes with guys she’s interested in. A flicker of jealousy runs through him. How many guys cooked with her before him?

Stop it. Not a date. Bucky shakes his head and shrugs.

“Whatever looks best on you,” he says. “Not that either of them would look bad or anything, but—”

“Thanks, Sarge.” Her eyes crinkle when she smiles big enough and she slips the black apron over her neck before sticking out the white and navy one to him. He stares at the piece of fabric for a moment before slipping his arms through and twisting his arms to tie a tight knot. She does the same and it’s pulled tight against her, Kiss the Chef smack in the middle of her chest.

“So where do we start?” He swallows because he thinks he’s just signed up for more than he bargained for. He looks at all these raw ingredients, ingredients he’s pulled because he thought it might be useful and doesn’t even know where to begin.

“First, we have to decide how many cookies and which type,” she says, pulling over the book and making space for it. She opens it up and his eyes widen at all the tabs poking out, different colours surely meaning different things. It’s an organized mess.

With a piece of scrap paper and a pencil, she writes down the number of required cookies. “Around there,” she says with a swift circle around a number bigger than Bucky had thought. “And these are the cookies we can make that everyone can eat,” she continues, writing a list down one side and then sectioning it off with a line, “these include nuts,” another section, “and these will have icing on them.”

“That’s a lot of planning for the fall equinox, ma’am,” he begins, trying not to sound daunted. She laughs, her eyes darting to his face. Her stare burns into his cheek as she shrugs.

“Hope I’m not scaring you away.”

No. Never. “Maybe a little.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do the math and teach you a few tricks, and you’ll be a natural. Promise.” He’s surprised by how easily he believes her. As she talks about all the different types of cookies, the textures and ingredients one can use, Bucky finds himself slipping. He lets her scoot closer as she shows him how to sift the dry ingredients.

“Just tap it against your hand like this,” she says and Bucky copies her. She shows him how to prep the pan, and he preheats the oven. They mix the dough with their hands, and Bucky watches as her skilled hands manipulate the oily dough she’s created like it’s second nature. He glances down at his own pile in a glass bowl that doesn’t look too shabby, and almost smiles. “Yours looks really good, Bucky.”

“Thanks.” His eyes stick to the chocolate chips and he pokes it with a half-proud smile. “I had a great teacher.” She laughs again. She’s easy to laugh and smile, and every time she does either of those things, something in him feels like it’s going to burst with light. He wishes he was like that, but at the same time, he feels brighter than he has in days. Maybe it’s something about how she treats him like any other guy, or maybe it’s that she makes him smile more than anyone has in a while.

“Well, this is only batch one and two out of like, twenty billion,” she says as they begin to shape their cookies. Bucky had ripped the parchment paper for their trays and laid them flat and while they roll these balls of chocolate chip cookie dough, he can’t help but listen to her go on and on about things she wants to talk about. Life since the Blip, the recruits, hobbies and childhood memories. He can’t help but give his two cents too, and she tilts her head as she listens, a soft smile on her face.

“You’re a great listener,” she comments as he sets the trays in the oven and closes the door. She sets the timer on her phone and begins to prepare for the next batch.

“It was all I could do for a while,” he says with a shrug. “You get good at stuff you do for a long time.” Her actions slow and she turns to stare at him. He focuses on cleaning up his work space, swallowing down the smell of butter and sugar. “Guess something came out of it,” he adds uncomfortably when the silence grows. He looks beside him, at her, where there is a smear of flour across her cheek, where she merely stands there in silence, and sighs. He’s ruined it. “Sorry.”

“Is that why you hid your hand?” she asks softly and his eyes widen noticeably. “I didn’t want to ask to make you uncomfortable, but I did wonder.” She looks down to make sure she’s measuring enough sugar and she closes her eyes for a moment, clearly cursing herself. Bucky wishes he could say something, but his mouth doesn’t click with his brain. “Forget I even brought it up. I’m sorry, I—”

“I wore it for tonight,” he blurts out and she looks at him, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s a photostatic veil Banner coded for me and… and I wore it for you.”

“Why? It’s not like I’m afraid of it.”

You should be. “I guess I just wanted to be normal for a night,” he sighs and she stops sifting for a moment to really look at him. Setting down the sieve, she leans on the counter and places the other hand on her hip, waiting for him to explain patiently. “Sam called it a date, and I think it got to my head.”

“Oh,” she breathes. He tears off the photostatic veil carefully, letting the mesh crumple in his hands and she swallows. The air is thick with an emotion neither of them can quite name and Bucky is quite sure she will never want to see him again. God, is this what it’s like to flunk a date? He sets down the mesh on a clean countertop, watching the hologram flicker as he flexes his metal fingers. They gleam in the artificial light and he hides it behind his back, shame pooling in his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t want to make it awkward for you,” he mutters and she reaches to touch his metal wrist tentatively. Kiss the Chef wrinkles against her chest and his gaze falls to the floor. He doesn’t quite know how to describe how utterly disappointed in himself he is when she steps closer, fingers curling over his. No pity in her eyes, she squeezes his palm carefully.

“I don’t want you hiding yourself away,” she murmurs, tilting her head so he is forced to look at her. His eyes stare dejectedly into hers and she smiles, using her other hand to cup his face. Powder dusts against his eyes and he squints. The smell of dough clings to her skin and she smiles fondly at him, fingers stroking his cheek. “I like you just as you are.”

“You like me?” he asks, confused, and she chuckles. “All I’ve done is help you make cookies.”

“‘Course I like you, dork. You’re hot.” A teasing bite in her tone, she taps his nose with her thumb before returning her palm to his cheek. “And I know you didn’t have control of anything in your past, and you’re trying your best, Bucky. That’s all any of us can do, now that we’re back.” Her eyes avert for a moment, and then find his again. There is a gooey softness that reminds him of molten chocolate and snow on Christmas eve. “I really do like you, you know. Have a big ol’ school girl crush on you, to be honest.”

“On me?” Why not anyone else? He’s bewildered. Sam, or that new receptionist on two, or even some other trainer because…

Frankly, Bucky thinks he’s lost all appeal to those who know him since 1945.

She takes his silence as rejection and it shows in the uncertainty that mars her face. Bucky wishes he knew how to articulate that he is insanely attracted to her and how the way she laughs makes his heart believe it can jump mountains, but instead he is stunned into a quiet that fills the kitchen. He only met her a few hours ago. How can he even begin to explain it?

“We have cookies to make,” he says instead, eyes flitting to the open ingredients and he turns his head against her hand. She springs apart from him, cold rushing to fill in the space she’s left behind as she draws her hands towards herself.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess we do.” Her face falls and she grabs the sieve, a wobbly smile built on her lips. “Forget I brought it up, then.” She begins to sift her dry ingredients once again and he mentally groans to himself. Why is he such an idiot?

He mumbles her name softly, and she pauses, turning just so to look at him.

“I like you, too,” he says with a difficulty that shouldn’t be there, because it’s true. “I know I just met you today, but you’ve already made me feel… different, I guess”

“Different?” A tentative, stronger smile begins to curl the corner of her mouth and he nods, his lips twitching upwards. His hand, flesh and warm, settles on her hip all on its own, a fluttering touch that he is completely unsure of as he gently turns her to face him fully. She’s so damn gorgeous with flour on her face and eye bags beneath her eyes that he’s sure she will inevitably make his heart burst. It pounds in his head as he tries to grab at reasons he needs to step away, to stay away, but his heart battles his head ferociously.

I’ll hurt you and I can’t stand the thought. I’ll hurt you or kill you or lose control and you can’t stop me and I don’t want to hurt you ever. His brain screams the words H.Y.D.R.A had thrown at him, the looks handlers had tossed at him flashing in his head—terrified, wild dog, monster.

I want to protect you, I want to love you, you light me up, I can protect you. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be better for you, if you could love someone like me. His heart whispers, louder than the silence. It’s the forties boy in him, the son his mama raised and the brother Rebecca loved, and he can recall the faces he’s adored—Steve, Ma, Becca.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Bucky murmurs and she hesitantly touches his face. His eyes flutter at her gentle touch and she takes it as an invitation to cup his face once again. “It’s just… you.”

“I’m not special,” she tells him bashfully, words brushing against his lips as he closes his eyes for a moment against her hand. When he opens them once again, he finds her watching, transfixed. There is a new serenity in her eyes, one that tells him she is completely enchanted on something that cannot be him—he is anything but an angel.

“You really are.”

“Now, now, Sergeant Barnes.” Her voice is warm as whiskey and he can get drunk off the sound of her laugh. He can feel her smile just by how her energy shifts and Bucky falls, for the first time in his life; he falls harder than he ever has. “Go on like that and you’ll get anything you want from me.”

“Even permission to kiss the chef?” Bucky’s words, thick and hot, jumble in his mouth. Her nose brushes his, sparks tingling in his veins as her hand trails to cusp the back of his neck.

“That permission will always be granted without question.”

He kisses her softly, hesitance laced through his lips and it is only when she crushes him against her does he bury his hand in his hair and kiss her like she is meant to be kissed: feverently, reverently, forever reminded that Bucky Barnes is lucky enough to be completely in love with her.

Bucky is quite sure Sam is in love with his girlfriend in the fact that he’s in love with the fact that his girlfriend is possibly in love with Bucky. Bucky himself doesn’t think that she could possibly be in love with him, but Sam is more than eager to prove otherwise.

“Sam asked what I’m getting everyone for Christmas.” She’s on the shoulder press, the muscles in her back flexing and waning in a slick sheen of sweat while Bucky completes his set of push-ups.

“He’s thinking too far ahead,” he mutters. “It’s only the start of November.”

“Well, you know him. I think he just wants an opinion on what I’m getting you.” Standing up, she grabs her water bottle, squirting a stream of ice-cold water into her mouth before laying down beside him. “What do you want for Christmas?”

He pauses mid-way up from his two-hundredth push-up. “You don’t need to get me anything, doll.” The nickname is still a bit strange on his tongue but he thinks he can get used to it.

“Yeah, but I wanna get you something.” She juts out her bottom lip in an adorable pout, a telltale sign she wants him to kiss her and he leans on one hand to press a quick kiss onto her lips before resuming his workout. He knows the signs on what she wants fairly easily now. He’s grateful she’s spelt it out so many times for him.

Playing with his fingers means she wants attention, a pout is a kiss, suctioning kisses to the neck means she’s feeling some sorta way and he’s more than happy to oblige that feeling. There’s a long list of little tells that Bucky’s starting to think it’s a whole other language.

“How about cookies?” he deflects and she rolls her eyes, getting up and sucking down some more water.

“I make cookies for everyone. You deserve something special,” she argues and he sighs. “I really want to make our first Christmas special.” He lies down and pushes on his palms, stretching out in a cobra pose while she rolls over into the splits. He pulls back into child’s pose while she leans forward and he’s thankful for the silence.

What do I want? he wonders. What do I want that I don’t have already? His eyes drift to her form only a few centimetres away and he thinks, Nothing.

“I’ve got everything I want right here,” he intones seriously, crawling forward and she turns to him, eyes wide. Sitting upright, she changes legs. “I guess I want nothing to change.”

“Dork,” she mumbles, and a sticky heat pools in his face as she pokes his cheek. He sits down and she offers him his water bottle with a shake. He shakes his head, the argument that his own is only in the locker room. “Come on. Locker room’s too far away from me.” A sweat drop tracks down her jaw and he smiles softly, brushing it away. Legs crossed, he takes it without taking a sip. “Besides, I told you you can take what you want. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” he says, knowing full well it just doesn’t feel right to take back the hoodies she’s stolen from him. Maybe one by one, he’ll take them back and wear them for at least twenty four hours before giving them back. Then, his scent will stay with her. “What do you want for Christmas, then?”

“I—” Her sentence is cut off by an alert on his phone, one they both know not to ignore and she sighs. There is disappointment, their little bubble popped with a simple text. He sets down her water bottle to get it, gut dropping at the message displayed on his screen. “How long is it?”

“Emergency response in Cairo, I don’t know,” he murmurs. Pocketing his phone, he grabs his towel and rushes back to her. He grabs her face and presses a desperate kiss against her mouth, eyes squeezing shut and she mumbles words he can’t decipher against his grieving lips. Her fingers touch his jaw gently, a reminder that he must go, and he pulls away. “I’ll text you as soon as I can.”

“Stay safe.”

He smiles shakily and promises that he will.

“Barnes. We got a package for you.” Sharon Carter’s voice catches his attention from his sniper post and he blinks away the winter sun from his eyes. No movement still. “Merry Christmas.”

The blonde extends a box towards him, a slight smile curling her lips and he frowns at the stark bleakness of it. Black, and absorbing no light, it feels heavier than he thought it’d be.

“Thanks.” He shifts, his bones clicking as he glances out the tiny slit of a window. There hasn’t been movement for weeks. Crossing his legs, he sets the box before him and a tiny blue hologram pops up from a tiny hole in the center. His eyebrows furrow together as it scans his face and he squints.

“Facial scan complete: Hello, James Buchanan Barnes.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes in his small little perch and he still thinks it’s weird without having the side effect of Stark in his suit chasing after him to hear the A.I. but he shoves that uncomfortable feeling of the dead man out of his head. That is too much regret to unpack right now on a mission.

The box unfolds, the mechanical whir humming in his ears and a waft of sweet sugar rushes into his face as he peers within.

Cookies. Sugar cookies, butter cookies, frosting and crystal sprinkles, gingerbread, snickerdoodle, a note in her writing.

“She requested I ask you to read her note before eating the treats,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says and Bucky pulls out her note. “She also requested that you stay safe, despite not being home for Christmas.”

Taking the blue cue card, he sighs at the mere sight of her writing. His heart aches much more than he realized and he wonders if she misses him half as much as he misses her.

Buck,

Times may be tough while we’re apart, but absence only makes the heart grow fonder. Stay safe, Sarge, and come back to me.

Merry Christmas. Forever thinking of you.

When he bites into one of those cookies, he melts into the wall he’s leaning to and closes his eyes, just imagining her standing in the kitchen with that Kiss the Chef apron tied tightly around her. The taste brings back memories, and brings him back home to New York, to her. Home, he muses wistfully, home is waiting for me with her laugh and smell and eyes. Home.

Bucky drops his bags as soon as he’s off the quinjet because he spots the dark blur that is his girlfriend in a track pants and a big poofy parka running down the road towards him. He barely gets his arms up in time before she’s flying into his arms and he lets out a grunt, stumbling back as he flings his arms around her waist and holds onto her tightly. Her legs squeeze his waist as she burrows her head into his neck and Sam laughs as he unpacks the equipment.

“Bucky,” she says, pulling back and his arms hold her to him still, gently supporting her back and her bottom. Her hand cups her face and she brushes hair out of his face, tracing a healing cut on his lip. “You’re home.” She embraces him again, thighs tightening as if she’s afraid to see him leave again and he merely closes his eyes, letting the first day of 2024 snow against his skin. “You’re home.”

“I’m home, lover,” he promises, and she laughs, face wet when she steps back onto solid ground again. He opens his eyes to admire her, a vision; a sight for sore eyes from the arms length he holds her at. The snow melts as it lands on her skin but it nestles in her hair, a frame of white for her pretty face that he’s missed far too much. “God, I’m home.”

She laughs, a watery smile surfacing as she leans up to kiss him. They are rapid, wet with emotion and she smiles against his lips, just laughing in relief. “I love you so much,” she whispers and he blinks, drawing back. Her face is the epitome of happiness as he gawks at her and she wipes at her eyes. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just… I love you.” She doesn’t look afraid, only confident in her feelings for him and he scoops her up, his heart bursting with sunlight.

“I love you, too,” he whispers into her ear, embracing her tightly. She lets out a tiny exhale at his strength but hugs him back tightly anyway. What is love if not hugs that barely allow you to breathe and kisses until you’re dizzy? Bucky doesn’t know. “God, I love you.”

Bucky learns a lot dating her.

She hums when she cuts his hair—which she does every so often—and likes to cuddle in her sleep. She bakes for every occasion she can think of and likes to spoil Bucky rotten. Although their jobs often keep them apart during the day, Bucky likes to just watch her in her environment, ordering the recruits around.

She has a different sport she favours for every season. Jogging in the fall, hockey in the winter, tennis in the spring and swimming in the summer. More often than not, she drags a happy Bucky with her to the rec centre and he’s more than happy to participate, whether he shows it or not.

She expresses her feelings through cooking, which Bucky has learnt the hard way. One time, they got into an argument over something stupid—he can’t even remember what started it—and came to the kitchen at 2AM to see her sitting at the kitchen island crying her eyes out and surrounded by baskets of muffins.

“Lover,” he had called out softly, already too loud for the eerie time between midnight and morning. “You’ve got a bit of a muffin problem.”

“I know,” she had replied dejectedly. “I don’t know what to do with all of it, Buck.”

They had donated it to shelters around the city, going on their own from street to street with baskets full of muffins. It becomes ritual, to have days where they bring baked goods and homemade meals to those who need it.

She doesn’t really know how to take care of herself, based on how she treats herself during assessment season, so Bucky has to pick up her slack and feed her more than caffeine. He feeds her diets that are balanced and healthy, and makes meals that he learns in his spare time to share with her while she shouts herself raw at the soldiers.

He remembers her favourite foods and music, and knows just how to put an exhausted girl to bed with makeup and bra off. He remembers to write when he’s gone for too long during missions, and he remembers her birthday, favourite colour, and which show she’s currently obsessing over. He always downloads the seasons to catch up so he understands what she’s talking about.

It’s safe to assume he knows when to propose, hell, he’d been ready the night they first baked together, but he just has to remember to catch her ring size. There’s so much of his mind cluttered with these useless yet utterly adorable facts about her that he can’t bring himself to delete, that it’s always the one thing he forgets to do.

Here is where his friends come in.

They’re all hanging in the lounge on a lazy autumn day. Their one year anniversary is coming up and Bucky and Sam are watching football while she talks to Wanda about potential plans.

“Popcorn,” Sam says without tearing his eyes off the screen, shoving the bowl in their general direction. Bucky grabs it unceremoniously, popping a few into his mouth while she twists in his grip to pass the bowl to Wanda.

“I have cookies cooling, boys,” she warns them and Wanda chuckles. The witch puts the bowl back on the table next to the empty nacho plate while Bucky’s girlfriend decides to curl against him, and his arm around her waist squeezes her close. His hand trails down to her thigh, hoisting her legs up while she peppers kisses on the underside of his jaw.

“I don’t understand anything about this game,” Wanda intones once commercials hit, amused when Sam lets out a shout of disappointment. Beeping from the kitchen, a timer, breaks whatever retort he was prepared to throw back at the Sokovian and Bucky lets out a whine when his girlfriend unwinds from his lap to get up.

“Sorry, babe, but I gotta get them before they get too cold,” she says and Bucky frowns before nodding. He cups the back of her neck, and she kisses him quickly before pulling away and skipping to the kitchen. Wanda immediately crawls into the space on the other side of Bucky on the couch, pulling out her phone while Sam leans over to whisper.

“She sends me pictures all the time,” Wanda begins nefariously and Sam pulls out a strip of paper, a line in pencil across it. As he rolls it up into a ring, Wanda leans over to show Bucky pictures of the girls’ conversation. “She adores all of them, but she cannot decide.”

“And here you go, man.” Sam gives the paper ring to Bucky. “Got it while she was taking a nap.”

“She wants silver rather than gold,” Wanda says.

“And she doesn’t care about a venue.”

“But she likes the idea of a seasonal wedding.”

“Dude, she wants your babies.”

“She wants two or three kids.”

Bucky’s head begins to spin as they continue to bombard him with facts or proof that she actually wants to spend a life with him, and he blinks, staring at the commercials that still flash in his face. Grabbing Wanda’s phone, he focuses on the images that his girlfriend had sent the witch, gorgeous silver rings with diamonds, some with less, some with more, and simply tunes the two out, trying to internally decide what he should buy her. Meanwhile, Sam and Wanda have fallen into some argument about whether or not Bucky’s wedding is going to be a summer or winter wedding, when a new voice pierces the air.

“Who wants cookies?”

Immediately, a hush falls over them. Bucky tears his eyes away from the phone just as Wanda snatches it back just in time for her to appear, striding into the room with the smell of cookies rushing in after her. She sends them an odd glance, and the trio of Avengers merely separate as she sets down the plate. A fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies are stacked ontop of a porcelain plate and Sam lunges forward to grab one while she picks one up delicately and resumes her place on Bucky’s lap.

“What were you three talking about?” she asks, amused, and he takes the cookie with a click of his mechanical arm. She tucks her head underneath his chin while his hand goes back to her thigh and he bites into the cookie.

“Nothing you gotta worry about,” he says. The game starts again and she can’t pipe up to argue without Sam telling them to shut up, so she doesn’t. Instead, she rests her head on his chest and Bucky hopes she doesn’t hear his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

By the tiny smile he can feel against his chest, she can hear it.

Bucky holds the ring in his pocket for four months.

He had bought it the very next day after the football game because if he had let it sit, the nerves would’ve gotten to him, but now, new nerves are causing him to become paranoid: waiting for the perfect moment, scared that she’ll find out.

He thinks the proposal should be grand and all about how much he loves her and how much she’s shown him and loved him and it needs to be perfect. It is anything but that.

“Morning,” she whispers as her eyes flutter open. She’s laying against him in their comfy, toasty bed, and he doesn’t want to move for Christmas festivities except they both have to—a charity breakfast for veterans where Bucky is speaking, then a novice hockey game because his girlfriend just had to teach the cutest little seven year old boys how to utterly destroy their opponents, and then dinner.

He traces shapes along the slope of her back lazily, craning his head to look at him and she smiles dazedly.

“Hey, lover.” He grins easier now, and when his smile splits his face, her own does too. “We’ve got a day ahead of us.”

“A day that’s way too long for Christmas,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek against his chest. “Convince me to get up.” It’s still dark outside, a blissful 5AM full of snow delicately fluttering outside their window. He wraps a leg around her waist, pulling her close while she dozes and she lets out a contented sigh at his arm draped over her side.

“Don’t want to,” he replies, eyes closing. “Want you to stay right here with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Kinda want to stay here forever,” he continues drowsily, eyes fluttering shut and she shakes in his arms with a silent laugh. “Wish everyday could be like this.”

“You wake up earlier, and maybe it could be,” she retorts. Of course the early bird in her is perfect for her morning drills with her recruits, but Bucky prefers to sleep in like the owl he is, and he lets out a snort, kissing her hairline. “Just saying.”

“I’m too busy catching up on your shows.” His arm tightens around her.

“Catching up. Liar. I know you were up at 2 AM this morning binge-watching.” She tilts her head up, eyes opening. A spark lights up her face and a mischievous curl of her lip tells Bucky she’s about to say something that’s going to make him blush. “Just admit you like Gossip Girl and go, babe.”

“Alright, I like it.” Rolling his eyes, he pecks her forehead and she smiles victoriously. It’s so adorable that Bucky, with less than three hours of sleep, adds, “God, I want to marry you.”

“What?”

Oh.

Shit.

Bucky is suddenly more awake than if someone had thrown him into an ice bath. She almost throws herself off of him, sitting up and he follows her with his eyes as she twists to turn on the lights. Golden light paints her a goddess, and her hair is messy atop her head as she stares at him with wide eyes.

Bucky sits up slowly, the blanket pooling around their waists, and she blinks at him as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Do you not want to get married?” he asks slowly, almost afraid. Although he’s nearly 100% certain she wants to be with him, a part of him still bites at his stomach with doubt. “Have… have I been looking at this wrong?” He doesn’t tear his eyes away, holding this staring contest as she continues to stare at him, lips slightly parted and he reaches over to touch her hand. “You okay, lover?”

“You wanna marry me?” she asks, and he nods slowly, fire rising in his stomach and crawling up his neck as he makes a mental note never to keep secrets from her because when he’s been running on three hours of sleep, he likes to spill his guts where he feels safe.

“I… I got a ring and everything.” He turns to open the drawer on his nightstand and pulls out the dark navy box, velvet brushing against his sleep-numb fingers. “Wanda and Sam helped, and I was going to make this a big thing, but—” He’s tripping over his words as he pries it open, and he watches as her gaze falls to the silver ring, the exact one from one of the pictures Wanda had shown him—”I know I don’t really deserve you, and god, you deserve better than a proposal at 5 AM but I really do want to marry you.”

“Buck—”

“I love you. I love you so much it’s crazy because I didn’t think anyone could love me, or that I could open my heart to someone like you, and I know you deserve more than this, a better man, but—”

“Bucky—”

“All I’m trying to say is… thank you. For loving me.” His sleep addled brain tries to scramble for more things to say, and he smiles, almost sad but so, so, very much in love. “Thank you for bringing laughter into my life again.”

“Bucky, you fucking dork,” are her first words and he blinks as she lunges into his body. The blankets twist and her warm muscles wrap around him as she peppers kisses all over his face. “You wonderful, wonderful man. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you.” His arm props him up against her body as he holds onto the box and she straddles his waist, twisting to look at the box. Her smile is tender as she takes out the ring and slides it onto her finger and he smiles bashfully when she shows him the fit. He lets the velvet box slip from his hand to cup her waist and he sighs blissfully when she leans to kiss him.

“Remember when I asked what you wanted for Christmas last year?” she murmurs against his lips and he smiles as the cool metal of her new ring trails down his neck to his shoulder. “And you said you wanted nothing to change…”

“I guess I just didn’t want anything more than you,” he whispers fondly and she smiles, eyes closing as she knocks her forehead against his. “But this one change I can handle.”

“Yeah?” She opens her eyes to stare deeply into his and he smiles, a warm curl to his lip.

“Yeah.”

2K notes · View notes

valancyjane · 4 years

Text

Nusquam aliud est vertere (Nowhere else to turn) Chapter 47

‘Harry sighs. “Must you two constantly rub our noses in your overblown romance?” he snipes; his remonstration carries a sharp edge that is markedly unlike his usually equable temperament.

Poor Harry – he is taking on too much. He still looks dog-tired: he mustn’t have gotten a wink of sleep last night. Hermione doesn’t get a chance to soothe her old friend’s unrest before Pansy jumps in.

“Leave off, Lightning Bolt! Just because you’re a bitter bachelor – it doesn’t give you the right to piss all over our friends’ happiness,” she censures. “Look to what’s lacking in your own life before you criticize other people’s.”

Harry stands up, gripping the edge of his sturdy desk as he snarls, “Going to bang that drum again, Pansy? Since when did you become such an advocate for sloppy sentiment, anyway?”.

“Around the same time you first had that stick lodged up your arse, Harry,” Pansy retorts with vim. “What’s your problem with me? You’ve been grimacing in my direction ever since I walked in.”

Harry sucks in a deep, angry breath. “You want to know what my problem is? Go back five years, Pansy – back to the day you were oh-so-willing to give me up to Voldemort without a second’s hesitation. And yet you’re waltzing around here now like that never happened – as if saving your own skin wasn’t more important than overthrowing a demonic terror,” he rasps furiously.

The room has fallen utterly silent; even Mac has ceased his diligent chomping as he soaks up the sudden melodrama with astounded eyes.

Oh, Harry. There’s more to this than meets the eye, Hermione sadly ponders.

Pansy unfreezes, precisely laying down her plate and wooden cutlery. She swivels elegantly off the desk, standing to face the angry man behind it. Her carefully blank eyes and rigid spine betray her turmoil.

“I apologize, Auror Potter. For both my reprehensible actions that day, and my oversight in not asking your pardon sooner. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to enjoy your lunch with your friends.” Pansy smiles tightly and manages to not look a single one of her ex-schoolmates in the eye as she glides toward the door, opening and closing it almost noiselessly.

Everyone remaining in the office stares at Harry with varying degrees of concern and accusation. Before any of them can speak, Harry fists at his hair and moans in self-directed frustration.

“I know - I’m an arsehole, alright? I’m sorry – I don’t know what came over me… just seeing her sitting there, baiting me… swinging her legs…” he growls anew.

“I have a fair idea what’s going on,” Theo murmurs, as Harry’s head whips around to glare at him.

“I’d best go after her; you really hurt her then, Harry,” Hermione begins to slide off Draco’s lap, but his arm hooking around her waist holds her in position.

“No you won’t, Granger – Potter is going to find her, and apologize profusely,” Draco sternly intones. “He will do whatever it takes to restore her equilibrium, and bring her back to his office. Go on, Harry – run along,” he urges.

To Hermione’s surprise, Harry hustles to the door without a word of objection, leaving it ajar in his haste.

“His Excellency Master Harry Potter speaks cruelly to the Perfectly Presented Mistress Pansy Parkinson,” Macdolas sorrowfully remarks. He looks longingly at Pansy’s half-finished plate, swiftly dropping his avaricious eyes as Draco frowns at him.

“Well, that escalated quickly, didn’t it?” Blaise jabs a chopstick in the air as he announces, “I’m running a betting pool: I’ll stump up fifty Galleons that those two will be rolling in the sack by the end of the Spring Equinox Ball. Any takers?”.

“Blaise!” Hermione’s squawk is drowned out as Draco and Theo simultaneously reply, “You’re on.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994118/chapters/65246014

#draco x hermione #fanfic #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #romance #post-hogwarts #harry potter #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini #theo nott #parry #hansy #house elves #chinese lunch #harry x pansy #domestic dramione

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lights-up-divine · 3 years

Text

How Forbidden

My (admittedly late) submission for Friday Night Frights 6/14/21.

A recently conquered princess sents out on a journey to find her secret lover.

~3.5K Words

“Your Highness, it isn’t only your reputation at stake, but our entire peoples'” the knight insisted with a grave expression.

“My reputation shouldn’t be at risk for loving another woman,” she spat back, words shaking and unsteady. “You can’t tell me that there’s any sense to it!”

“I cannot,” the knight admitted. “Nor can I do anything to stop you, unless the Duke orders so. Whatever you do, don’t let it come to that.”

Even though Lady Diamond knew the risks she still couldn't abandon her lover. Her knight had been leaning close to her hear, whispering his urgent warnings as she fingered the letters of her love, but when her ladies got back from the powder room he jumped back. Like he had always been a respectful distance behind her. Like he hadn't watched her read intimate letters night after night. Like he was nothing but a loyal guardsman.

Most of Lady Diamond's ladies were orphans or otherwise left with nowhere to go. The recent absorption of the Kingdom of Ardenne into the Empire hadn't helped their situation, in fact, it had changed everything completely. In the new Dukedom of Ardenne-Chance, no one knew their place. Suddenly the beloved princess was nothing but a Grand Duchess, and countesses and dukes found their rank completely diminish. Diamond was trying her best to find them husbands or stable living, but it was hard.

In the evening light of her dressing room she and her ladies, under the watchful eye of her loyal old guard, played little games and talked of meaningless gossip. Even though their empirical absorption had been bloodless, the meer might empire had warranted an immediate surrender from Diamond's brother, it had still rocked their world. Little inconsequential games and talk really helped Diamond and her ladies feel at ease.

Diamond lost soundly, but with good cheer. By the time the sun went down the ladies were in good humour and left to their respective chambers with a spring in their steps. Diamond was left in her dressing room with Sir Garrette, everyone knew that he would try nothing with the lady, he was like an uncle to her. When everyone left Diamond left the game table and practically sprinted to her writing desk. From a secret compartment, unlocked by a little key that Diamon kept on her at all times, Diamond unlocked it and took out the most recent letter.

"My love, my heart, my everything. While I am a patient gentlewoman my heart yearns for you, and I have decided that I would like to meet you. I understand that you might be apprehensive my love, I can see the cute little frown on her face as I write this, I cannot live without you, my dear. And I realize now that I have not been living. Ever since we first met at the masquerade in the capital I have been dead. Seeing you, dancing with you again, touching your bare cheek with my hand, will bring me to life again my love."

"Please if you have any desire to see me come to the Equinox Mascequrade in the capital, I have had an invitation sent to you and your family. I know parties such as these are only for adultery and debauchery but it is the only way for our love to remain secret. If you don't come I will continue to love you from afar. I will be wearing the deep blue coat trimmed in silver and a gown of your favourite colour. I cannot wait to see you trimmed in jewels and diamonds. The thought of you sends my heart into shivers

Your servant,

Imperial Gentlewoman

Lady Diamond swooned in her chair, reading and rereading the passionate words. Finally, she would be meeting her imperial lover outside of the borders of secret letters and messages. As the gentlewoman had predicated Diamond was a bit nervous, but excited as well. Her heart quickened in her breast. When they had last met Ardenne had just become the Dukedom of Ardenne-Chance. Her little brother had been whining, at seven years old his only concern had been why he wasn't called "king" anymore. Only Diamond and her mother, the regent, understood what was truly at stake. Diamond had been so focused on trying to ingratiate herself and her ladies with the imperial nobility that she hadn't noticed when a masked gentlewoman led her away. They had danced, oh they had danced, but before she knew it Diamond was home, her imperial partner gone across the mountains. When the first letter came, Diamond had been ecstatic.

The next day Castle deAudinot was in an uproar of packing. Beds, linens, servents, and gifts were being loaded onto balloon wagons to be lifted over the mountains. With her mother supervising the packing and the final alterations of their ball dresses, Lady Diamond was left minding her brother, the boy Duke, Isaac. Unlike other little children with incredible power Isaac, Diamond thought, was very well mannered and polite. Always minding his tutors and his governess.

Diamond's ladies doted on Isaac, asking him about books he read and asking him to try their homemade sweets. Isaac loved the attention, but was still bashful, as a boy of 8 usually was. Diamond looked down at the commotion with a smile, she was sure that Isaac would be an amazing Duke when he was older.

Isaac's guard, Sir Patrick, stood near the door with Garratte, both knowing that the coming days would bring stress. Everyone was trying to keep their minds off of the chaos to come. Even Diamond, she occupied her hands and her mind with what seemed like a meaningless craft. "Gentlewoman" was what her lover called herself. Meaning that both gender and class stood in the way of them being together. Diamond was the Grand Duchess of Ardenne-Chance, first in line to her little brother's thrown. She didn't care, but being of a lower rank probably meant that the gentlewoman didn't have the comforts that Diamond was used to. Even the imperial family probably didn't have some of the things that Diamond was used to. Namely jewels. Ardenne-Chance was nothing but mountains, beautiful mountains sure, but mountains nonetheless. But inside of their blue-gray rocks housed a fortune. Sapphires, rubies, emeralds, agates, and even her namesake, diamond, were found in blunk in the Chance Mountains. Lady Diamond's mother, the regent, suspected their wealth was part of the reason the empire had wanted them in the first place.

In anticipation of their meeting Diamond was making her gentlewoman a pocket watch. Well, the watch had been made by a watchmaker, but Diamond was decorating it. Spread out on a work table was a wealth of multi-covered diamonds. Only diamonds, when her lover looked at the watch she wanted her to think of her. But, Diamond couldn't help but think, she may already be used to such luxuries. She had been having doubts for months now. Her "gentlewoman" seemed too educated, too serious, too philosophical to be a simple gentlewoman. Diamond knew that her lover might be lying about her identity, but she didn’t care. She loved her “gentlewoman”, no matter who she was.

Diamond did up the watch face with dark blue and white diamonds, making miniature mounts that shimmered in the light. Their white caps were like a dusting of fresh snow, and their blue expanse was breathtaking. It was the Chance mountains. When her lover used the watch, Diamond had also decorated the hands with blue diamond dust and the numbers with white, she would see Diamond’s birthplace and the most important and beautiful place to her. It was the perfect gift, and it would never break, not with the new jewelry epoxy that had been developed recently by court inventors.

And it was finished just in time. Diamond hardly had time to slip the gift into a papered box and into her pocket before she had to bundle up her brother and her ladies into a half dozen fine balloon coaches. With the guiding fire being controlled by an expert balloonist they glided over the mountains in style, passing over tiered farms and glittering mountainside mines. As they passed over villages Diamond leaned out of the carriage window to wave, savoring the sight of her subjects waving back. Her mother had been the main driver of the unification treaty but Diamond had worked diligently from the sidelines, keeping everyone happy and open-minded, all for the good of her people. When they were flying over the poorer mountain communities, villages packed tightly in rocky outcroppings and nestled onto small plateaus Diamond dung into her purse. Children ran under the carriage hoping to catch the luxuries she threw out. From the other carriages as well the rain began. Even though the economy of Ardenne-Chance was quite tightly controlled, the wealth of gems could lead to rapid deflation if left alone, the nobles still tried to give back whenever they could. From her carriage Diamond threw crystalized roses and elegantly shaped sapphires, waving all the while. It was the highlight of her day, knowing that a simple handout from her would prevent starvation for several seasons. And for her mother, the regent, it was a guarantee that there would be less grain on the national poor service.

After two days of constant travel, they were finally at the capital. Verdun was an amazing city, just as it had to be. Its white spires and paved roads were a testament to the empire’s power. The power to build up cities out of nothing, to give everyone a home, and still have money left over for huge palaces and museums. The Ardenne-Chance delegation touched down in front of the Eastsinger Palace. It was an imposing, but surprisingly beautiful place. Large glass windows and towers carved out of purple-hued rock. The moat was full of crystal clear water with flowers growing from the depths.

“I’ve always hated this place,” Diamond’s mother, Gwen, whispered in her ear, “Pretending they are all nice and airy, while in truth their hearts are as cold as ice.”

Not all of their hearts Diamond thought.

Palace servants and even some nobles immediately flooded out of the front doors to help them get their things in order. Gwen had been shocked when the invitation to the Equinox Masquerade came, but she had taken it in stride. She had arranged for them to arrive a week early for diplomatic meetings, ceremonies, and games. Diamond and her brother were going to be busy, but she had made sure to clear her schedule the morning after the ball. Normally, back in Ardenne-Chance, Diamond was busy reviewing policy, talking to the council, and asking the citizenry how legislation affected them. In the empire, they had no official duties, but perhaps the work they would be doing would be harder. Diamond was naturally kind, but she had been taught cunning and intrigue by her mother. Her mother was confident in her skills of subterfuge and diplomacy, but Diamond was nervous about dealing with the imperial nobles. They were said to be more cunning than Ardenne-Chance nobles, and Diamond just hoped that she didn’t accidentally get caught up in any imperial intrigues.

Diamond got to her rooms without problem, though she did walk a little faster than normal. The imperial guard seemed large and unwilling, without a smile anywhere near his face. Her ladies also seemed nervous, Diamond’s lady of honor, Prudent, practically bolted the door once they were inside. The rest of the ladies had to be escorted to their own chambers, but Prudent was sleeping with Diamond. She normally did, the nights in Ardenne-Chance got cold even when they were indoors, so it was nice to sleep next to another person.

“There is tea in an hour, we should change quickly,” Prudent said, slightly out of breath.

Diamond tried to slow her racing heart because she knew Prudent was right. Another downside of their packed schedule was that they would have no time to catch their breaths. Quickly, in time for tea, Diamond and Prudent changed. Diamond, knowing that her mother wanted to make a show, bedecked herself in a light blue silk gown with gold trim and matching gold and sapphire rings, bracelets, and a tiara. Prudent was richly dressed in yellow, but not that richly dressed. Diamond found the rules on her lady’s dress were ridiculous, with the number of gems that Diamond wore there was no way they could outshine her, but her mother didn’t think like that.

As they were walking to tea, escorted by two more ladies and guards, Diamond looked around the castle. The walls were covered in rich tapestries and the floors in gleaming wood. Diamond couldn’t imagine the wealth of servants that were needed to keep up with everything. Beautiful paintings were hung on each corner, but Diamond thought their subjects ruined the image. At one corner there was a large portrait of the imperial royal family, the Cold Emperor with his dark furious stare, the Eternal Bride Queen with her youthful smile and blushing cheeks even at 55, the Mysterious Twins one with a dark smile and the other with a playful smirk, and the Freezing Princess she stared out with piercing brown eyes seemingly aware that she would have to step over her brothers to get the imperial throne. While the Queen was beautiful and happy, the rest of the family sent chills down Diamond’s spine. She was happy when they finally sat down for tea in a comfortable green papered sitting room.

After tea, it was the drafting of joint legislation with her mother and Isaac, after the legislation was done there was dinner, after dinner, there was a small play to attend. The next morning Diamond got up and did it all over again. The only thing that kept her going, through the odd looks and lingo she didn’t understand, was the letter she got from her lover.

Again the fact that the letter was able to appear inside of her writing desk testifies that her lover wasn’t a simple gentlewoman. Perhaps she had an important position in the palace? Diamond didn’t know how else a random woman would be able to have access to her, a Grand Countess’s, chambers. Still, that didn’t stop her from soaring the letter.

My heart, it is a happy day now that you are here. Thought guilt creeps into my thoughts. I know you, I have seen you laughing, sparkling in your gowns, about the palace but you have not seen me. Even if you did see me you would not know me, and I would cry at the thought of your chocolatey diamond eyes sliding over me like I was a stranger to me. Still, soon you will know me, just as much as I know you. My mask shall be in the style of a golden eagle and I shall lift my wings for you, my love. Soaring above the clouds is nothing if you aren’t there with me.

Soon, my dear, soon. Wait for me,

Imperial Gentlewoman

Diamond was waiting, and she was waiting patiently. Every night, before crawling into bed with Prudent, she brushed the smooth, silky purple feather velvet of her dress every night and tried on her amethyst studded mask. The ball couldn’t come sooner.

Eventually, the ball did come, and the Ardenne-Chance delegation met in the regent’s rooms to get ready. Even though Diamond was a natural leader she let her mother take the lead. Her ladies, her little brother’s entourage, Gwen’s own ladies, and other various Ardeen, paid rapt attention as Gwen spoke. She and Isaac were at the center of the room, Gwen telling them who and who not to speak to and in what way, and Isaac just standing there in his little cream and diamond suit looking adorable. Isaac had been brought along to every important meeting and legislative drafting, Gwen thought that it was important for him to learn what it was like.

With the strategy meeting over, everyone put on their masks. Full face masks were the dress code, but everyone could tell they were from Ardenne-Chance. No one else would be wearing as many jewels.

Getting into the marble ballroom, Diamond was stunned and Isaac audibly gasped. Even though she had been in the ballroom before, it always stunned her. It was in excellent taste. Gold liveried servants glided around holding trays of crystal glasses full of golden wine and the band played on a circular stage in the middle of the bright place. The high ceiling was covered in skylights, letting in silver moonlight that contrasted nicely with all of the gold.

Diamond had already arranged everything, within her mother’s guidelines of course. From the last masquerade, she knew the routine. Plenty of flirty buoyed by plenty of alcohol. Everyone drinking and dancing. Diamond had pre-scheduled her dances, as was the custom, but she had arranged it so they carried her further and further away from her friends and family. Her dances also allowed her to scan the entire ballroom, looking for a golden eagle mask or deep blue coat. When her dances were running out, she had scheduled 15 in advance, Diamond started getting worried. The count she was dancing with was sweet, but she wasn’t looking for a sweet man, she was looking for her lover.

The end of her dances came up and Diamond was left with tears forming in her eyes on the edge of the dance floor. She could see Prudent on the other end of the ballroom and Diamond had just started walking toward her when someone tapped her shoulder. Before she turned around Diamond prepared an appropriate response, tapping a Grand Countess on the shoulder was an odd gesture of impotence and Diamond was kind of scared. But when she turned around, Diamond’s heart melted. She should have known who would be so bold as to tap her on the shoulder.

From the ground up she was wearing a modern light blue gown, royal blue coat with gold buttons, and an elegant tapered gold mask with golden feathers. For the first time in her life Diamond was speechless and it seems like her lover was as well. Diamond didn’t consider herself especially attractive, especially with the mask, but her lover seemed blinded by beauty.

“May-,” her lover paused as her breath hitched, “May I have the next dance, your grace?”

Unlike the confident passion of her letter in real life, her lover seemed nervous. They didn’t dance on the main floor, instead, they danced off of the floor and out of the ballroom. They didn’t speak while they were walking, only the retreating sounds of the ball and their own footsteps. Diamond was aching to rip off her lover’s mask and finally see the face of her beloved, but she was patient. Instead, she let her lover lead her down narrow halls and a few of what she assumed were secret passages. There was no time to ask where they were going, Diamond just had to trust her lover.

Eventually, they got to a small balcony overlooking the city. Unlike in Ardenne-Chance, where the mountains seemed dark and haunting, in the empire, the lights of the city were clustered close together. Lantern bearers were comets streaking across the city and clubs were stars, sparkling in the darkness. Her lover leaned over the railing and when Diamond leaned in close her lover put her arm across her shoulder. The warmth of her coat was intoxicating, Diamond smiled and looked upon the golden mask.

“Thank you for coming, my love, I know that the journey must have been tedious and you have no great love for the empire,” Diamond looked away from her lover’s shining brown eyes. Her mother still blamed the stress of the empire for driving her father into an early grave, but while Diamond was sad about her father’s passing and the situation she found herself in, she was quite neutral on the empire. Their armies were brutal, yes, and their emperor was cruel and callous, but no one can deny their conquered territories prospered after their rule.

“I would go anywhere, and do anything for you.” Diamond blushed as she took off her mask. Her face was a picture of love and devotion.

Her lover took her hands into hers and faced her, “No, my jewel, it is I who will do everything for you.”

The gentlewoman reached up to her mask, Diamond’s heart jumped, but when she took it off it was Diamond’s turn to audibly gasp. Brown eyes that glittered with heat and passion, and an expression like melted ice. Even though the woman before her looked thousands more cheerful and lovely Diamond still recognized her.

“But you are the imperial princess,” Diamond stammered, “You are to be empress.”

“Yes,” Princess Jordan said, her voice melting, “And you are to be my queen.”

Without warning, Jordan kissed her, a soft touch of lips so vulnerable and tender. It was more of a question than an assertion “Do you still love me?” the kiss asked Diamond. And Diamond said yes, she leaned into the kiss and let herself melt into Jordan. Their love was already forbidden, did it really matter how forbidden? Diamond had already learned how to ignore the world, it didn’t matter who Jordan was. All it mattered was that she loved her.

Lol, I love Friday Night Frights. I can never think of prompts, and this one was really good. Have an amazing weekend you guys (I know it's Saturday now, sorry I was tired last night). 😊😊😊

@promptsforthestrugglingauthor

#friday night frights #fnf #amwriting #short story #short fiction #fantasy #writing #writers #original writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #my writing #kingdom #high fiction #high fantasy #wlw #wlw positivity

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0idril0 · 5 years

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Phoenix

Daria& Evan 13

Thanks @whumpywhumper and @captivity-whump for beta reading

I’m sorry @comfy-whumpee but this one is what all the pain was for

@whumpitywhumpwhump I don’t know where you are but we miss you 🥺

@doityourselfbombs I cannot for the life of me remember your other blogs name 😅

next fic is pure comfort, you guys deserve it for putting up with me

June 21, 1995—Summer Solstice

Daria hummed quietly, tucking her precious boy closer. The candle on her altar flickered, illuminating his pink cheeks, still round with baby fat. He hugged a little stuffed wolf closer, curling long, slender fingers into her shawl as he snuffled in sleep.

Her ritual was ruined, but as she pressed a kiss against his thick hair, she couldn’t find any annoyance at the interruption.

“I love you, my little Nikola.”

Stroking his slender fingers, she memorized her little boy’s face. She knew that she shouldn’t have favorites, but her little boy was the most loving toddler she’d ever encountered. He clung to her, always wanting to be held, to be snuggled and fussed over.

She grinned as the the new life in her kicked out, making its presence known. Three more months and her little boy wouldn’t be the youngest and her time would be taken up with the new baby. And her daughter, her oldest, would be ten. It would be time to start teaching her about her magic soon.

Her eyes strayed to the altar, and she felt a knot of worry grow in her chest. When Nico had wandered into her divination, it had turned violent, showing the death of a young man with dark hair and pale blue eyes. Daria shivered, remembering. The young man had looked so much like her husband, but he’d had her dark hair, her blue eyes. Nikola’s hair and eyes.

“You spoil him.”

Daria shifted so she could look at the door where her husband lurked. “Hmmm.... Dragostea mea.... do you blame me?”

Andrew smirked, tiptoeing up to them. “I guess I can’t, but that’s only because you tried to spoil Sorina, and she wouldn’t let you.” He grinned impishly, settling a square hand on their son’s head. “Did you see anything?”

Biting her lip, Daria turned to the altar. “Bits and pieces... your son interrupted before I saw anything about the near future.”

Andrew snorted, used to her trying to blame him for things. “My son when he interrupts, your son when he’s adorable, how’s that fair? Want me to take him to bed so you can finish?”

She shook her head, pulling Nico into a tighter embrace. “I’ll have to wait for the equinox, but I think we will be safe until then.”

“Okay, Love, I’ll see you in a bit.” He kissed Nico’s forehead before leaving the room on silent feet.

Daria sat there, cradling her son, until the candle sputtered out.

Evan pushed Brian and Kristy through the doorway to his office, slamming the door closed as Clint’s feral howl sounded through the clinic. Snarls and screams echoed through the brick walls, vibrating the door on its hinges. He hoped Clint didn’t come this way, the door wouldn’t hold against a feral wolf.

“F—fuck.” Brian’s breathy curse hung in the room as Evan stood with his back braced against the door. “Fucking fuck, what the hell was that?”

“That... that would be a werewolf that just lost its mate....” Sweat ran in rivets down his face, soaking his shirt as he caught his breath. Brian’s face turned white, mouth falling open.

“But...” Brian trailed off, sinking into a catty corner chair. His wide eyes were glassy as they left Evan's, staring into empty space.

A small sob drew his attention, Kristy was on her haunches behind his desk, holding a trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh my god... oh my god...” Mascara ran down her olive cheeks, staining her hands where she’d started to wipe away tears.

The crash of metal made them all jump, bracing themselves in their respective places. Their quiet breathing was the only sound for a long moment.

Evan's hands shook as he straightened, gently cracking the door open. A howl made him freeze, the sound sucking the warmth from the room. He clenched his eyes against the agony in it, allowing his head to rest against the cool wood. “Fuck... “

March 21, 1999—Spring Equinox

Daria sobbed, hands braced against the altar in front of her. Her little boy had turned six yesterday, and she wouldn’t live to see him turn seven. She’d done everything, altered their future in so many different ways, and she couldn’t make it change.

What was she supposed to do?

“Mama, are you okay?”

Daria sniffled, quickly rubbing away her tears. Nico peeked through a small crack in the door to her herb room, worry causing a small furrow in his brow. He held his small stuffed wolf close, inseparable from it. She knew why now, knew why he grew restless when the full moon rose, why all dogs seemed to love him. It was her job to make sure he got that ending though.

“Yes, Baby, I’m fine. Come here.” She spread her arms, warmth curling in her heart when he ran to her and jumped up, wrapping his legs around her waist. Burying her face into his hair, she felt a few more tears fall down her cheeks.

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, Cola,” Daria whispered into his hair, cradling his small head.

She’d seen bits and pieces of his future, and it filled her with dread. She’d seen happiness, but she’s also seen such unimaginable horror. She had three more chances. She couldn’t waste them.

“Stay here.”

Brian and Kristy barely moved, each too caught in their own little piece of misery to acknowledge him.

Evan pulled the door open slowly, Clint’s howl still haunting the clinic. He froze when a quiet whine came from one of the exam rooms to his left, not expecting anything other than Clint to be out in the clinic.

He instinctively wove magic around the advancing dog, relaxing when Murphy, a large fluffy mutt with hip dysplasia, waddled around the door. Murphy ignored Evan, continuing his slow walk down the hallway.

The damage to his clinic was extensive, wood splinters littering the hallway, brick powder coating the flat surfaces. Fuck. Inching his way closer, he could see more dogs laying in front of his surgery room, pulled together so tightly that they looked like one giant ball of fur. The largest two, a Tibetan mastiff named Clifford and a wolfhound name Keith, sat at the doorway, standing sentinel. Cliff whoofed at him quietly in greeting, but didn’t move, keeping his post.

“Good boy,” Evan whispered, weaving a few delicate strands of magic over the dogs. Clifford was tricky, part supernatural, but mostly just well trained. Keith was easier, easily following his suggestion to move.

Clint lay naked on the floor, broad back to the doorway. Keening sobs racked him, muscles quivering under the onslaught of grief. Blood stained his shoulder, black bruises fanning over his shoulder and ribs. There was a tiny mass barely visible in Clint’s arms, and Evan's heart hurt as he realized it was Nico, his bandaged feet poking out of the bottom of the bundle.

What had he done with Martin? Taking stock of the dogs, he saw they were all here. If the man had been injured somewhere one of them would have been there. Especially his resident comfort dog, an old golden named Sunny.

The wolf’s nest was a haphazard mess of quilts and blood stained towels; Evan rolled his shoulders, steeling himself as he grabbed a fresh quilt before entering.

“Hey, buddy...” Whispering, he shook out the quilt. “I’m just going to cover you up, okay?”

Clint muffled a watery growl into the quilt cocooning Nico, curling tighter around his small bundle as the quilt descended to cover them.

“I know, I know, shhhh...” Evan knelt, placing a tentative hand on Clint’s shoulder. The growling stopped, giving way to more gasping sobs as his mouth worked like he was trying to talk. “I know, buddy, I know.” Evan buried a hand into Clint’s hair, gently stroking the sandy locks.

One of Nico’s hands had fallen out of the blanket to lay limp against the quilts, Clint’s sobs making the appendage shake. Evan continued to stroke Clint’s hair, rubbing small circles into the base of his skull.

Evan’s throat tightened as he sat there with the pair, and he brushed a stray tear from his face before reaching forward, gently grasping Nico’s lax hand.

“Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.....” Evan whispered the benediction into the quiet space between Clint’s cries, rubbing circles into Nico’s bandaged wrist. “May the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, Rest In Peace.”

Evan squeezed the base of Clint’s skull as the man whimpered louder. “I’m sorry Clint. I-“

A faint blue light distracted him, reflecting against his fingers. Wha-?

December 22, 1999—Winter Solstice

Daria swallowed thickly as she laid out the altar in front of her; it was time. Her last task. The full moon rose behind her as she lit the candles, placing the crystals delicately around the copper bowl. It needed to be perfect.

Anxiety grew in her chest as she willed the sputtering candles to stay alight. She was glad for Louisiana’s tepid winters as she laid her sleeping little boy on the altar, making sure his lax arms and legs were placed perfectly. She’d had to give him a sleeping brew, worried he would be too curious about the ritual to lie still. She needed this to work.

She lit the contents of the bowl on fire using the white candle and tugged the little plush wolf from Nico’s embrace. He was going to be so disappointed when he woke up.

The henna work on Nico’s chest and arms was dark in contrast to his pale skin. Smoothing a hand over his thin chest, she checked the work again, making sure he hadn’t smudged it playing with his little sister before falling asleep.

“I have one more story for you, my little one.” God, how she wished she could tell him stories every night, watch the way he would mouth along with a poem, puzzling at the meaning behind the words. Even as a six year old, he was so thoughtful and deep. It killed her that she wouldn’t see him grow.

Unclipping the talisman from her neck, she traced the small engraving. The piece was no larger than a quarter, a howling wolf surrounded by two Phoenixes in flight.

Holding it over the flames, she began chanting.

“When you are ashes, remember this.

They will insult you,

Hurt you,

Defeat you,

Betray you,

Injure you

Set you aflame

And watch you burn.”

The toy ignited quickly, multicolored flames consuming it in moments.

“But they will not,

Shall not,

Cannot

Destroy you.”

She released the talisman, the metal crackling as it settled into the ashes.

“Because you,

Like Rome,

Were built on ashes,

And you,

Like a Phoenix,

Know how to rise,

And resurrect.”

The flames in the bowl turned blue as the moon reached its peak, burning higher than what should have been possible before extinguishing with a whisper of air, there one moment and gone the next.

Nico mewled as the flames dissipated, and her breath caught in her throat as the lines of henna work slowly began to glow, bright blue illuminating his pale skin.

Quickly, Daria set her hand into the ashes, heedless of the heat, letting the metal talisman burn into her hand. She traced the lines of blue with the ash, dipping her fingers into the heat over and over again until he was completely coated.

“Protect him. Please.” Daria fastened the clasp around his neck, the tiny click echoing in the quiet. The talisman sat in bold contrast to his skin as the henna and ash mixed, slowly disappearing into Nico’s skin. The talisman would be hidden from view so only he would be aware of it. Picking her child up like she had a hundred times before, wrapping his legs around her waist and his arms around her neck, she abandoned the altar. She wouldn’t need it again. She’d done all she could for her family.

Clint’s sobs grew harsher as Evan turned Nico’s limp hand. What the fuck?

“Clint.” Evan jerked his hand away from Nico’s, using it as he scrambled his way in front of the pair to get a better look at the bundled figure.

Clint’s sob cut off with a grunt when Evan kneed him in his haste, turning into a wet growl as the vet started to peel away the blankets from Nico’s face and chest. “Just leave us alone Evan, just fucking—“

Evan cut him off, peeling Clint’s arm away from Nico’s chest. “Clint. Look.”

Blue sigils wormed their way across Nico’s exposed skin as Evan watched, like they were being drawn with a practiced hand. Clint gave a strangled gasp from where he lay eyes widening as he dislodged his arm from beneath Nico’s head.

Evan recovered first, probing at the faint lines where they disappeared under the bandages on the bruised chest. What. The. Fuck?

“Have you ever—“ Evan cut himself off, a faint movement against his fingers making him freeze. “Oh my God.”

Pushing Clint away, he rolled Nico to his back, the boy’s head rolling against the quilts. He pressed trembling fingers to the bruised throat and choked. “Fuck. Fucking hell, he’s got a pulse.”

Evan whipped his head towards Clint, who was staring at Nico with glassy eyes, like he hadn’t heard him. “Clint, look at me.”

The wolf lifted his eyes slowly to meet his, gaze dazed. There wasn’t any understanding in the wolf’s yellow eyes. Shock. Exactly what he needed.

Evan growled in frustration, looking Nico over. His heartbeat was still faint against his fingers, but it was so much stronger than it had been before Martin had arrived. The boy's face had lost the sickly gray, replaced by a pink blush across his cheeks. He pressed his hand against Nico’s chest, and flinched in surprise when there was a wet cough followed by crackling as Nico gasped for air.

“N—Nico?” Clint clutched at his chest, eyes distant. “Oh my god. Oh my god Darlin’. Evan, Evan I—.” Cutting himself off, he folded in half, pressing his cheek to Nico’s. A strangled laugh erupted from him, and Evan felt a small smile tug at his mouth.

He had no idea what was happening, but Nico was alive.

#Nico Series #grief #resurrection #poor clint #poor nico #evan #introducing nicos mom #the next one is all comfort #yall deserve it #thanks for sticking around

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ofcloudsandstars · 5 years

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so the Sagittarius full moon was wild. I finally moved to a place I’ve always wanted. It was almost a shock cause it feels like everything I’ve manifested came true. I did magic around spring equinox with a very mercurial witch (going to see her summer’s eve on Thursday!) who helped me with a spell using her type of singing magic. She does sound baths and singing chants and she taught me a chant she used when she was homeless to open a path for her to find an ideal home for her. The road opening chant worked and we made charm bags with natural ingredients inside such as dried organic petals that I would bury once I found my home.

Well I decided I was going to finish that ritual last night but also a great Sagittarian witch friend lives in North London and wanted to celebrate my move by getting drunk at the local tavern. So we caught up with life and drank a lot of whiskey (I bought some woodford oak shots in honor of sagittarius full moon), beer, and when we were getting broke we drank house whiskey and ginger beer. After we were drunk I was ready to part with her since she had to get up early then run off to the heaths to do my ritual but her being a sagittarius was like: Let me come with you fuck getting up early we gonna do some magic.

So 15 minutes later (which, it would have taken at least 15 minutes to walk to the heaths if I lead us but I let her do it) we are walking up nearing highgate and I am like WHEEEREEE are you taking us??? and its like old bougie cinematic tudor and gothic houses shrouded with ivy and old trees and essentially she lead us to the entrance of the swimming ponds. And it was really cool there were lots of groups of women out there like all clearly witches (I mean the Heaths is like incredibly magical and feels like another realm and it has not only become my sacred place but its like a living church to me but a lot of other witches obviously feel the same) but there were a trio of women in long white gowns with drums that were lost and we all greeted each other with Happy Full Moon! and helped them get back to the main road. We then descended into the darkness of the woods, like one path was so dark you could not see anything but you felt like you were diving into a black ocean with the waves of nightly breezes through the bodies of massive trees you could hardly see. The canopy blocked out the sky and any moonlight or light pollution. The energy felt so intense that my anxiety pulsed an electric-like feel up to my neck and ears that made me light headed. To be safe I did a quick protection spell with some incense I got when my dumbass was high and wandering around Amsterdam a few weeks ago and stumbled upon some fairy themed shop where they sold ridiculously named incenses such as Goblin’s Lair (the one that made me buy all of them cause I was just imagining burning that shit and my poor roommates going like: what the fuck is that smell?? And I would be emerging from my room in my long black gown like: ahh yes it is the ExquisiTe smell of my Goblin’s Lair incense.. but yeah once I bought that I bought all of them. The red is Demon’s Lust which smells kind of like a deep musky floral and I burned it before a date came over and the sex was FIRE, the yellow was Wizards Spell which was mainly patchouli based which is what I bought to the woods, the green is goblins lair which is earthy and cinnomanny, the blue is Fairy’s Mist which smells like airy floral or like violets and the purple is Unicorn’s Grace which is Aloe. ) Anyway I was burning the wizards spell incense around us making a shield then we carried on the path.

We reached the gate which in near-pitch darkness we had to climb over. I nearly busted my ass but once we reached the other side the energy changed Drastically! Like we entered another realm. It felt like a party vibe and when we got to the swimming ponds there were another group of women that were just finishing that greeted us with a happy full moon. They loved my incense and I gave them a stick lol. My friend and I went to the edge of the pond and I set up an altar space with a selenite tower, amber tealights and we did some manifestation spells. Then this girl just.. strips.. naked.. She’s like: Ok going in!! And like.. dives into the abyss of the pond.. It was NOT the warmest night. The water was like the void. But she swam out all the way to the middle and was howling: The MOOON!!! IT’s sooo beautiful!! I could only see her cause she is pale and the silver light reflected off of her just floating in darkness. Anyway I was kind of like: it’s sagittarius full moon go hard or go home, so I took off my clothes and tried to get in but my foolish ass at the time was like: oooh my godd I don’t want to get my haiirrrr wetttt (cause that would mean 2 hours the next day washing, blowing it out and straightening again) so I thought I could slowly descend into the icy abyss then wade over so most of my head would not go under which means I went in SLOWLY AND PAINFULLY oh my god when that water touched my ass OOOLORDTTT and she was all gleefully swimming in the distance all like: Look at the bats!! and I was just hoping my ass wouldn’t get sick lol. Anyway I finally got in and it was like.. the closest thing my physical body got to astral projecting. It felt like you were swimming through the veil. The water was black but moved around you like shimmering fabric that shined silver due to the moon’s reflection. I was trying to not think about it too much cause it was a bit psychedelic and eerie (and I can get visually overstimulated easily) but I was floating through this ice-fire abyss under the bright light of the moon. It was both so lunar yet so plutonian. Like my body felt so energized like it was on fire but it was an icy fire and I was so aware of my spirit. I was trying MY BEST! to not think about anything underneath me cause you could not see a THING in that water and my dumbass who loves watching horror movies was just trying to not let my imagination take the best of me wading through pure darkness so with every wade I was using my energy to also make a protective shield lol. Finally I get to her and we are having the best of time in this eerie other world looking at the MASSIVE silver moon in the sky. It felt unreal swimming under the full moon. I always have this heightened sense of energy around full moons like I wake up when it hits my bed but being in water underneath it felt like something was being awakened. Anyway we swim back cause its cold and my ass is out of shape and I am PANTING like I have ran a marathon so we get back and oh my god we were sooo wet. I used my shirt as a towel and just wore my dry sweater. We tried to warm our wet bodies over the arrangement of tealights in our makeshift altar but our bodies were just extinguishing the lights with all the water dripping on it haha. My hair is fully wet at this point and I am freezing, and I just pick a tree to go to to scatter the remains of the charm bag then we set off back into the dark path. The woods felt less intense and more welcoming like somehow our spirits were transformed and we were one with the shadows of the heath.

We got to the edge of the road and tried to order and uber and though both of our phones were at like 15 percent they DIED. So I was like: I just moved here I don’t know how to get home. And she’s like: I’ll walk you!! And it’s about 12:30AM. Anyway she takes me through ALL the most bizarre places in the area, like we pass through a gated community of tudor apartment complexes, the highgate cemetary, then at the end we find The Holly Village. We did not know what it was at the time (we thought it was some religious thing) but she realized the gate was open and before I knew it her curious fox-like snooping ass just wiggles into there and so I had to chase her down the moon lit gardens to Get Out before some old man in a cult notices us but the only local who noticed was the landlord (well it was a big fluffy cat that was watching us stoically from one of the old gothic home’s doorsteps, like we thought it was a statue or one of the gargoyles but she eventually moved) and she kept following us around no matter which garden we snuck around in to make sure we weren’t getting into trouble.

We eventually get home at nearly TWO AM and I am like you have to stay over with me cause you gotta get up early for work. So we have a cozy sleep and I knew my dreams were going to be wild that night which I had a really wild short dream. Basically it was really vivid, and I was there in this world of just blackness, but facing an endless black mirror. And my reflection I was dressed up ceremoniously. I started walking towards myself and the glass would ripple like water. I was going to walk into the wall of water fusing with this reflection but then I woke up.

#long post #full moon #personal #witchy shenanigans

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clariverse · 4 years

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Writer In Motion: Week Three

This week, my Writer In Motion story went through a round of CP feedback. I was assigned two—and two stories to critique myself in return—and I sent the story to them with more than a slight curiosity. I’ve been posting my thoughts and doubts about this short over the past couple of weeks, as it went from its first draft to the self-edited second, and I got a couple of words of first-impression feedback along the way, but I really wanted to know how it’d do with the readers.

This week, I edited it based on that feedback—but first I want to talk a little bit about something very important, very easily overlooked, and for me very hard to do: trusting compliments.

If you’d like to skip past the talk to the story itself, you can click here.

For my week one and week two posts, click on those links.

So, trusting compliments.

For the longest time, I saw no use in compliments. The logic went something like this: they don’t tell me what’s wrong; they don’t tell my inner critic they’re right; they don’t give me thoughts on what to change, and so they must be useless. And oh, what a quick and simple slide it is from “useless” to “wrong”. It wasn’t before long that my brain could find a hundred reasons to discredit any compliment or positive piece of feedback I received—not because I thought the critics were dishonest, but because there’d always be something. “They don’t know about X.” “They wouldn’t be saying so if they only considered Y.” “They’re not seeing the Z because of S.” There was always a reason why the compliment wasn’t really, actually applicable.

Well, this experience challenged that a bit, and I decided to make a conscious effort to work through it. With this experience, there was no illusive “something” to discredit the positive feedback that came my way: I had posted everything. The readers saw (or could’ve seen) the first draft; the thought process; my own to-edit notes and doubts; the second draft that came out of it all, and more notes on that; and above it all, a finished story. The Imposter Syndrome head of the many-headed beast that is my inner critic looked for things to snap its jaws at, but it wasn’t as simple as usually—and reader, I leaned into that. I chose to trust the positives and consider them just as useful as the rest, because useful they are. Accepting positive feedback, I found, can be as complicated a skill as accepting critiques—but one that doesn’t deserve to be looked down upon as much as it often is. We deserve to be proud of our work; we deserve to be happy when others acknowledge its positive sides.

So here is some general positive feedback I received for this WiM story:

The dual timeline works! A couple of people even expressed their surprise at this, considering the length of the story and the fact the timelines are also in different tenses

The prose is poetic and flows well

The story has that fairytale-y feel I was going for

I’m pretty pleased with that. For the most part, these things are telling me that the story as a whole is doing what I had set out to do. Can my mind find things to prod at? Yes. Can it turn to what wasn’t said to try and discredit what was? Oh, absolutely. But I’m not letting it.

That said, I received more than compliments. Before I show you the next draft of the story itself—and then send it off to the Editor for one last round of feedback!—here are some very important points my CPs raised:

The Spirit’s plan in the past story is too underexplained—this was a big one, and one I’m focusing this edit on the most

Related, the reasoning behind “she won’t get back from the mountain” could use some clarity

There’s some pronoun confusion going on at times, as well as Child=Giant confusion

And a smaller one but one I just can’t not mention: hyphenated words get counted as one even when they shouldn’t, so I might’ve technically gone overboard with the wordcount by a few—it was an honest mistake! I never even thought about the hyphens thing until a CP pointed it out thinking I did it on purpose 😅

With all those things in mind, I took a couple of days to think. The feedback felt well-balanced to me, and so I wanted to approach editing in a way that emphasised on things that worked and addressed the things that didn’t. Without further ado, here’s what came out.

Sometimes Our Skies

The Giant climbs the mountain one narrow, cut-into-the-slope stair at a time, carrying in her arms a dying spirit of the skies. She pushes against the chilling wind and raindrops swirling before her face, her heart drumming the rhythm, almost there, almost there.

On the eve of the equinox, the Spirit fell from her skies by the wish of a lonely child, and concocted a plan to trick her.

More-stairs-than-she-can-count up the mountain, the Giant pauses to look back, for the first time since she started the climb. Far below, the stairs disappear in the ocean of white, where islands of smaller mountaintops peek through the clouds and early snowflakes await to flutter upon the giants’ cities. Up ahead, the stairs lead into the quiet mist of further heights, to new, thinner clouds caught against the sharp peaks. She still has ways to go.

On their first night, the Spirit asked not for the child’s name, because she wouldn’t be staying long. On their first dawn, the child cried not to be alone, and the Spirit held her hand.

Step, step, step. The Giant hums to herself a song in a voice made hoarse by the cold, and it’s an upbeat song, a hymn to the adventurers designed to bring spring into one’s step and courage to one’s heart.

“We’re almost there”, she tells the bundle in her arms, ashen curls sticking out of the wraps of tawny fur.

The Spirit says nothing.

On the night of their first year, the Spirit remembered her plan. Make the child wish her back home; let that wish burn the child’s soul in place of the Spirit’s own, and leave her behind cold and still as the Spirit burns back up in her skies. Soon, she told herself.

But to the child she only said, I’m here.

And the child smiled.

The Giant reaches the top cold and tired. Her fingers might be blocks of stone, even shielded from the worst cold by the furs around the half-conscious spirit. There’s the tower, up ahead, almost there: on a pier of concrete between the worlds, a structure of metal and hard work rises up to meet the sky, built to withstand millennia by the giants of the old. The stories say they lived for hundreds, thousands of years.

The thought, even through the cold, makes the Giant’s chest warm with excitement. Oh how wonderful it would be, to live that long, to live forever. But perhaps so lonely, too.

On the last day of their fifteenth spring, the Spirit’s eyes fluttered closed. It was the birthday of the giants’ matriarch, an evening festive and alive with colour, and the Spirit feared. I am tired, she said.

The child who was growing up held her close, stroke her hair and whispered small poems into her ear, and said, Tell me what I can do.

And the Spirit didn’t even think of seizing her chance.

The Giant climbs the tower with the last of her strength. She now carries the Spirit in a makeshift sash across her chest, and if there wasn’t for the scarf wrapped tight around her face, her lips would be brushing against the softest curls she’d ever touched.

Quietly, the Spirit stirs. She senses the closeness of her skies, of the home she’s already thought lost.

“We’re almost there,” the Giant coos.

“I will miss you,” the Spirit whimpers.

On the morning of summer solstice, when the child was a child no longer and the Spirit had paled to an ashen shade, she told of a plan long discarded and said, I will extinguish like stars before the morning sun. But I will not let you burn in my place.

On the morning of summer solstice, when the leaves on the trees were bright, the child who was no longer a child heard it was too late to wish, and instead declared, I will take you home.

The tower pierces the skies. It enters the realm of the spirits with a sharp peak bright with snow and stardust, but the Giant doesn’t climb that far. She stops when the clouds swirl closer with the wind, the skies excited and concerned to meet their long-lost denizen.

She unwraps the furs and kisses the Spirit’s forehead. And she says to the wind and the cold and the heights, “She’s going to be alright.”

The winds take hold of the Spirit’s pale curls. They tug at her sweater—the one the Giant made her, purple and blue and silver like the evening—and, finally, lift her up to where the heights chatter in voices of all the others, Welcome back home.

And it’s now, not when her knees had started hurting or the Spirit had been so silent in her arms, not when the elders of the city had warned her no one ever returned from the mountain, that the Giant cries.

She doesn’t speak, because she can’t find her voice. But she holds the Spirit’s hand, and for a moment it’s like holding a torch, like touching a star. The clouds light up with all the shades of autumn and fire, all the pinks of chilly dawns and golds of warm sunsets. And she puts in her touch all she needs to say, a fragile plea upon tear-stained memories: Don’t forget me.

She is ready to start her climb down, only hoping the cold and the exhaustion would catch up with her far enough for the Spirit not to have to witness it.

But the sky lights up again.

The Spirit reaches with a hand no longer so pale, smiling a lopsided smile that sends the Giant’s chest fluttering. And as the wind calms and the voices of her family sing a quiet song of gratitude and welcome, the Spirit makes a wish of her own: stay with me.

Thoughts

This time, I don’t have much to say. I’m sending the story off to the Editor for feedback, and I’m sitting here very curious to hear what she has to say. My inner critic is loud and convincing, but this time I’m going in without letting it say its part first. Looking forward to next week and working on the final draft~

#writing #my writing #writeblr #violetvineyard #short story #process #writing process #writers of tumblr #amwriting #writer in motion #wip #work in progress #fantasy

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silverfootstepswrites · 6 years

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Equinox: Spring [5]

“Yeah, not sure why Madara called a meeting so late,” sighed Temari, opening the door to the conference room.

“It’s because he’s literally a demon,” quipped Sakura in return. Temari snickered as she flipped the light switch.

“SURPRISE!”

Hidan jumped up from behind the coffee table and began flinging fistfuls of confetti at her. Kakuzu appeared too, placing a plastic pink crown on top of her head. The cheap kind from the dollar bin.

And then Madara walked into the conference room, a cake held in his hands. Moving slowly so that the candles wouldn’t go out. Sakura covered her face with her hands as they all began singing to her.

“I told you guys that I didn’t want anything for my birthday!” Sakura whined, shaking Madara’s arm a little.

“Yes, darling, and as the people who love you, we know to ignore that bullshit,” Madara responded, patting her cheek.

“Blow out the candles, birthday princess,” Hidan urged.

Madara cleared his throat. “Remember the diversity training we just had, Hidan?”

“Uh… birthday… overlord?” Hidan amended. Sakura nodded as she considered the title. She blew the candles out on the cake.

“Then as birthday overlord, I decree that we should all eat this super-cute cake,” Sakura announced.

As Kakuzu sliced the cake, Temari set a box on the conference table. Sakura flipped the lid open. Inside was a toy xylophone. There were little dancing cat decals all around the plastic. Sakura burst into laughter.

“Feature it on your next track. It’ll be lit,” Temari told her. Sakura hugged her.

“Hey, Bunny,” Hidan said to her left. Sakura turned her head to look at him. And was promptly met with a faceful of cake.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ASSHOLE!” he whooped.

Hidan’s smile faded as Sakura sat very still. She slowly wiped the frosting and cake from her eyes. And then rubbed the rest off on the back of her hand. Her head turned toward the slice Kakuzu had set in front of her. Scooping it up, Sakura grabbed the front of Hidan’s shirt.

“Yeah. Happy birthday to me… bitch,” she whispered before she smeared the cake over his neck and down his shirt. As Hidan howled for mercy, Madara took a bite of his cake.

“Oh, is this lemon frosting? It’s lovely,” he remarked to Kakuzu, who had been in charge of ordering it.

“Yeah. It’s not bad,” agreed Kakuzu, also taking a bite. Temari sat on the edge of the conference table, filming as Sakura continued to torment Hidan.

Eventually, Sakura forgave Hidan and pulled him to his feet. He tried to smear some frosting on Kakuzu’s face but Kakuzu held up his fork. Hidan slowly lowered his hand.

“Well, now that we’ve had dessert, why don’t we go out for dinner? That order makes complete sense to me,” Madara announced. Laughing, Sakura let Hidan and Kakuzu pull her through the door. Temari followed, hands on Sakura’s shoulders, hurrying to keep up with them.

“I know I’m going to regret this, but…” Madara let out a sigh as he held up his black credit card, “Dinner’s on me.”

Hidan flipped the wine menu to the last page, where they kept all the fancy, aged bottles.

“How many bottles of champagne do you think you can drink, Bunny?” Kakuzu asked. Ripping the menu from their hands, she dropped the menu in Madara’s waiting hand.

“Thank you, my dear,” Madara said as he scanned the list.

The drinks came first. And then the food. The volume of their conversation increased as the waiter opened another bottle of wine. And then another. It was a Friday night, so the wine bar was busy. Their noisy little table didn’t stand out much in the bustling establishment.

“Round two! Are you coming, Boss?” Hidan asked, his arm over Sakura’s shoulder.

Madara swirled his wine around in his glass, chin resting on his fist. He shook his head.

“I think I’ll finish this and head home. It’s time for this old man to go to sleep,” he replied.

Sakura shoved Hidan away. She leaned over to latch onto Madara’s arm instead.

“Nooo! You’re not old, Boss. You’re beautiful!” she gushed.

“Oh boy. There she goes again,” Kakuzu muttered before he took a sip of his drink. He made a face when Hidan tapped his arm. But relaxed when he realized that Hidan was just handing him another drink.

“You have to come, Madara. I want you to be there,” Sakura whined, rubbing her cheek against Madara’s shoulder. He avoided looking at her as she gave her best puppy dog eyes.

“Come on, coolest boss in the world,” Sakura called, shaking his arm a little. “Come on. It’s my birthday! I want us all there. It’s more fun that way,” she added.

Madara let out a long sigh. He finally looked at her to poke the tip of her nose. “You, my darling, are positively dangerous,” he declared. And then he signaled for the check.

“I thought you said that siren charm doesn’t work on you,” Kakuzu spoke up.

“It doesn’t. She’s just my favorite,” Madara retorted, pointing at Sakura. Who grinned in return.

“We have so much in common. I’m my favorite too!” she said. Hidan rolled his eyes.

They headed to a nightclub owned by one of Madara’s many friends. Which explains how they got a table so late on a Friday night.

Sakura leaned against the railing, scanning the dance floor below. Temari sidled up beside her, a rum and coke in her hand.

“Why so glum, chum?” asked Temari. She offered her glass to Sakura, who pushed it back.

“I’m not glum. I’m in a great mood!” Sakura insisted.

But Temari only wrinkled her nose at her. “Sure. That smile is fake as fuck but okay.”

Sighing, Sakura dropped the expression. She didn’t say anything, but Temari saw the way Sakura scanned the DJ booth.

“So… I’m guessing you and Boss Numero Dos are…” Temari mimed slicing her hand over her throat.

Sakura’s shoulders sagged. “I know I did the right thing, Tem. But it doesn’t feel like it,”

It was Temari’s turn to sigh. She wrapped one arm around Sakura’s shoulder and hugged her close. “That’s how it is, girl. It isn’t easy for us.”

“Half-sirens?” asked Sakura.

“Nah. Women,” Temari replied. They chuckled together.

But then Temari’s expression turned a little serious. “At the end of the day, you have to do right by you. Your happiness has to come first,” Temari added.

“Tem, can you just adopt me and be my mom?” Sakura requested. Temari burst out laughing.

The topics lightened after that. They chatted about work and about their latest projects. They poked fun at the DJ at the club and criticized his transitions between songs. Sakura felt herself relaxing a little as she sipped her cocktail. Their conversation was interrupted every once in a while as people popped in to wish Sakura a happy birthday. Sometimes they were brief greetings, punctuated by one-armed hugs and pats on the shoulder. Only when people got a little pushy did Temari intervene, shoving them away with her foot.

After a while, Temari glanced down at her drink. And then at Sakura’s empty glass. “I’m gonna go get us some shots. Be right back,” Temari announced. She squeezed Sakura’s hand before she pushed off the railing. Sakura watched her descend the stairs, down into the rest of the club.

Over her shoulder, she saw Kakuzu and Hidan sitting on the sofa. She waved her hand to get Kakuzu’s attention. And then she pointed toward the stairs, mouthing ‘Temari’. Kakuzu nodded. He downed the rest of his drink before he got to his feet and headed after their friend. It would take Temari a million years to get back otherwise as she fought off all the attention.

“Hey!” Hidan called, patting the spot Kakuzu had emptied. “Get over here, birthday overlord!”

Laughing, Sakura went to join him.

As she sat waiting for their friends, Sakura recalled a conversation she had had with Kiba just a couple days ago. It was a couple days after she had kicked Tobirama out of her house. And Kiba had shown up with a six-pack and a couple cheese-filled sandwiches. His hair and clothes were flecked with yellow paint.

Sakura checked her watch. “Kiba, it’s almost 9. Are you just eating dinner now?” He handed the food and drinks to her. She stuck her head out the door as she watched him jog down the gravel path to his truck. He reached over the back to pull something out. When he climbed back on the porch, he was carrying a clean plaid shirt and jeans in his arms.

“I gotta borrow your shower. We were painting all day and I stink,” Kiba said.

Sakura sniffed in his direction. The fumes coming off him were strong. She cringed. Kiba nodded.

Shaking her head, Sakura laughed. “Do you just show up at people’s houses to use their shower?” Still, she stepped aside to let him pass.

“Nah. I didn’t want the sandwiches to get cold. I’ll be quick,” he told her. He pulled his shirt over his head, back muscles stretching and flexing as he moved. Sakura looked away, sandwiches hugged to her chest. They were still warm.

Kiba emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, rubbing his hair with a towel. He wore his jeans, shirt slung over his shoulder. There was a shiny pink line on his left forearm. As Kiba sidled up beside her, it caught her eye. Sakura traced beside it with her thumb.

“Ouch,” she remarked.

But for some odd reason, Kiba was avoiding her gaze.

“Kiba.”

“You’ll get mad at me. It was stupid,” he said.

“It can’t be that stupid,” she assured him. Kiba huffed.

“I was trying to flip a pancake and… I kind of threw the frying pan by accident,” he admitted.

Sakura stared at him.

After a long time, she shook her head, letting out a quiet sigh. “Just…put your shirt on, Chris Hemsworth,” Sakura told him.

Kiba glanced down at his body, patting his stomach. “You think I look like Chris Hemsworth?” he asked, sounding flattered. She snorted. Still, Kiba pulled his shirt on and buttoned it.

He hovered over her shoulder as he watched her plate the sandwiches and pour drinks. Not quite touching her, but certainly well within her personal bubble. Still, she had grown used to this sort of behavior from Kiba. And, if she was being completely honest, she didn’t exactly hate it.

They ate sitting at the kitchen table. The beer was still cooling in the fridge, so they clinked water glasses. The sandwiches were from the deli near Kiba’s office. The bread was a little soggy from sitting in the foil, but it was still delicious. Gooey strings of mozzarella trailed from the sandwich each time they took a bite. And Kiba looked positively over the moon when Sakura asked him to finish the last few mouthfuls of her sandwich when she felt too full.

They sat in front of their empty plates, letting their food digest for a bit. Kiba scrambled to his feet when Sakura took their plates and stood. He snatched them from her to place them in the sink. Hands on her shoulders, Kiba marched her to the living room. He headed back to the kitchen and marched back over to hand her a beer from the fridge. And then he proceeded to do the dishes and wipe the table down.

Sakura popped the beer open and sat by the fireplace. Listening to the clink of the dishes against each other. The rush of water from the faucet.

A few minutes later, Kiba joined her with his own beer. There were a few flecks of water on his wrists and the backs of his hands as he sat next to her.

“Werewolf question,” Sakura announced.

“Shoot.” He stretched his legs out in front of him.

“You can drink alcohol?” She pointed at the beer

“Yeah. So. Hang on.” Kiba drained his beer before he placed it on the coffee table. Flopping onto his back, he stretched out on the rug.

“The reason we can go to regular hospitals is that we don’t look different from humans. Like x-rays and blood tests all look the same. And when we phase, we’re really wolves. So human-liver can digest alcohol just fine,” he told her.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. But, like, that can be bad. Because if we eat raw deer or something in wolf form… and then phase back before it digests… human tummy doesn’t like that.”

As he spoke, he wriggled on his back until he could drop his head into her lap. He let out a sigh of accomplishment. When he opened his eyes, he grinned up at her. She smiled back.

“It’s like how you’re not supposed to swim for 30 minutes after you eat,” she remarked. Kiba chuckled.

“Exactly.”

As a lull fell over them, Sakura touched Kiba’s hair. There was no product holding it up any more. It fell into his face. She rubbed his goatee. She suspected that he had a babyface hiding under the facial hair. Kiba’s eyes drifted shut.

A long groan left his mouth as Sakura scratched her nails across his scalp. She did it again, laughing at his blissful expression.

“Oh my god I’m so glad today is over,” he told her. He stretched his legs out, heels resting on the cold hearth.

“Did something happen?” she inquired.

“Nah… just… the client’s kind of annoying this time around. He was complaining how it was taking too long. And then he started saying some shit about how he was an architect. And that’s how he knew we were screwing things up,” Kiba recounted, eyes opening. Sakura scowled.

“What’d you say?” she demanded.

Kiba’s eyes fell on her. He smirked. “I told him that according to my Master’s in construction management, I knew what the fuck I was doing. That kind of shut him up.”

She beamed down at him. She squeezed his face between her palms. But then her smile faded. And Kiba’s did too as he stared up at her. “I hope all your clients aren’t like that,” she worried. Kiba rolled his eyes.

“It’s just every once in a while. You get some stuck-up jerk who thinks a kid from a small town doesn’t know what he’s doing. That’s why my old man always told me to get my Master’s. I could do my job fine with or without it. But he never wanted anyone looking down on me.”

“I really wish I could’ve met him. He sounds like a great guy,” Sakura murmured.

“Yeah.”

And then, all of a sudden, Kiba’s head jerked. He craned his neck back to look up at her.

“Hey, but more importantly, what’s up with you tonight? You’re acting weird,” Kiba accused. “I stopped by because Ino mentioned that you seemed pretty down lately,” he went on.

A noise escaped her mouth. It was supposed to be a laugh. But it died halfway up her throat and turned into something else. She leaned her weight back on her palm.

“I’m just…kind of re-evaluating… everything,” she sighed. “It’s… a really, really, really long story.”

Kiba turned onto his side, his cheek resting on her lap instead.

“Is it more embarrassing than my pancake story?” he questioned.

“No.”

“Then I’ve got time,” Kiba answered.

No one really knew the full story between her and Tobirama. Not even the close friends that she had worked with for years. At best, Temari knew that it was very complicated. And that was about it.

“I ran away from home. Did I ever tell you that?” Sakura suddenly asked.

“Oh. No. Um…” Kiba’s eyes darted around, flickering around the rafters.

“It wasn’t abusive or anything. I just… I disagreed with my mom about a lot of things. And I decided that I never wanted to be like her. So I just packed up and left when I was 18,” she elaborated.

Kiba folded his hands on his stomach. He nodded a couple times.

“I’d always liked music. So I started DJing to make money. And I made some friends with people in the music industry. They taught me how to write music. A few years passed and I was producing songs of my own. Then… one day… Tobirama came to one of my gigs. He just stood in the back of the club. I noticed him because he wasn’t dancing or drinking. He just looked… mad,” she recalled.

“At the end of my set, he told me that he wanted to start his own music company. And I was like ‘who even are you?’. I thought he was crazy.” The memory made her laugh a little. She remembered him wearing all black. A leather jacket in the middle of the summer.

“So y’all started… dating or what?” Kiba asked.

“Uh…” she hedged.

“… Complicated, huh?” Kiba guessed.

“Yep.”

“And I’m guessing all the yelling was you breaking up?”

“Yep,” Sakura answered again.

Kiba twiddled his thumbs for a bit. And then he stared up at the ceiling as he asked, “Why?”

“Huh?”

His eyes flickered back to her. “Why’d you break up?”

“I get… like you used to get with me… but worse. And it’s all the time. Because he’s a full-blood,” was all she said.

“So that’s bad? Sounds like you like him, though,” he observed.

Sakura heaved a sigh, a little annoyed that he didn’t get it. “But, like, that’s not real Kiba. It’s just the weird pheromones and charm.”

Kiba was silent for a moment. He continued twiddling his thumbs. And then he tilted his head back to look at her again.

“…Yeah. That’s kind of dumb,” Kiba finally declared.

“What?” Sakura laughed.

“Sakura, I’ve been up since 5 this morning painting and getting yelled at by an asshole with a receding hairline. Do you really think I’d have dragged my ass here if I didn’t want to?”

“Well, I just… I don’t know how much of it is me and how much of it’s… assisted… by charm,” Sakura explained.

“Then let me tell you. As a veteran,” Kiba announced.

“Veteran,” Sakura snorted. Kiba ignored her as he rolled onto his back again.

“When I first met you, obviously you’re pretty, so I was like ‘woah’. But then the charm comes out and it’s like ‘Wow. Look at how pretty she is. You should pay attention because she’s pretty’. That’s how it was with you for the first couple weeks,” Kiba began. And then he pointed at her to make sure she was listening. Sakura nodded.

“And then I started to get used to the charm. So it’s like…” Kiba trailed off as he thought. He rubbed his chin.

“You know when… think of Ino’s cafe,” he decided, “When you first walk in, you’re blown away by how nice it smells. But when you’re in there for a while, you get used to it. And every once in a while, you might be like ‘oh yeah it smells great’. But it’s not the first thing you’re thinking about anymore’. Am I making sense?”

“So you’re saying I smell like bread?” Sakura replied in a flat voice. Kiba glared.

“Listen, I have my Master’s in construction shit, not poetry. I’m trying my best,” he told her.

Sakura smiled. “Okay. I’ll stop being mean. I get you.”

It was quiet again. After a while, Kiba added, “You could ask the sheriff. He’d probably say the same thing. S’why he likes you so much.”

And then something occurred to her. She poked his cheek.

“Wait. Why are you telling me all this?” she demanded.

“Huh?”

“Why are you giving me advice about this? You… like me, right?” she asked.

“Hell yeah I do,” Kiba sighed. He stretched his arms out to the sides. Wincing when his elbow knocked against the sofa. He rubbed it as he looked up at her.

“But we’re friends too, aren’t we?” he then pointed out. He closed his eyes. “I look after my friends. Even if it means… y’know… not always getting what I want.”

Sakura sniffed.

“You crying?”

“No,” she retorted. She sniffled again.

Kiba cracked one eye open.

“You’re such a crappy liar. C’mere,” he said. And Kiba raised his arms to wrap them around her shoulders. He threw his legs over her, dragging her down onto the rug. Squeezed against his chest, Sakura laughed a little, cried a little.

“Cheer up, Sakura. Everything’s gonna be alright,” he promised her.

“Alright, you rowdy kids. Let’s do a toast before one of you ends up dead,” Madara called. Everything gathered around the table.

“Happy birthday, Sakura. May this year be filled with inspiration and song,” Madara announced. A whoop went around the group as everyone crowded together to clink glasses. Several people said “happy birthday”, voices overlapping with the music pounding from the speakers below.

As Sakura took a sip of her drink, she nearly sloshed it all over the front of her shirt. Because Temari grabbed her shoulder and shook her. Hard.

“What?!” she snapped. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She followed Kakuzu’s pointing finger. To Tobirama climbing up the stairs towards them. His hands were in his pockets, hair slicked back. His eyes darted from her, over to Madara.

“Oh shit,” Hidan whispered. Sakura’s hand shot out. She grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“Did you squeal again?” she hissed. Hidan shook his head several times. She stopped when she felt something on her shoulder. It was Madara’s hand. Glowering, Sakura released Hidan.

“I’m sorry, Sakura. I asked him to come,” Madara interrupted. His hand rested on his chest. He let out a long sigh. “I figured… might as well break the news now. When everyone’s here.”

“What news, Boss?” Kakuzu asked.

Tobirama pulled his hands from his pockets. He clasped them together instead.

“Madara will be leaving at the end of next month to start his own company.”

“WHAT?” Hidan and Temari yelled in unison. Sakura scrutinized Madara’s face. Her eyes narrowed when he winked at her.

“I know it’s sudden, but we’ve decided that this is for the best,” Madara added.

Tobirama grasped Madara’s elbow. He leaned in close to whisper something. Madara turned back to everyone, usual smile in place.

“I’ll be right back,” he told them. And then he followed Tobirama to the other side of the club. They stopped near one of the enormous neon signs that bore the nightclub’s name.

“What the hell is going on?” Hidan sighed.

“Something’s up,” Kakuzu muttered.

Sakura craned her neck to try to read their lips. It was impossible. Especially given the weird blue and purple lighting that blinked in time to the music. She did see Tobirama turn away from Madara. Madara grabbed his arm, pointing up towards where they were sitting. Sakura didn’t look away as Tobirama stared right at her. And then he shook his head as he said something to Madara.

Madara returned a little while later, a pink box held in his gloved hands. There were silver ribbons tied at the top. The wrapping paper glimmered.

“What’s this?” Sakura asked as he placed it on her lap.

“Tobirama asked me to give it to you. I can incinerate it if you’d like. But I’d open it first,” he replied, settling back down beside her. Kakuzu leaned over the back of the booth to ask him something, but he froze when he saw the box.

Sakura stuck her nail under the edge of the paper to slice the tape. She unfolded the end to reveal a plain cardboard box. She found the edge of the lid to pop the top open. Nestled inside was a microphone. The base was emerald while the rest was made of gold. She held it up to the light, watching the lights sparkle off the metal fixtures.

“Oh wow,” she breathed.

“That’s lovely. It��ll make a nice addition to your collection,” Madara remarked.

Sakura lowered the microphone back into the box. When she lifted her chin, Madara was watching her, an almost-smile tugging at his lips. She handed the box to him. He accepted without hesitation.

“He went that way, darling,” Madara pointed. Sakura got to her feet. She ran down the metal stairs, scanning the crowded room.

She thought she saw him standing near the bar. But as she approached, she saw that it was someone else. Her head swiveled as she scanned the faces again. By some miracle, she spotted him heading out to the lobby.

“Tobirama!” Sakura called. He stopped, head swiveling around. And she was sort of amazed by how he heard her until she passed a mirrored wall. Her eyes were tinged gold. It faded as Sakura took a deep breath. When she turned away from the mirror, she almost ran into Tobirama. He held his hands out, as if to catch her. Stared at his hands. Lowered them.

The lobby was a lot quieter. The lights were on. It was easier to think without the music pounding in her ears.

“I know you don’t want me around. I really just came because Madara asked me,” he told her.

Sakura mashed her lips together as she stared up at him.

He was wearing all black. Gold earrings glinting. It was unbelievable how handsome he was. The edges of everything started to feel a little fuzzy. She fought it, though. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with stars in her eyes.

“Madara’s really leaving?” she demanded.

“Yeah. Madara and I want different things. He wants to go more indie. I wanna expand. The two don’t exactly match up,” Tobirama answered.

“Was… Is this…?” she trailed off with a sigh. She didn’t even know what she was trying to say anymore.

She started when he reached out with both his hands. He squished her cheeks together. And a smile flickered across his face. The one that had always been just for her. Then that expression faded.

Tobirama slipped his right hand into his pocket. He pushed the door open with his other hand. He smiled.

“Happy birthday, Bunny,” was all he said before he walked off.

#writing #equinox #equinox: spring #multisaku #tobisaku #kibasaku

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rejectedusername-trashfics · 6 years

Text

Haywoodstown: Chapter 3- Chant

Summary: It’s a sad story. It’s a sad tale, it’s a tragedy. It’s a sad story, but I’ll tell it anyway.

It had been almost a century since the apocalypse, Geoff and his boyfriend, Jack, were struggling to make ends meet. But somehow, Haywoodstown mines was a thriving business, despite the fact that no one was ever seen leaving the mines. Geoff heard the legends of the mines and was curious to see how much was true. He takes Jack with him one night to go searching for answers. On their search, they run into a young man in a well-tailored suit. The man offers to tell them a different story from mines.

It’s a love story, it’s a tale of a love that never dies. It’s a love story, about someone who tried. And there was a railroad line on the road to Hell. There was a young man down on bended knee. And brothers, thus begins the tale of Michael and Lindsay!

Chapter: 3/10

Word Count: 2,146

Pairings: Michael/Lindsay, Ryan/Gavin, Geoff/Jack

Songs: Chant I, Gone I’m Gone

First / Previous / Next / AO3

As Jeremy finished what he was saying, Jack started to clap his hands. “That was a cute little love story,” he said as he smiled.

Geoff shrugged. “I thought you said it was supposed to be a sad story,” he pointed out.

“You thought that was the story?” Jeremy asked as he raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah. You said it was a love story between Michael and Lindsay, and they fell in love in the end,” Jack explained.

This caused Jeremy to chuckle. “That was just the beginning. Brother, you ain’t heard nothing, yet.”

As the days of June progressed, Michael and Lindsay moved in together. They quickly planned their wedding and were wed in the beginning of July. When they read their vows, they promised to stay with each other, no matter what hardships they might face.

Fall drew near and Gavin’s sunny demeanor grew more subdued. In early September, Michael thought it would be a good idea to take him on a hike through the woods.

Michael walked with Gavin along the forest path. “You like nature, so I was thinking that maybe the outdoors would give me more inspiration for my music,” he told Gavin.

“Yeah, nature is pretty swell. I’m going to miss it,” Gavin glumly replied.

“Why? Where are you going where there won’t be nature?”

“It’s almost the fall equinox, which means I have to go back to my husband.”

“Is that a bad thing? I just thought you and your husband went south for the winter or something.”

“No, Michael. It means I have to go back down into the Haywoodstown mines.”

“Why can’t your husband leave the mines and spend time with you on the surface?”

“We stayed on the world above, once upon a time. But now, my husband basically owns the mines so he has to stay to run them.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Wait, wait, wait. The owner of the Haywoodstown mines, James Haywood, is YOUR husband?!”

Gavin rubbed his arm and sighed. “Yeah…”

“Holy fucking shit! I knew you were rich, but I never knew how!”

“Right,” Gavin awkwardly replied. Suddenly he heard the whistle of a train from deep within the forest. “Michael, we should keep going. Help you find your musical inspiration, yeah,” he said as he tugged Michael further along.

“Right,” he replied with a nod as he let Gavin pull him. “So, how come I’ve never seen anyone come out of the Haywoodstown mines besides you and this bald dude who sells jewels? Wait, is the bald dude your husband?’

“Oh, heavens no! The bald guy is Jeremy, and he’s my husband’s messenger. And nobody else besides Jeremy and I are physically able to leave the mines. It’s curse thing, but that’s a long story.”

“Oh… well do you think I’ll ever get to meet your husband?”

Gavin scoffed. “Hopefully not.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would mean you’d be trapped in the…”

“OOOOOHHHHHHHH HONEY!!!!” a deep voiced called out from behind them. They turned around to see a taller man with broad shoulders leaning against a tree. The man had short, honey brown hair combed out of his face, ice blue eyes, and light stubble on his face. He was wearing a pitch-black suit with a dark navy-blue shirt underneath, and a rose gold wedding ring on his right hand. “I’ve come to pick you up, Gav.”

Gavin scowled at the man. “You’re early,” he complained.

The man shrugged. “I missed you,” he said with a smirk.

“UUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH FINE!!!!!!” Gavin yelled in frustration. Then he turned and pulled Michael into a hug. “Michael, my boi, I have to go. You and Lindsay will see me again in the spring.”

“Uh, bye?” Michael said in confusion as he patted Gavin on the shoulder.

“Gavin, we need to get home,” the man called out.

“I’m coming, Ryan, I’m coming!” Gavin angrily yelled back. He pulled away from the hug and stomped over to Ryan. When Gavin joined him, Ryan scowled at Michael and grabbed Gavin by the hip to pull him closer to him. The two of them turned around and started walked away towards the train station.

Michael was very confused by what he had just seen. Then he thought about how unhappy Gavin’s husband made him. He thought about the misery that Gavin must feel, down in the mines. Then an idea popped into his head. “I could sing a song of a love gone wrong,” he said as he began racing home to grab his guitar.

“And it was a love gone wrong, alright,” Jeremy added.

“Gavin and Ryan’s?” Jack asked. Jeremy nodded.

Gavin and Ryan got off the mine train once they had arrived back in Haywoodstown. Ryan led Gavin back through the mines to his office. Gavin frowned as he heard the apathetic workers drone, “Low, keep your head, keep your head low. Oh, you gotta keep your head low if you wanna keep your head.”

The air down in the mines was hot. Ryan kept the mines hot so that breaking the rocks apart would be easier, but the heat made the workers sweat, heavily. Gavin pulled his collar out and fanned himself; he wasn’t a big fan of the artificial heat. “In the coldest time of year, why is it so hot down here? Hotter than a crucible, it’s not right and it’s not natural,” he complained.

Ryan stopped, turned around and sighed. “Lover, you were gone so long. Lover, I was lonesome. So, I built a foundry in the ground beneath your feet,” he started to explain. “Here, I fashioned things of steel; oil drums and automobiles. Then, I kept that furnace fed with the fossils of the dead,” he continued. Then he loving grabbed Gavin’s chin. “Lover, when you feel that fire, think of it as my desire. Think of it as my desire for you!” he said as he released Gavin and turned to go back into his office. Gavin sighed and followed him in.

A month went by and they were well into October. Gavin didn’t understand why everything had to be so hot. He also didn’t understand how there could be so many bright neon lights down in the mines. He marched out to Ryan’s office to ask more questions. Ryan was tired but happy when he opened the door to see Gavin. His happiness left when he saw that Gavin was scowling.

“In the darkest time of year, why is it so bright down here? It’s brighter than a carnival. It’s not right and it’s not natural!” Gavin complained.

Ryan sighed and rubbed his temple. “Lover, you were gone so long. Lover, I was lonesome. So, I laid a power grid in the ground on which you stood. And wasn't it electrifying when I made the neon shine! Silver screen, cathode ray, brighter than the light of day. Lover, when you see that glare, think of it as my despair. Think of it as my despair for you!” he explained, hoping that would satisfy him. Gavin huffed and stomped away. Ryan rubbed his forehead and sighed, again. He glumly stepped back into his office.

“I don’t really understand,” Jack said, confused.

“Gavin and Ryan had had that fight every year for the previous eight,” Jeremy explained.

By the time December had rolled around, Gavin had had enough. He angrily stomped back up to Ryan’s office and banged on the door. Ryan was very, very tired at this point in the season and the loud banging was a bit much for him to handle. He opened the door and glared at Gavin.

“Every year, it's getting worse! Haywoodstown, hell on Earth! Did you think I'd be impressed with this neon necropolis?!” Gavin angrily started. “I recall there was a time, we were happy, you and me. In the garden where we met, nothing was between us yet,” he fondly remembered. “Back before your factories, before your electricity. Back before you built the wall, it’s not right and it’s not natural!” he finally screamed.

Ryan gritted his teeth. “THAT IS IT!!!!” he yelled. Gavin stepped back, startled. Ryan took a deep breath and sighed. “Gavin, everything I do, I do it for the love of you,” he tried to explain. The he looked away and scowled. “But, if you don't even want my love, I'll give it to someone who does. Someone grateful for their fate, someone who appreciates the comforts of a gilded cage and doesn't try to fly away the moment Mother Nature calls,” he thought, aloud. He turned back to Gavin, angrily. “Someone who can love these walls that hold her close and keep her safe and think of them as my embrace.”

“Ryan…” Gavin started, calming down from his anger.

“If you love the outside world so much more than anything I can provide for you down here, than you can just go back,” Ryan announced.

“Are you…”

Ryan’s eyes flashed red. “LEAVE!!” he shouted.

Gavin jumped. “Ryan!” he yelped, afraid.

Ryan’s eyes turned blue again and he rubbed his forehead. “Please, just go.”

Gavin looked sadly at Ryan. Then, he walked out of the room. Ryan sighed and sat back down at his desk. He needed to figure out what he was going to do next.

“Wait, I thought you said this was the love story of Michael and Lindsay,” Geoff said.

“It is,” Jeremy replied.

“Really, because it sounds more like the angry story of Gavin and Ryan.”

“Don’t you worry, it’s all connected.”

“Well, can you hurry up and get back to Michael and Lindsay?”

“Actually, I was just about to.”

It was a cold December in the Achieve settlement. Michael had all but stopped doing his electricity work and machine building. Every since he had witnessed Gavin’s despair with his husband, he had been inspired to write his music. Lindsay had been working hard to put food on the table and support their house so Michael could write his music. She still wished he would go back to actual work, though.

One evening, she opened the door to her cottage. “Michael, I’m home,” she called out sadly. Michael didn’t respond. She heard the familiar tune of a guitar and shed her coat. She followed the sound of the music and found Michael sitting on the floor, strumming his guitar.

“I'll sing a song of a love gone wrong,” he sung as he continued to strum his guitar.

“Hi Michael, how was your day?” she asked.

“La la la la la la la…” He ignored her as he sang.

Lindsay rolled her eyes and sighed. “My day was fine, Lindsay. How was yours?” she imitated his voice. “My day was awful because I got fired,” she said in her own voice. Michael continued to ignore her. “MICHAEL!” she screamed to try and get his attention.

Michael stopped strumming and scowled at Lindsay. “What?! Can’t you see I’m busy?!”

“I got fired, today.”

“That sucks. I guess you have to find a new job, then.”

“I find a new job?! Or you could go back to your old job as an electrician!!!!!” she yelled.

“Lindsay, I’m tying to write music, now.”

“Michael while you sing your song, winter is a-comin' on. See, I'm stacking firewood, See, I'm putting by some food. Michael, all the pretty songs you sing aren't gonna shelter us from the wind,” she argued.

“I thought you said you’d support us.”

Lindsay sighed. “While you sing your song everything I've saved is gone. Nothing left upon the shelf and the fire isn't gonna light itself. Now I see all the pretty songs you sing aren't gonna harbor me from the wind.”

Michael sighed as well in response. “Look, music is my priority right now.”

“Survival should be your priority right now.”

Michael groaned. “Lindsay, if you really loved me, you’d let me work on my music!”

“Oh, you’re really gonna go there?! If you really loved me, you’d want us to live and help me provide for us!!!” she screamed. She rushed back to the front door and grabbed her coat. She ran out of the house, slamming the front door as she left.

“FINE!!!!” she heard Michael scream from inside the house.

She slid down the door and onto he ground. She felt tears running down her cheeks. “Michael, my heart is yours, always was and will be. It’s my gut I can’t ignore, Michael, I’m hungry. Oh, my heart, it aches to stay, but the flesh will have its way. Oh, the way is dark and long, but I’m already gone...” she said to herself.

She stood up and brushed the dirt off of her skirt. A gust of wind hit her face and she wiped the tears away. She sighed one more time before she walked to the forest outside her cottage. She hoped a walk would clear her mind.

#haywoodstown #ragehappy #freewood #juggey #rt fanfic #fanfic #hadestown au

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girls-scenarios · 7 years

Text

Red Equinox. Pt1.

Idols: Red velvet.

Prompt: All was well for the red velvet coven. The spring equinox was approaching and the girls were preparing. However an unexpected visitor returns and shakes their world upside down. Will they be able to protect themselves and each other? Will they make it out alive?

Writer: Admin Kitty.

A/N: I’m really happy with this so far. I’ve tried to mix realistic withcraft with the witchcraft people know in stories with like actual physical magic. I really hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think.

Warnings: A couple of swear words and talks of death.

1//2//3//4//5

“Okay. Honey cake for Seulgi, done. Lavender lemonade for Yeri, done. Lemon and violet tarts for Wendy, done. So just mine and Joy’s left and then I need to perform my rituals.” Irene was running around her small kitchen frantically. The spring equinox was a couple of days away and she needed to be ready. Being a kitchen witch meant her job for this festival was to provide blessed food for the celebration.

“Why do I have to lead this coven? Oh that’s right, because I’m the sensible one.” She huffed, celebrations stressed Irene out. There was always so much to prepare. The others were also preparing but she needed everything to be perfect in order for the final ritual to work.

“Joy. Can you come to the kitchen please?” Irene shouted through the tall building.

“Coming!” Joy shouted in reply. Joy’s heavy feet could be heard all throughout the house as she ran to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Joy asked, leaning her elbows on Irene's flour covered island counter. Her black sheer top had a line of flour as she leaned down.

“Okay the equinox is in a few days, I need to lay down some rules.” she said sternly to Joy. Joy was about to open her mouth before she was interrupted.

“No mortals are allowed to come. No human sacrifices are allowed to be held. You are allowed to bring human blood but that's it! Also no cursing Yeri.” Irene moved about her kitchen whilst laying down rules. Joy moaned.

“Cursing Yeri has become my own tradition!” Joy pouted.

“It is the spring equinox! This is supposed to be a celebration of new life and a celebration of happy relationships, not for you to annoy Yeri. I know you’re a dark witch and everything but please leave her alone. Her onions were rotten for weeks last time.” Irene reasoned with Joy. Joy tried to stifle a laugh which caused Irene to leer at her.

“Ugh fine, but if i can’t sacrifice a human at the ritual, I will sacrifice an animal.”

“No, no, no. Joy you can’t…” But before Irene could finish she had run out of the room.

“Ugh these girls.” Irene shook her head and carried on making Joy’s ham and spinach quiche. Suddenly Irene heard banging coming from the hallway.

“What in the world…?” She whispered to herself as she went out to check.

“Think you got enough there?” Irene chuckled as she saw Seulgi coming in through the door struggling with six bags filled with ritual materials.

“Well this is an important celebration, the beginning of spring is one of the most powerful Sabbaths. We have to be prepared!” Seulgi exclaimed. Irene grabbed some of Seulgi’s bags and took them into the kitchen.

“Shit! No my crystals!!!” One of Seulgi’s bags had split in half and all her crystals had fallen out. “For heaven's sake! Now i need to go out and get more.” She looked at the broken shards of quartz crystal and sighed. “I guess i could give them to Joy. She’ll probably charge them with some bad luck or death spell knowing her.”

“Or make some sort of blade.” Irene chuckled in reply. Irene pitied Seulgi sometimes. This isn’t what she wanted in life, she didn’t ask for this gift. Her family threw her out because of it. She never liked to talk about what happened.

But then again none of them really asked to be this way. Especially Yeri.

“Oh sorry!” Seulgi bumped into Wendy on her way to Joy’s room. “Don’t worry silly.” Wendy patted Seulgi on the shoulder and ran down to the kitchen. She seemed as if she needed to get somewhere urgently. Seulgi shrugged it off and carried on up the stairs.

“Ahh Wendy your tarts are ready, I just need to charm them and then…” Wendy cut her off abruptly.

“I need to talk to you, right now.” She looked out into the garden.”Is Yeri out there?” she asked quietly.

“No, she’s gone to pick up new seeds. Why? What’s wrong?” Irene was afraid, Wendy never behaved this way. Wendy grabbed Irene’s arm and pulled her out into the garden.

Yeri made the garden beautiful. The white picket fences were lined with different types of bright flowers. Herbs grew in neat little rows and spices were grown on the patio. Fruit and vegetables were grown further in the back of the garden close to where rituals were held. Wendy looks around the garden to make sure no one was around.

“I really hope the faerie folk aren't around today. Follow me.” Irene was becoming increasingly afraid of what was happening. Wendy being shifty was new to Irene.

Irene followed Wendy to the bottom of the garden which was dark due to the shade of the large apple trees. Yeri liked to enchant her plants to be large and produce the best fruit.

“Wendy what's going on?” Irene squinted in the darkness.

“I was down by the ocean earlier today; Yuju was collecting kelp for me for a potion. She said was by the harbor and she saw a ship sail nearby. It was a jet black with a flag hanging from the mast that was completely black except for a white circle in the middle.” Wendy explained.

“I don't know what you’re getting…” Wendy interrupted Irene.

“Just let me finish. Yuju said as it got closer to the dock it just disappeared. Gone into thin air.” Irene scrunched her brows, she wasn't understanding.

“I just thought hmm how strange and shrugged it off. But on my way home is when I saw them. And then I remembered It was her ship...” Wendy couldn't carry on.

“Saw who? It’s not…” Irene trailed off, she couldn't say the name. “I thought she was dead.” Irene started hyperventilating.

“She's not dead but now she's back with friends. Irene we can't stay here, we are supposed to be dead remember? That’s why we left. If she knows we have Yeri too, fuck Irene. What are we going to do?” Wendy started pacing around the dark corner of the garden.

“She told us she’d be back, but then we thought she had died and we thought we were safe. Where has she been all these years?” Irene was shocked. “Wait did she see you?” She started to panic again.

“No no, I ran off before she saw me.” Wendy stood still for a few seconds.

“We need to get Yeri out of here right now. They will use her, she's too young to understand what they are and what they have done. They already got a hold of Joy, we were lucky to save her. We might not be so lucky with Yeri.” Irene was trying to think of a plan to get them out. As the leader of her coven she had to try to stay calm for all of them.

“We need Joy to glamour us. She's clearly been tracking us.” Irene started to make her way up to the house.

“And here I thought we were safe.” Wendy stared up at their tall home. It's pearl colored paint had begun to peel off of the brown boards that covered the house and the white shutters that covered the windows were missing slats. Wendy loved this house with all her heart but it was not safe anymore.

“What are we going to tell them?” Wendy asked Irene as they walked up to the house.

“The truth.”

#red velvet #wendy #irene #seulgi #joy #yeri #red velvet scenario #red velvet scenarios #girl groups #girl group #kpop #kpop girls #Kpop girl group #kpop scenarios #kpop scenario #girl group scenarios #girl group scenario

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athingofvikings · 7 years

Text

Chapter 5: Thawfest

Previous Chapter | Summary | Table Of Contents Main | Next Chapter

Chapter 5: Thawfest

Thawfest—Colloquial term for the Sigurblót, the traditional Norse Festival welcoming the summer. Held the Sunday after the full moon after the Dísablót held at the Spring Equinox (Compare: Easter), in either April or May, to celebrate the Spring Thaw and the turning of the seasons. Typical formulations consist of contests and demonstrations of prowess by all attendees in honor of the gods. The Thawfest is a time of great social and legal importance; during the Viking Era, this festival marked the beginning of the campaigning season, and the winter was officially over at the conclusion of the festival; children who had seen sixteen winters were now officially adults. The term Sigurblót literally means "victory sacrifice," and the festival is an acknowledgment of the Norse survival of another harsh dark winter. Winter is over, and summer has won, and Ragnarok is postponed for at least one more year.

—From Aesir To Yggdrasil: A Norse Primer

Hiccup and Toothless soared through the warming skies, the ground brown and green beneath them, the endless horizon of the sea stretching out before them.

Spring was here! Eostre, goddess of the Spring, had taken the reins from Hodr, god of Winter. The snow had melted and the dragons could fly again…

Which meant that so could their riders!

Hiccup waved towards Astrid as she and Stormfly darted acrobatically through the sea stack maze below, while he and Toothless went for altitude. Whooping with delight, they spiraled through a cloudbank, soaking themselves. They hovered for a moment at the top of the climb, and then dove, the screech of a diving Night Fury sounding around them.

It was odd, Hiccup had noticed, but the sound was very different when he was riding Toothless than when he had been on the ground. On Toothless's back, it was constant, but when he was on the ground, the sound rose and fell depending on where Toothless was in relation to him.

At first when he had noticed the difference in sound, he had been worried that he had somehow further broken his friend. It had taken some explaining, but he had convinced Astrid to fly Toothless for a little bit and do the dives where he could listen. It had been a relief to hear that, no, he hadn't damaged his friend even more. Apparently it was some weird property of the Night Fury dive, and Hiccup had made a note in the growing stack of loose paper that was his, Fishlegs' and Astrid's notes on the newly peaceful dragons.

They were eventually going to make a clean copy of those and bind them into the new Book of Dragons. Fishlegs was probably going to end up being the scribe, as he had the most patience for quill duty of the three of them. And, being fair, the best handwriting.

Hiccup was still going to be stuck with doing the illustrations, though.

A few weeks ago, Astrid had found one of his sketchbooks and had spent the next day wide-eyed as she went through his sketches and drawings. He honestly hadn't seen what the big deal was—he drew what he saw in front of him, using big lines to catch the big details, and then working in from there as he had time. Sure, he practiced his sketching a lot—she had giggled at his sketches of his father and had given him a thorough kissing when she found the studies of her and of Stormfly—but it was just common sense, right?

But apparently it wasn't. She had asked for a portrait of her and Stormfly together, and that was now hanging in her parents' house. Framed.

And then Fishlegs had come up with the idea of doing drawings of each person's dragon, in order to write down a record book of who owned which dragon. And without thinking, Hiccup had agreed that it sounded like a great idea, especially after the whole mess over the stolen Zippleback.

On the positive side, Hiccup now knew that he could draw fifteen sketches of dragons, which were good enough to use to identify them, in an afternoon's time. As a side benefit, he also now recognized most people's personal dragons on sight.

And Astrid's massaging of his hand when it cramped up and spasmed had been a nice side benefit…

He smiled at the memory.

She was practicing too, determined to be as good as he was, but, for now, yeah, he was not only the chief dragon trainer and first dragon rider, he was the foremost dragon artist.

At least the Nadders were easy to sketch. With one fewer set of legs, there was that much less to draw. Also, once word had gotten around the dragons that he was drawing them, the vain Nadders had been happy to pose for him. The biggest problem was them getting impatient and wanting to see what he had drawn before he was finished. The odd thing was that none of the other dragons—not even Toothless, who he thought was smarter than the Nadders—could recognize themselves in his drawings. It was weird.

Toothless reached the top of the clouds again and they dived, the sea far below them. The water was beginning to turn green with the turning of the seasons as well, the waves forming even rows across its expanse. Soon the cod and tuna and herring and mackerel would be returning from the warmer waters to the south, and they would be fishing to their hearts' content. Hiccup was looking forward to seeing what men and dragons could do together when fishing.

He, of course, had already come up with some ideas, only two of which had been vetoed by Gobber and his father.

As they banked up towards the sky again, pulling out of the dive just above the wave tops, the spray of the salt water spattering against their faces, another dragon and rider came into view.

Snotlout was out exercising Hookfang, and Hiccup's face soured, and then he sighed. "Shall we say hi to them, bud?"

Toothless nodded, and made a beeline for the pair.

As they flew, Hiccup mused to himself. Of course, Toothless and Hookfang were friends, although Toothless was definitely the dominant one of the two. Just their luck that their riders weren't. Meanwhile, Toothless and Stormfly were cool acquaintances, although they had definitely been warming up to each other, given how often they were stuck spending time with each other. Hiccup suspected that it was mostly based on mutual amusement at their riders, and things had gotten a bit better after Yule and Mildew's attacking Stormfly.

Hookfang and Snotlout dove as Hiccup and Toothless approached, Snotlout yelling at the top of his lungs. Shrugging, Hiccup clicked the harness and they dove as well. A moment later, they had caught up with his cousin, and Hiccup and Toothless positioned themselves upside-down and above the other rider and dragon.

He waved, and Snotlout stopped screaming for a moment when he looked up to see his cousin nonchalantly falling towards the ocean without a care.

Hiccup waved and clicked Toothless's harness again, taking them into a faster dive. Righting themselves, Hiccup resisted the urge to look back at Snotlout's expression, because Hookfang had been falling at top speed, and they had left the pair of them behind as if they were standing still.

He could still hear Snotlout screaming behind him, though.

Pulling out of the dive just above the waves, he turned back to look, and winced, as did Toothless.

Hookfang was coming in awfully fast.

Snotlout was still screaming as the pair worked to pull out of the dive as Hiccup and Toothless watched.

"Uh oh," Hiccup said, then he and Toothless both winced as the other pair almost succeeded.

Hookfang's belly hit the water, and the red dragon and idiot rider went skipping across the waves like a stone.

Hiccup and Toothless watched, their heads bouncing and faces grimacing in unison, as Hookfang bounced once… twice… three times… four… across the waves before he managed to get enough wind under his wings to take flight once more.

Banking, they turned back to the soaked pair, who were gasping with the appreciation that only a near-brush with death grants.

"You two okay?" Hiccup called out.

"I totally meant to do that," Snotlout shouted back with transparently fake bravado. "It's all part of my Thawfest strategy!" He struck a pose. "What do you think?"

"Awful lot of screaming for something you planned on doing!" Hiccup called back.

"It was the first time we tried that! But, hey, it worked!"

The two boys and their dragons were flying upwards, gaining altitude, and then Snotlout pointed. "Hey, look, longboats!" He turned his head, mentally tracking landmarks. "Hey, Hiccup, doesn't it look like they're heading for Berk?"

Hiccup looked. A pair of longboats, wakes easily visible from up here, was indeed sailing straight towards Berk. "Sure seems so!" he called back.

Snotlout grinned and turned Hookfang's head towards the ship. "C'mon, cuz! Let's go say hello!" And, with that he and Hookfang dove again.

Hiccup sighed. "Let's follow them, bud, and make sure that they don't set the ships on fire or something."

###

"Look, dragons!" the cry came up from the bow, terror in the boy's voice.

The captain looked up into the blue sky, studded with clouds, and squinted. A pair of winged shapes were quickly heading towards them.

A moment later, the shapes of young men on their backs became clear, and he called out, "We're near! Just as the stories said! Berk has tamed dragons!"

He began waving his arms at the pair of dragons and their riders, and a few heartbeats later—a very brief time, as the captain's heart was beating fast—the two dragons began to circle the boat at a range of perhaps twenty or thirty yards, the young men, still beardless boys from what he could see, waving back.

"Hello the ship!" the one on the back of the black one called out, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Are you sailing for Berk?!"

"Indeed! We are coming for your Thawfest, with letters and tribute from King Adalwin ua Imair, King of Vedrarfjord! Can you point us the way?!" he called back. "I am Ragnell ua Imair, his kinsman and captain of these ships!"

"You're already on the right bearing!" the boy called back. "You'll get there just after lunch! Just be careful of the sea stacks! You might want to shift your heading a bit to larboard and then come around the coastline!"

"Much obliged! I look forward to meeting your chief, and his son the dragon tamer!" he called back.

The one on the back of the red dragon almost fell out of his saddle, he twisted around so hard at Ragnell's statement. Only a pair of belaying lines attached to his saddle kept him from hitting the waves a dozen feet below him.

Ragnell called out, "Boy, are you okay?!" as the young man clambered back into his saddle, his dragon straightening and leveling out to help him, which took them further away from the ship.

"He's fine!" the other boy said, a very odd tone in his voice that Ragnell could hear even from where he was standing, and then shook his head like a dog shaking off water. "I'll ride on ahead and let them know that you're coming!"

And with that, they both were gone, rapidly diminishing dots shrinking in the distance.

###

A few hours later, Hiccup stood next to his father on the docks, wearing his best furs and tunic and freshly bathed and groomed, watching ships come in.

He'd come back, told his dad, and promptly been marched off to the bathhouse, even though it wasn't Wash Day. Noble visitors were coming, and they had to look their best as befitting their positions as the hosts.

The first two ships to arrive, which he'd met on their way in over an hour ago, had been from Adalwin Ua Imir, the King of Vedrarfjord. That was a Norse city down on the south-eastern Eirish coast, from what he'd been told by Gobber in a hurried summary as they'd gotten ready for their arrival. Captain Ragnell had turned out to be a tall dark-haired Norseman with a weatherbeaten face, a ready smile, and a few missing fingertips that he claimed he had lost in a swordfight. When he'd been introduced to Hiccup as Stoick's son, there had been the exasperating (to Hiccup) glance by the man from him to his dad, and then back. Oh, yes, he could tell exactly what the man had been thinking.

But then another ship had arrived before they'd even had a chance to head back up the ramp to the village. At least he and his dad hadn't had to make two trips; Astrid had spotted this one, and she had come in with the news while he'd been getting scrubbed with harsh soap and doused with buckets of steaming water by Braun. They were from the Isle of Manau, carrying a messenger from King Echmarcach mac Ragnaill, who ruled over a good portion of the area around the Eirish Sea and had taken tribute from Berk many times when Hiccup was growing up, to keep the village from being raided. Certainly the king's man, Bran mac Muchada, another stout Norseman about the same age as his dad, hadn't changed; he looked like he had swallowed some unripe apples or something like that when he'd stepped off of the ship. He, at least, had met Hiccup before, and wasn't nearly as careful with hiding his contempt at Hiccup's scrawniness… which was oddly almost relieving. Hiccup had caught him sneering down at him at one point, and had simply leaned on Toothless's back pointedly with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

Now Bran's ship was emptied of his men and tied up at the dock, but the visitors weren't walking up to the village. No, they were sticking around to see who was coming in next. That was because another ship was about to sail through the sea stacks. The trio of horn blasts announcing its arrival had sounded while they'd been greeting Bran, and Astrid had flown down to tell them a few moments ago. The new ship had managed to sail through the waters around Berk unnoticed or at least unchallenged, by any of the riders who had been flying around all morning. Which meant that Hiccup and his dad had no idea who was aboard, although it was probably more merchants.

So now at least he had Astrid standing next to him. She was looking a bit windswept and soaked from sea-spray, with a giant grin on her face from her stunts in the sea stack maze on Stormfly. But they couldn't hold hands, due to the formality of the occasion. As far as everyone was concerned, her position here was that of another rider who had spotted an incoming ship.

As the newcomers pulled up to the dockside, his dad went up to meet them. One man from the new ship stepped forward to the edge of the gangplank and prepared to speak. Near him, Hiccup heard Bran take in a sharp breath and rudely call out, "Finnian mac Seamus!"

The redhaired Eirishman whirled and looked at the sea king's envoy. "Bran! What are you doing here!?"

"Paying a visit to a long-held ally, you traitor!"

Before things had a chance to degenerate further as Hiccup watched, his dad moved forward. "Captain mac Seamus! I welcome you to Berk and offer you my hospitality. Do you accept?"

The man bowed and nodded. "Aye, I do, on behalf of my lord, Ímar mac Arailt, King of Dubh Linn!"

There was a sudden scuffling noise from the direction of Bran's men, and Hiccup, his dad, and Astrid turned to look. Bran's men were looking surly and belligerent at the newcomers. Hands were on weapon hilts, faces were set with grimaces of anger, and more than a few crouched in fighting stances. Astrid commented quietly to Hiccup in a tone of sarcastic surprise, "Think they know each other?"

Hiccup snorted and said quietly back, "No, I think that this is just their way of saying hello. Must be some special tradition back where they come from."

Stoick rolled his eyes, either at their banter or at the behavior of his guests, and then walked forward until he was standing between the two envoys with a blunt expression on his face. "Aye, yeh have a history between yeh, but yeh are both here under my hospitality. If yeh don't like that, take it outside." He pointed out past the sea stacks, just as another ship was suddenly visible through the spray. Belatedly, the horn started blowing the three blasts alerting the village to an incoming ship.

Stoick sighed. "Head up to the village. We will have a formal welcome at dinner tonight. I'll have someone guide yeh."

As the two groups, watching each other cautiously, walked up towards the village and guest quarters, led by Snotlout, Hiccup walked over to his dad. "What's their issue?"

His father scoffed. "I don't pay much attention to the issues of outsiders, but this one's hard to forget. Mac Arailt and Echmarcach are both of the Uí Ímair." Hiccup nodded. They were the descendants of Ivar, the legendary Viking from a hundred and fifty years ago. "But they don't get along very well."

"Oh?" Hiccup asked with a smirk, remembering the look on Seamus's face when he'd seen Bran. "Why do I think that that's an understatement?"

"Aye, yeh are not wrong. Echmarcach used to rule Dubh Linn some years back… before mac Arailt forced him out."

Hiccup whistled and gave a nervous chuckle. "Yay. Great."

"Aye. And now let's see who stirs the pot next," Stoick said gravely. "I'd dearly love to know who this one is." He suddenly quirked an eyebrow. "Hiccup. Dragon patrols. Plan them and post them after we're done with all of this. I want to know who is paying us a visit in the future before they get to our harbor."

Hiccup nodded. "Sure thing, dad. Um… any guesses as to who that is?"

Stoick just sighed. "Trouble. Details to be determined."

The ship pulled in shortly, and another man stepped forward at the gangplank. "Greetings, Mighty Stoick, I am Maredudd ap Gruffydd, son of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn, King of Gwynedd! I bring greetings and glad tidings from my noble father on this happy day!"

Hiccup's father bowed and said, "Welcome to my shore, Maredudd. I accept your greetings and glad tidings, and offer you my hospitality."

"I most graciously accept!" the man said, and walked down the gangplank to shake Stoick's hands.

"We will be having a welcoming feast for you and the other guests that have arrived today," he said. "Please, come ashore and enjoy my hospitality."

"Thank you!" And then Hiccup watched the rest of the sentence sink in as the man paused and then looked at Stoick, eyes widening in surprise and a sickly half-smile slowly forming on his face. "Other… guests?"

"Aye. Yeh are not the first to arrive today. We've had envoys from Manau, Vedrarfjord and Dubh Linn… so far."

"I… I see. Thank you, my good lord," the fellow said with some difficulty.

Stoick smiled. "Aye. Here, this is my son Hiccup. He will show you and your party to where you can prepare."

The man looked at Hiccup and did a double take so intense that it was almost painful to watch.

Hiccup sighed to himself. Captain Ragnell had reacted pretty much exactly the same way.

He turned to the Welshman and said, "If you'll follow me, please?"

Still not recovered from his shock, the man mutely nodded. Hiccup just hoped nastily that he'd given himself whiplash with that double take.

As they walked up the ramp to the village, he tried to stick to the needs of hospitality, and not think dark thoughts at the men who had clearly expected someone… taller, to be the Dragon Hero.

But it was hard, and he kept thinking back to that moment on his doorstep the morning he had shot down Toothless.

Excuse me, barmaid! I'm afraid you've brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra large boy with beefy arms, extra guts, and glory on the side! This here, this is a talkin' fishbone.

At least his dad accepted him more… now.

But… well…

He scowled when he had an opportune moment facing away from the Welshman, which made Toothless look at him with concern. Then it was back to being a polite host, and he brought the man over to the bath house so that he and his men could freshen up if they wished.

It was already packed with the other visitors, and you could cut the tension between Bran and Finnian with a knife and use it as bricks.

Hiccup just handed them off to Braun and Hilda, and then fled with Astrid. He needed to get this off of his chest or rupture something.

###

That evening, Hiccup sat in the mead hall in the chair next to his father's throne, with about half of Berk present to watch the four outsider nobles come before their chief and politely grovel, in addition to most of a score of foreign traders that were unfamiliar to them; the latter had been dribbling in over the last few days, and wanted to petition the chief to be allowed to make a market at the festival.

His dad sat on his throne, the very image of a Viking barbarian chieftain. Next to them were Toothless and Thornado, sitting on carved stone slabs, and his father's council of advisers flanking them, featuring the four other clan heads, plus Gobber as steward, Spitelout as marshal, and with Gothi's chair currently empty as she blessed the assembly. Front and center before them were the outsider visitors, in a place of honor, occupying several tables all by themselves, nobles in front, merchants behind.

Hiccup just remembered the last time he tried sitting in his dad's throne. His rear hadn't touched the back of the chair, his feet had dangled off the floor, and he could have put his spread hands between his thighs and the sides of the chair without them touching. That had been so very utterly encouraging.

As Gothi went through the ritual welcome thanking Njord for his forbearance and wisdom in allowing the ships to cross his seas, Hiccup just stewed in his irritation and frustration. Apparently, when a king sent an envoy specifically to meet with the fabled Dragon Hero—and he was going to strangle Chestnut for that saga if he ever caught the skald alone in a room somewhere—they expected the Hero (capitalized; you could hear it) to look the part!

They didn't come hundreds of miles across the storm-blown sea just to see a scrawny talking fishbone!

A hint of motion caught his eye. Looking, he saw Astrid giving him a sympathetic, if wry, smile from where she was sitting with the rest of her clan. They'd had a good talk after he'd handed off the Welsh prince's party. Well. Mostly they'd talked. But they'd also had a few minutes unchaperoned, with the adults running around dealing with the sudden influx of visitors, so they'd taken advantage of the moment for some deeply enjoyable—and heavy—kissing.

Fortunately, they'd managed to keep enough control of themselves and their nuzzling so that they had been back to a demure and chaste personal distance by the time Gobber had found them. Hiccup had even managed to keep his formal clothes from being mussed, by some direct blessing of Freyja.

He gave her a wistful half-smile and cocked his head to the side, indicating the spot where Toothless was currently curled up. He would love to have her sitting there next to him, the two of them holding hands, until this whole agonizing formality was over.

She smirked and rolled her eyes upwards. Yeah… but there was the little hitch that she wasn't legally betrothed to him, and wasn't more than his girlfriend. On top of that, they weren't even legally adults yet—and wouldn't be until Manni's Day, after Thawfest—so even if they were betrothed, it would be "unseemly" for her to be up here with him as part of the family just yet.

Well, that was coming, if he had anything to say about it. He wanted her… and, by a miracle that he still gave thanks for every day to each of the gods, she wanted him. And when it came time for that… he'd show these outsiders that she hadn't picked poorly in him, that he wasn't some fluke or accident, that she'd chosen wisely… that he wasn't…

He sighed.

That he wasn't Useless.

That she wasn't better off with someone else because he didn't fit the image of the Dragon Hero that others imagined.

He'd show them all that she'd made the right choice… that he was good enough for her.

He caught one last sympathetic look from Astrid as the blessings concluded, and then shifted his attention to the four noble visitors, sitting at the tables nearby. He did his best to keep a scowl off of his face. Of the three new envoys, all three and their honor guards had looked at him in shock for not living up to their expectations.

Having Toothless next to him was helping… at least a little bit. Well, for certain values of 'helping.' Thornado was blase about the whole Thing, and just sat at the foot of his dad's throne. Toothless, on the other hand, was intrigued, and was staring at the visitors with his big wide eyes filled with curiosity.

Unfortunately, having a Night Fury stare at them with giant green and black eyes wasn't doing very much good for the visitors' self-control either. Hiccup had to keep a firm hand on Toothless's collar, and knew that the only thing that was keeping his friend from getting up and walking over to inspect the newcomers with a full sniff, and maybe a lick, was that Toothless could tell Hiccup didn't want him to.

Hopefully that would last through at least the introductions.

Hopefully.

He sagged in his chair for a moment before forcing himself to sit up straight again as Gothi finished with her blessing and resumed her seat.

In the expectant hush that followed, his dad stood and walked forward, looming over the noble visitors. "I greet all of yeh, who have traveled far and risked much. Yer bravery and skills are worthy of note. The hospitality of my hall is offered to yeh. I know that the journey was long and fraught, and not made lightly. Know that I know this, and extend my hand to yeh." He turned and sat back down. "Now, I believe that yeh have messages for me?"

All four of the noble visitors went to stand at once.

Bran looked at Finnian and sneered, while Ragnell tried to step forward first, and Gruffydd tried to push ahead.

"I claim the right to go first!" Bran said, trying to elbow his way to the fore as Hiccup watched, trying not to laugh. "I have spoken with Stoick before, and claim precedence!"

"And that's why you shouldn't go first! Let someone with less familiarity speak!" Finnian said heatedly.

As they argued, Hiccup leaned over to Gobber. "Why are they arguing like me and Snotlout, or the twins? I thought that they were supposed to be adults?" he whispered.

"None of them want to go last and get left in the shadow. They're all here bringing tribute, see the boxes? They want to make a good impression."

Hiccup snorted. "Well, they're doing a great job!" he said quietly.

Gobber laughed softly and then raised his voice. "Stoick, can I make a suggestion?"

His dad rolled his eyes as the nobles continued to argue. "Please."

Gobber chortled and said, "Gentlemen, gentlemen! Please! Might I suggest that we solve this in a simple, unbiased manner?"

They all paused and looked at Hiccup's mentor. "Aye?" said Gruffydd after a pause. In the background, a number of the Hooligans looked disappointed at the ending to the free entertainment.

"Aye. Since we won't be able to agree on who goes first by arguing over it, might I suggest that we go in alphabetical order?" Gobber said with a smirk.

The four nobles all looked at each other and then nodded.

Then Gruffydd said, "But in whose alphabet?"

There was a moment's pause as everyone seemed to consider the question… and before they could start arguing over that, Hiccup's dad sighed and said, "Mine, as host. And in order of yer kingdoms. Does that make yeh all happy?" His tone made it very clear that they had better be happy.

They all nodded like marionettes.

With that settled, Captain Finnian mac Seamus of Dubh Linn, a smile on his face, approached him and his father. He had a scroll in one hand and one of his honor guard at his side was carrying a coffer.

Breaking the seal, the captain gently cleared his throat and unfurled the scroll.

"'To Stoick the Vast, Chieftain of the Hooligan Tribe, Leader of Berk, Lord of Dragons, from King Ímar mac Arailt of Dubh Linn, I send greetings,'" he read.

"'We congratulate you on your victory, and your new dominion. Assuming that even a tenth of what the merchant told Us was truth before God, you have dared greatly and won glory and respect. I acknowledge you as a brother lord, and wish only peace between us. With my captain, I have sent you a gift as proof of my sincerity and my desire to see the two of us reach an accord. Sincerely, King Ímar mac Arailt of Dubh Linn.'" With a few fumbling motions, the captain rerolled the scroll and knelt before Stoick, extending the roll of paper towards him.

Hiccup's father took it and set it aside; even sitting, he was taller than the man was standing, and it looked… regal and impressive. Hiccup would just look like… well, like a child sitting in his father's chair, playing. "Thank you, and thanks to your lord for his kind words," Stoick said.

"And my liege's gift to you," the captain said, taking the coffer and a key from his man standing at his side, and handed both items to Stoick.

Opening the coffer, Stoick blinked and reached into it. "A book?"

"A Bible, my lord. Illuminated by the monks of Dubh Linn monasteries, with art that depicts the life of our Lord and Savior."

Stoick nodded gamely and returned a few platitudes to the captain, who moved off to the side to allow Bran to approach. The book was placed off to the side on a table, and Toothless sniffed at it and then made a face.

Over the next twenty minutes, the scene repeated itself three more times. Gwynedd offered a fine sword, once wielded by the Gwynedd King Llywelyn ap Seissyll. Manau sent a great war-ax named Arm-Biter, once the possession of a famous Viking. Vedrarfjord gave a substantial purse of copper coins. At their seats, Bran and Maredudd politely sneered at each other for having had the same idea.

Hiccup was doing his best to keep a straight face as he thought on what he was seeing and what Gobber had told him. He didn't like where this was going. Each of the other kings acknowledged his father, said that they wanted to be peaceful, and offered a gift.

It had taken him half of the presentation to realize that they were actually bribes. Gobber's comment about wanting to make a good impression… and the fact that Bran was giving his dad something valuable, and not the other way around, had bounced around Hiccup's skull, and he'd practically jumped in his chair when he realized that they were offering Danegeld to Berk. Bribes to not come and raid—or conquer—their lands. That was what Vikings had been doing for the last few hundred years, after all. Berk had been one of the bases of operation for the raids all up and down the Eirish, Alban, Welsh, and Saxon coastlines.

And now… thanks to him, things had changed. Berk wasn't the place of stubborn Vikings that barely managed to survive their war with the dragons anymore. His dad had an army of battle-hardened warriors now… who rode dragons. And who didn't have to worry about having to fight off raids every few nights anymore.

And given that his dad had paid Bran's lord tribute in the past to keep Berk from being attacked… and now the situation was reversed…

Yeah. Hiccup held down a scowl. It made complete sense that they were all expecting him to start conquering and raiding… just like they all did.

Captain Ragnell having finished with his own request for peace—which could have been the same letter as the one from the lord of Dubh Linn, with the names swapped out—he handed over the leather purse that clinked heavily to the chief and then took his seat again.

As his dad stood and thanked the visitors, Hiccup watched their faces carefully. Even as his dad promised peace and friendship, he could see that they were skeptical. Bran wasn't even bothering to hide it.

Well, they could believe as they liked. He wasn't going to let the dragons be used as weapons, not if he could help it. And while he might not be chief, the dragons would listen to him.

"—and I hope that yeh all enjoy this Thawfest. This year, my son is a man before Tyr, and, in honor of the victory that he won for us, we have added dragon contests to our games. We will be having races and other contests." Stoick clapped his hands as Hiccup rolled his eyes. His dad had an additional motive to adding dragon contests to the Thawfest games. He'd added just enough so that, if and when Hiccup and Toothless managed to beat Snotlout and Hookfang at them, they'd win the youth games… and deny the Jorgensons—and Spitelout—their perfect sweep for Snotlout. "Let us all compete for the favor of the gods on the contest field and not on the battlefield." He bowed and sat back down.

With that, the welcoming ceremony was over, and people began to mingle and socialize. The instant Hiccup let go of Toothless's collar, the dragon bounded over to the visitors, examining them with intrigued sniffs. Hiccup sighed as the men froze, one of them reaching for his weapon on reflex before freezing—realizing either where he was or that Toothless meant him no harm, Hiccup couldn't be sure.

He walked up. "He's just curious," he said to Captain Finnian, who was looking a bit worried at the dragon nosing at him. "He won't hurt you."

Toothless gave one last sniff of the man and turned, walking around behind Hiccup. The Eirishman visibly sagged in relief.

"See?" Hiccup said, bending to one knee, thankful for all of the practice he had put in with his new leg, and rubbing Toothless's ears. "He was just being friendly."

"Aye," Finnian said weakly. "Just like a giant, black scaly dog."

Someone behind him muttered quietly, "With bat wings and who spits fire…"

"Pretty much," Hiccup said to the Dubh Linn man, ignoring the second voice. Still kneeling, he winked at Toothless before scratching under his chin at that spot that the dragons liked so much. The dragon slumped to the floor with a thud and a happy purr.

The nobles and merchants blinked, and moved carefully away as Hiccup kept petting his friend, who was making happy noises. At least someone around here was having a good evening.

Then he felt a pair of hands rest on his shoulders and move in to start rubbing at his neck. He tilted his head back to see Astrid smirking down at him. "You look tense. You all right?" she asked in an innocent tone, eyebrows lifted knowingly under her bangs.

He smiled, stood with her help, and thought to himself that the worst of the evening was over. Thank the gods.

And things went nicely from there, even with the visitors staring at him like some exotic beast, and with the adults watching the two of them like hawks. He didn't even mind that much when he got dragged into the circle dance by Astrid and he managed to trip on his peg and the stump slipped free as he went flying. Because she was smiling at him and they would be adults soon and they would be together and everything would be all right.

Yeah. He was going to show the world that he was worthy of her.

###

The day of Thawfest dawned, cool and bright, and Hiccup was awake and ready for the spring festival, Toothless at his side, as soon as the sun was up above the horizon. There would be games, and food, and contests, and music, and traders from distant lands. Especially this year, given that, for some reason, a dozen ships from neighboring tribes and petty kingdoms had shown up, as well as Trader Johann and several other merchants, some from as far away as Normandy, by the Frankish kingdom.

He said as much to Astrid as they started walking through the paths in the town and nearby field where most of the festival was being held, his dragon tailing them close behind. It was complicated by Toothless wanting to poke his nose into everything, especially the food stalls.

Waving his arms around to indicate the entire festival, he said, "I mean, most years, it's just us, maybe the Bog-Burglars and a few of the other tribes in the area. But now? Six months after I make friends with Toothless, they all show up?" He shook his head and spread his arms wide. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on it."

Snotlout's voice spoke up behind him. "Don't you mean, 'it comes off'?"

Hiccup and Astrid turned to look at his cousin. Astrid scowled and looked at Snotlout. "Really? Really? You went there?"

"Hey, it's the truth!" Snotlout defended himself. "So, Coz, ready to get humiliated again this year? Because I'm going to take home the ribbons for everything, like I always do."

Hiccup sighed. "We're not kids anymore, 'Lout. But, hey, sure, if you want to get yourself humiliated for child-game ribbons in the last year we can play, and by a guy whose leg comes off, I'll be there." He smirked. "Remember that we added dragon races for the kiddie division this year."

Snotlout sneered and moved off.

Astrid sighed. "Can we please kick his ass at the contests this year? It is our last year being able to compete in the 'kiddie division', after all," she said in an innocent tone.

"Sounds good to me. You beat him at the physical stuff and Toothless and I will work at the dragon stuff, and send him home crying?"

"Deal." She bent over and gave him a kiss. Pulling back, she grinned evilly. "This year, I have a better chance." Indicating herself, she said smugly, "I got taller than him, and I'm going to kick his ass."

Hiccup took the moment to appreciate what she had indicated, and grinned at her. "Yep. You are. And you'll look glorious when doing it."

"Flatterer," she said, smiling.

"Honest," he replied, pulling in closer. "I don't like lying. I'm no good at it."

She laughed and gave him a friendly punch to the arm. "That's the truth," she said, shaking her head. "'Making outfits.' I still can't believe that that's what you came up with."

"And then you damn near broke my fingers."

"I said I was sorry. And I know that I made it up to you."

"And then the ax butt."

"Well, that you deserved."

"Yeah, probably. We did kidnap you afterwards. And then I got a punch and my first kiss out of it, so that definitely came out positive."

"Mmmh. I'd say that that whole thing came out good for both of us," she said, leaning in to give him another kiss.

After they had been at it for a good long moment, someone whistled approvingly, and they both looked up to see one of the traders standing nearby, giving them both a favorable look.

"Ah, don't mind me, lad, lass, I was just appreciating it. I wish you both the best. Been a long time since I was a young one, but I remember it nicely, and you two look like you're getting along just fine." He looked directly at Hiccup. "So, you be the Dragon Hero, then?" he said, indicating both Toothless and Hiccup's prosthesis with a jerk of his chin.

Hiccup nodded slowly. Sure, maybe he didn't like the title that much… but maybe it was time to start owning it.

"Aye, not what I was expecting," he said, which made Hiccup sigh. "But I was expecting someone ten feet tall who used dragon gut to floss his teeth, by the way the stories were by the time they got to me." He indicated his tent-stall. "Can I offer you and your fine young lady there anything, Mister Dragon Tamer?"

Hiccup cocked his head, looking over the man's stall-tent. He looked like a general goods seller, with a little bit of everything. "Got any ink or paints, paper, parchment?"

"Aye, maybe," he replied, and started rummaging through his supplies. "I think I got a nice red in here somewhere, and mayhap some blue. Lots of demand for those from the monasteries over in Eire." As he rummaged, he said, diffidently, "So, lad, I hear that you be the one in charge for all things dragon around here."

With a slow nod, Hiccup looked into the tent and said, "Yes… but, before you ask, no, they're not for sale. Any of them."

"Ah, well. Next year, perhaps?"

Hiccup made a non-committal, "We'll see, but probably not."

"Ah, well. Well, I have here a few pots of ink, green, black, blue and yellow, plus a nice stack of cowhide parchment. What can you offer me in exchange? Goods or coin?"

Hiccup reached for his pouch and opened it. "I have dragon teeth and scales, if that might be of interest."

"Teeth? So you have had to put down a few of them?"

Hiccup shook his head. "No, the dragons shed them and then new ones grow in." He laid out the fangs on the little table the trader had set up in front of him. "I've got some from Gronckles, which can crack rocks and make for good chisels, some Monstrous Nightmares, which are really sharp and make good knives, and this one is from Toothless here," he pointed to one stubby incisor in particular.

"You have a tooth from a dragon named Toothless?" the trader said with a laugh. "That sounds like a story."

"Not much of one," Hiccup said, pulling out some dried fish and turning to his friend, who obligingly opened his mouth to show the gums.

"Aye, lad, I see no teeth there, looks like they shou—God in Heaven!" the trader swore and jumped back as Toothless extended his teeth and snatched the dried fish.

Hiccup just turned back to the trader with an innocent look, as Astrid tamped down a snicker. "Yep. One of those teeth. Interested?"

"Aye." The merchant composed himself quickly and leaned in. "How about fifteen teeth per pot? Sounds like you'll have an easier time replacing them than I'll have getting more ink."

Hiccup nodded. "Sounds reasonable." He turned to Astrid. "But I don't have enough on me. Could you wait here while I go get some more from the chest?"

"Lad, I can wait. Here, let me put these aside," he said. "Is there anything you would like for yourself, lass?"

Astrid grinned. "Hmm… let me see… what do you have?"

"Well, I have some turtleshell combs and some amber necklaces…" he said, looking through the stall, before Astrid held up her hand.

"Any weapons?" she asked as he popped open a coffer with a key from his belt.

Hiccup cocked his head at her and said, before the merchant could answer, "I can make those too, you know."

She grinned at him. "No harm in seeing what he's got."

"Aye, lass, I have some hatchets, a dagger made by the smiths of Damascus, and a Welsh yew longbow," he said, shrugging.

Her eyes lit up at the mention of the dagger and bow. "Ooh. How much for those?"

"Hmm…"

A commotion sounded behind them, and they turned and looked.

Fishlegs was running through the festival at top speed, stumbling as he ran, and was heading right towards them, knocking people out of the way in his hurry.

"Hiccup! Oh, Hiccup, thank Odin I found you, she's gone, they took her, she's gone," he babbled.

"Slow down, Fishlegs!" Hiccup said. "What happened?"

"Someone kidnapped Meatlug last night. We got ambushed and they had nets and bolas, and they said they were going to kill me to keep me quiet and I got away and fell down into a hole and I just got out," he panted out in a rush of words.

Now that he was standing still, Hiccup could see that his friend's right ankle was grossly swollen, and that Fishlegs was obviously favoring it, along with a long slashing wound in his left forearm that was still weeping blood. Obviously Fishlegs had blocked a thrust that would have ended up in his throat with the meat of his arm.

Hiccup and Astrid looked at each other, and before he even realized it, Hiccup had hopped on Toothless's back, Astrid behind him. "You get that leg taken care of," he said to Fishlegs. "We're on it! We'll find her, promise!"

As Toothless took flight, Hiccup heard the merchant say in a very hard tone, "Boy, come here, I'll help you with that leg, you shouldn't be walking on it. I'll put your friend's things aside. You there! Call the chief, tell him what happened! Call for a healer!"

And they were up and away.

"Where's Stormfly?"

"In the stable by my house. I wanted her well-rested before the races. I fed her before coming with you to the festival grounds."

"Okay. Bud, we're heading for the Hoffersons!" He clicked the pedal and Toothless poured on the speed.

"Check the docks first!" she said in his ear. "See who is missing!"

"Good idea!"

They banked and overflew the harbor, Hiccup leaning left, Astrid leaning right, both of them furiously counting.

"I make two ships gone!"

"Same here!"

They banked around for another pass, Hiccup straining his memory to match up ships with owners.

He grimaced as he put it together.

"That's why they sent two ships!"

Previous Chapter | Summary | Table Of Contents Main | Next Chapter

Author’s Note: Oh, hey, look, plot! :D

#httyd #httyd fanfiction #httyd fandom #a thing of vikings #how to train your dragon

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inklingleesquidly · 7 years

Text

LEE SQUIDLY’S NEW GROOVE

After a long, agonizing recovery of performing the Charge Shot, Lee Squidly has given up on Turf Wars– leaving him with virtually nothing going on in his life.

That will all turn around when a chance encounter, watching family friend Coral dance ignites an interest in Lee he never imagined he would have. What will he learn from her? And what will Coral learn from Lee?

See a new chapter begin in Lee’s life, and see what new challenges he gets ready to accomplish before the events of Splatoon 2

Co-starring @yundarigods‘ Coral and featuring her big sister, Faviidea

Word count: 4,454

“–And then I said to her ‘If you think I’m gonna pass up a deal like this just because the translators are getting all flustered than ‘alors vous avez une autre chose à venir’!” Janine concluded a story in which she recounted one of her many dealings in the world of television

Her tale was met with hearty, uproarious laughter, “AH HA HA, HAHAHAHAHA, oh Cod, Janine, no one ever pulls one over on you.” The laughter came from Faviidea; a friend of Janine who welcomed the older woman into her modest apartment for a friendly chat. She slapped her knee and laughed so hard she nearly spilled the wine glass full of drink she clutched in her hand.

Janine confidently replied, “Ohh you better believe it,” she took another sip of the zesty beverage in her own glass. She had brought two things with her to meet Faviidea that day; one was a bottle of fine cider given to her by one of the foreign television producers she met during that meeting. The ingredients were grown, processed, and bottled at the producer’s private farm. “Isn’t that right Lee,” she gestured to her son, whom she had also brought along to the meeting.

“Heh-eh,” Lee chuckled nervously, “Trust me, you can’t.” If there was anyone who knew how difficult it was to fleece his mother, it would be him. He sat on the cloth love seat beside her; quietly listening in on the conversation.

Faviidea felt concerned though; he seemed to come without any entertainment and listening to two old ladies talk and drink couldn’t have been very exciting. She tried to involve the youngster wherever she could but still asked, “Are you all right Lee, this isn’t too boring or anything, is it?”

He shook his head, “No Miss Favii, I’m fine, really.” Neither he nor his mother said but he came along on his own accord as he didn’t have much else to do. Ever since recovering from his accident he stopped playing Turf Wars so Sundays without Squad Practice became rather humdrum. He got his weekend homework done as soon as possible and his friends were usually too busy on Sundays to meet him.

It was rare for Lee Squidly to have nothing to do.

Faviidea rolled her eyes at being called ‘Miss’ but she said, “Well, all right then. Anyway, so this happened to me the other day; I was at work and this customer—“

Her story was interrupted by the sudden opening of the apartment’s front door. “I’m home, Favii,” a voice came from just out of eyeshot.

The Inktoling woman readily greeted, “Welcome back Sis, come on in, we got company!”

“Ohh-ohh, we do,” the new arrival questioned apprehensively.

Encouraging them, Faviidea answered, “Yeah, come and say hi.” There was a brief pause thereafter, and the three cephalopods took notice of someone just barely peeking around the bend of the entrance to the room.

When it seemed like she confirmed the identity of their guests, the younger sister of the household walked in. “Ohh, hi Janine, hi Lee,” she greeted with a sincere smile and a happy wave to both of them.

“Hi Coral,” they both said; Janine smiled and waved with her fingers before taking another sip of her drink, and Lee waved with his whole arm.

Coral’s shoulders dropped slightly as she let out a little sigh, glad and relieved that it was the Squidlys; close friends of her family that came to visit.

Faviidea summoned her with a wave of her finger, “Come sit with us, have a drink.”

Janine nodded, “Yeah Sweetie, take a load off.”

“I’m sorry Janine,” Coral respectfully declined, “But I need to practice so I was just going–.”

“–Ohh that’s right,” Faviidea interrupted with a snap of her fingers. She remembered; “You’re gonna be dancing for the Spring Equinox Festival, right?”

Lee and Janine remembered that the arrival of Spring and Fall were celebrated by Octarians as it signaled the cycling of crops farmers could grow in Octo Valley.

Confirming, Coral nodded, “Mm-hmm, I don’t want to disturb you so I’ll just practice in my room and–.”

Once again she was interrupted by Faviidea who giggled and brightly suggested, “Jee jee, hey I got an idea, why don’t you show the Squiblys what you’ve been working on?”

This intrigued the mother and son but Coral seemed reserved about the idea. Her eyes went wide and she nervously peered off to the side, stuttering, “Umm—well—uh-huh—umm, Favii, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Faviidea clicked her tongue and replied, “Come on, why not? You perform all the time.” Despite her sister’s coercion, Coral just stood there, tapping her fingers against her purse and shifting her eyes from one side to the other. She never told Faviidea but she was only relaxed in front of crowds because she had practiced day in and day out long before she appeared on stage. That way she could do her dance routines even in her sleep.

Janine proposed, “We’d love to see it; have you ever seen an Octarian dance before, Lee?”

“At school, a long time ago,” he answered, barely able to recall the memory. “I wanna see, but if you’re too nervous, you don’t have to.”

He was being considerate of her feelings which made Coral smile but Faviidae still urged, “Just trust me, they’ll love it.”

“Well,” Coral inhaled deeply then exhaled in a long sigh, “Huu—okay, I’ll do it!” She gave into her sister’s urging. On her retreat to her room she called out, “D-don’t go away, I’ll be right back,” and left to prepare.

A short time later Coran returned; this time adorned in a beautifully designed kimono. Janine whispered to Lee that the style she wore was traditional to Octo Valley and different from the kind seen in Eastern Inkopolis. She also mentioned that the way she wore the garb and how she tied the belt was absolutely picture perfect. Coral gave her cell phone to Faviidea to connect it to their small speaker dock so she could have music to dance to.

With that; her impromptu recital began. Old timey Octarian acoustics guided the Inktoling as she rhythmically twisted and turned. With her feet covered by the long garment it looked as though she was gliding along the carpet while she fluidly waved and swayed her arms.

Every part of her moved in perfect harmony with the music. From every tilt of her head down to the most minor movement of her fingers and toes, the music flowed through her. Lee’s and Janine’s eyes were glued to her; they were captivated by her performance. They were especially taken aback by a shift in the melody that cued Coral to produce a pair of paper fans from within her sleeves. They seemed to come out of nowhere which baffled the mother and son but made Faviidea candidly smile.

She incorporated the fans into the remainder of her dance; swinging and waving them about and fluttering with them as she danced about.

Her performance soon came to a close with a finish that made Lee and Janine lean back and go silent until Faviidea put her glass down and began to clap for her sister. They joined shortly after; Janine stood up and applauded while Lee whistled and cheered. Faviidea encouraged, “Way to go! That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

“No,” Coral breathlessly smiled from ear to ear, “No it wasn’t.”  She brushed one of her tentacles out of her face; more out of breath from nerves as opposed to tiredness. She nodded to Lee and Janine, “I hope you two will come to the festival, I’ll have my dance perfect by then.” Next, she said to her sister, “Well uhh,  I’ll be in my room for a little bit.” 

Faviidea answered, “No problem,” and watched with a satisfied smile as Coral practically bounced with exhilaration back to her room. When she left, Faviidea returned to the conversation with Janine, “So anyway, here’s what happened, I was–.”

Her words droned into nothing in Lee’s head. He just sat in awe, still seeing Coral dancing in his head; he was still utterly captivated by her performance. Unable to get the vision out of his head, he suddenly got an idea; an idea he NEEDED to act upon.

He stood up, interrupting, “Miss Favii, can I please use the bathroom?”

In response, Faviidea’s lip curled in irritation; she didn’t like that he kept calling her ‘Miss’ but he was polite so she put it out of her head. “Sure, it’s down the hall,” she instructed, excusing him from the conversation. He followed her directions but took a detour to another room along the way.

Without thinking he opened the door to the room, barging in without knocking and called out, “Coral!”

“Eek,” the Inktoling shrieked, quickly whipping her head around as she covered her front with her arms. Her kimono was slipping down her body so she tried to grab it while desperately blathering, “Lee—get out—please!”

Suddenly realizing what he did, Lee sucked in his breath and babbled, “Eee—I’m sorry—I’m—I’m—!”

“Just close the door and let me get dressed,” Coral ordered, holding her garment with one hand while trying to cover up as best as she could with the other. Lee did as he was instructed, shutting the door to let her have privacy, and to take time to fully comprehend the idiocy of his actions.

Moments later, he heard her voice; “Okay Lee, you can come inside now.” Slowly, timidly, he peeked in. He saw her kimono neatly hanging on a hook attached to the outside of her closet door, and Coral, herself, dressed in a long terrycloth robe, sitting at her vanity table.

Before Lee said anything else he profusely apologized, “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to, I should’ve knocked, I didn’t—please don’t tell my mom!”

Coral halted him by holding up her hand. She sweetly reassured him, “Lee, it’s okay it was just an accident, I won’t tell your mom or anything.” She knew he didn’t have malicious intent so she wasn’t mad. After he relaxed, she asked, “So what’s up? Want to show me more of that game you’ve been playing?” Even though Coral didn’t particularly like video games she did like watching Lee since he got so excited about them. She quite liked this one about ghosts that he was currently obsessed with.

“Actually there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he had something else in mind.

“Ohh, what’s that,” she was genuinely curious; she couldn’t imagine what he could want from her of all people.

Lee didn’t hesitate, “CAN YOU TEACH ME HOW TO DANCE,” he blared out his request with all the excitement he had.

Thinking that she was hearing wrong, Coral squeaked, “Kuh—what?"

"Please Ma'am, I want to learn how to dance,” Lee repeated, the sparkle of wonder not leaving his eye as he restated his request.

Coral couldn’t believe it; sure she did love to dance, it was one of her greatest passions, however she doubted how good of an idea this would be. She suggested, “I don’t know, wouldn’t you feel better taking a class from an actual instructor? Also, don’t call me 'ma'am’."

"No way,” he replied, not wavering for a single moment. “Just—watching you was really really amazing, you’re so good, I umm– I-I want to learn how to do that kinda stuff, too!” He couldn’t completely explain it, especially without stuttering due to his brain being unable to catch up with his mouth. Lee wanted to learn, pure and simple.

Tapping her finger against her cheek, Coral murmured unsurely, “I dunno, I never taught anybody before.” She had never even entertained the idea of giving dance lessons. Not only that, she had her hang ups about people watching her when she wasn’t fully prepared to be seen.

Despite her reservations she knew he wouldn’t take no for answer, unfortunately. He really wanted this, and he wanted her help to make it happen. Coral couldn’t help but smile at that so she answered, “You know what, sure, I’d love to teach you to dance."

Lee couldn’t help but squeal in delight, as silly as it was, he was so excited! "Thank you, thank you, thank you, I promise, Ma'am I’ll try really hard!"

In response, Coral rolled her eyes and shook her head; "Stop calling me Ma'am,” she said under her breath. He was being polite but she didn’t like being called that; it made her feel old. Putting that aside, Coral picked her phone up from her vanity desk and sent a text message to Lee. “Meet me at this address tomorrow and we’ll get started on your first lesson."

After a quick skim of the directions and time, Lee said, "I’ll be there!” With that, the joyful boy left, his feelings of exhilaration lingering about in the room. It gave Coral a strange sense of anticipation; one that bewildered her for the rest of the night.

The following afternoon, Lee arrived at his destination, lucky enough he had been there previously. It was Madame Tiidae’s Dance Academy; Coral’s family was friends with one of school’s dance instructors so without a class going on she gave Coral access to one of the classrooms.

He greeted Coral who he found stretching at a ballet bar mounted to the wall. “I’m sorry I’m late, Ma'am,” he groaned, "I met a friend at the train station and I kept trying to tell them I had somewhere to be.“ The sounds of his soft steps on the sprung floor bounced all over the empty room as he approached his teacher.

She replied, "Lee, don’t worry about it, you’re actually a few minutes early—and don’t call me 'Ma'am’.” After he set his backpack down, Coral took a deep breath and reminded, “Like I said, I never taught anybody before so please, be patient with me, all right?"

Lee simply smiled, "You’ll do great, I know it!” He had so much confidence in her which put Coral a little bit at ease, “Now, what can you teach me first?"

Tapping her finger against her chin, Coral realized she hadn’t actually planned that, much to her dismay. In her mind, she quickly began to cobble together what could loosely be described as her lesson plan. "Let’s try—some basic exercises to uh—see how you are at this—kind of thing."

First was a simple test of stepping in rhythm to see how he could follow a beat. Coral was confused at first when he giggled and asked, "Is this the part where we start kicking?” She didn’t understand but none-the-less she clapped her hands and had him follow her timing.

Surprising to her, he kept in step, and even adapted well enough when she changed the speed. “Good job,” she praised, “Let’s see if you can follow these steps; watch me closely.” She performed a short series of steps for Lee to mimic. “Need me to show you them again,” Coral asked before stepping back.

“No,” Lee said, looking to be deep in thought, “I think I got it.” He showed by mimicking her movements exactly.

Coral nodded approvingly; then she gave him another set of steps, then a second, and a third, each increasing in the number of motions to remember. Lee managed to do them all without stumbling once.

"Wow,” Coral gasped while engaging him in another exercise. She was wagging her index finger, counting a beat while Lee followed with steps she instructed him to perform. “You’re a pretty fast learner,” she said eagerly.

Lee exclaimed, “Kinda, I just pay attention real well.” He gave a laugh as he mused, “Heh-eh If I could take notes then I’d be totally set."

As nerdy as he suddenly realized that was, Coral still thought it was funny. "Fee fee,” she laughed, holding her hand over her mouth, “Well, dancing is a bit too 'hands-on’ to be taking notes.” She stepped toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She said, “If there’s one problem though—that I think we should work on– it’s that you’re too stiff." Though nervous to give her critique, Lee wasn’t upset by it. She continued; lifting his arms to loosen him up, "Dancing takes your whole body so you gotta move everything!"

Lee gave her directions a try; beginning to move his arms along with his feet. The constant movement of multiple things was a bit too much for him, and it caused him to lose balance, nearly tripping. "Woop, oop,” Lee fumbled, catching himself. “Sorry,” was all he could say.

Coral stepped in, “Don’t worry, you’re fine,” she comforted, pushing him up by the shoulder to help him regain his stance. “Let’s try this,” she suggested, positioning his arms so he held onto hers, and she held onto his. “Do the steps with me and feel how I move my arms,” she instructed, beginning to move. Lee did the same, looking down for a moment to prevent from stepping on her feet but Coral proposed, “No, no, no, don’t look down, look at me. If you keep looking at me,” she suggested, “You’ll pick up the cues better."

"Gotcha,” Lee replied; a slight surprise to Coral that he was following her directions so willingly and keenly.

As she moved and swayed with him she commented eagerly, “You’re picking this up really fast, are you sure you’ve never done this before?"

Lee sucked in the air and his cheek while his lip curled into a lopsided smile. He said, "Actually—when I was a kid my mom and I took dance classes together."

"Really?"

"Yah-huh,” Lee nodded, “It was a lot of fun, heh-eh, I guess I kind of always wanted to do it again.” Memories came back to him of how much he enjoyed that time in his life with his mom.

Coral also commented, “You’re pretty quick on your feet to."

Mumbling for a moment under his breath, Lee revealed, "Well when you have to run away from stuff as much as I do, you gotta be."

Coral couldn’t help but furrow her brow and puff out her cheeks at hearing that. “Right,” she grumbled; cruelly reminded of how much her friend dealt with bullying.

She couldn’t understand; Why would people mess with such a sweet kid like him? Another thought came to her, But then again, my sister always said the same thing about me.

The thought of the bond they shared caused her annoyance to fade only for them to be interrupted by the door to the classroom opening out of nowhere. A tall anemone girl peeked her head in and gasped, "Ohh, Coral, you’re here?"

Looking back toward her, Coral turned and answered, "Hi Sandy and yeah I am, you said I could use this room."

"No I didn’t,” she mumbled before fishing out her phone from her purse. Lee and Coral watched as she scrolled through something before letting out a frustrated grunt, “Ahh shoot, I did, sorry girl but I forgot I had a class today and they’re coming in five minutes."

"What,” Lee and Coral unintentionally replied together; knowing the other classrooms in the dance academy were booked for the time, their lesson was prematurely over.

Coral knew she couldn’t be mad at her friend; use of the room was a favor after all. Her friend was also a bit of a scatterbrain so this wasn’t the first time she made a promise without completely thinking it through. Coral said, “It’s fine, it’s fine, well Lee, I guess we’ll have to take this up some other time."

He looked at her dissapointedly and was about to voice his displeasure when Sandy said, "I’m surprised, I thought you were teaching him from square-one but—say, did you finally decide to take my offer to represent the school for the city’s couple’s dance competition?!"

This caught Lee off-guard and was confusing to him but Coral rapidly answered, "Oh no, no, no, no way; I’m just teaching him is all.” Though he still had a lot of questions, Lee nodded; confirming the extent of their involvement together.

Sandy gave a defeated shrug, “Well suit yourself,” she sighed, “Still, take this flyer and think about it won’t ya?” She took a piece of paper from her purse and handed it to Coral. As she and Lee collected their things, ready to leave, Sandy offered a parting thought, “Besides, anyone taught by you will dance like they’ve done it their whole life."

As they were leaving, Lee skimmed over the flyer and asked, "The dances for this are the Waltz, Tango, the Foxtrot, and the Cha Cha; can you teach me them?"

He looked at her hopefully, only for Coral to enthusiastically reply, "Of course I can."

Lee gave a laugh, "Heh-eh,” and returned to studying the sheet of paper, “Well, if you entered this with somebody you would totally win it!"

While appreciative of his confidence, Coral explained, "I don’t think so, I love to dance, but I’m not really a competitive type."

"Me too,” Lee agreed, “But I feel like—I feel like I really wanna—.“ He paused to think, only for his face to completely light up. “Ma’am, I think we should enter,” he finally just blurted out.

Taken aback, Coral gulped, “W-what, and don’t call me ma’am,” she mumbled.

He reasoned, “I just feel like we should enter, I feel really-really confident about it,” more certain than he had been in a lot of things in his life. He punctuated his excitement by tightening his fists and looking at her with a twinkle in his starry eyes.

Holding her hands onto her purse and having a skeptical look on her face, Coral breathed, “I don’t know I just don’t think it’s a good idea."

Lee could only pout, he had a feeling he knew why she couldn’t, "If you don’t want to, I understand, I mean if you wouldn’t wanna dance with an amateur who’d make you look bad, I get that."

Coral gasped, he was being self-deprecrating yet that wasn’t the case at all. "No, no, no,” she said, “It’s not you at all—it’s me."

"Huh, how could it be you when you’re amazing at this,” he wondered.

Her hands fidgeted, and she tried not to look him in the eye as to avoid answering the question. How could she explain to him how massively self-conscious she would be under such circumstances? The thought of other people; judges, professionals, and people who probably danced longer than her watching her, and having to worry about possibly making her partner look bad—it made her knees shake.

Finally, she explained her feelings as best as she could, “Just thinking of all those eyes on me, it makes me really nervous."

She watched Lee’s head bob slightly, he seemed like he understood. He replied, "Well—I would be nervous too so hey, we could be nervous together!” Coral couldn’t believe her ears; that was so silly but it was one of the single sweetest things someone had ever said to her.

“Fee fee,” she silently laughed, covering her lips with her hand. That didn’t stop her from doubting the idea; she had other problems she needed to address. “Even then, I- I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable dancing with me."

"Huh?"

"In a lot of partner dances you have to be close with your partner, like, touching-close."

Lee merely shrugged, "Well if that’s what you gotta do than what’s the problem?"

He’s not getting it, Coral thought, How innocent is he?

She struggled to explain, "Well, you see, I–,” her hand hovered over her chest; there was one other major hang-up she had about herself besides her talent and that was her body. Her sister always joked that all the growth that should’ve gone to her height went to ‘other places’ and it internally and externally caused her grief her whole life. All the comments she got and stares; there were many times when she frankly felt ashamed about herself.

Lee was so nice; he never made comments or seemed to notice her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, and she didn’t want him to start. "-I just don’t want you to feel weird around me, okay,“ she repeated.

He gave her a look like he still didn’t understand, and he really didn’t. "Well if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t want to force you to but I promise if we did I’ll work really hard, I’ll practice the steps every night, and I’ll listen to everything you say! I wanna do this real bad,” he shook his fists as he said that, “So please Ma'am, gimme a chance, please!"

He really does want this, Coral thought; gazing into his eyes and seeing a burning fire in them. It was radiating so strongly that she felt her heart begin to quicken, and strangely her inhibitions about herself were slowly but steadily fading as well. It was so weird; he was a teenager but he was showing enthusiasm akin to a small child—like her when she was first learning to dance as a young girl.

She loved to dance so much and maybe; if she could pass that love onto him, this would all be worth it.

"You’ve really got me in a bind here, Lee,” Coral rested her hand on her hip and smiled, “But okay, for you, I’ll give it a shot."

He was so elated that he breathlessly gasped, "You mean it?! Ohh thanks, Ma’am; I promise I won't dissapoint you!"

Coral’s lip quivered and her eyes squeezed shut as she let out a grumble within her throat. "I know you won’t, but before we start,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. If they were going to see each other more often, there was something that needed to change.

She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, imploring, “Will you please stop calling me 'ma'am’?"

Her pink lipstick lingered on his face; strongly framed by the changing color of his flushed skin. "Ye-Ye-Yes, I’m sorry, Coral,” he stammered, fastly giving into her whims.

“Perfect,” Coral chirped happily, glad that 'ma'am’ business could finally be put to rest. She playfully fluffed his hair and said, “We’ll get started tomorrow, text me when you get out of school and we’ll start practicing."

Lee stammered, "Ye-yeah, YEAH,” though he was still flustered, he was ready and raring to go, to learn to dance and compete with Coral.

As for Coral; she had a long way to go with her bashfulness, but she was glad someone like Lee understood her.

#splatoon #fan fiction #nintendo #lee squidly #squidly stories #yundarigods

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silverfootstepswrites · 6 years

Text

Equinox: Spring [3]

Kakashi stopped by in the morning to pick up Biscuit. Sakura answered the door, holding an ice pack to her face. Her eyes were puffy after a night of crying. Her hair was still wet from the shower.

“Good morning,” he greeted her.

“Hi,” she mumbled, half-hiding behind the doorframe. “Sorry I was kind of a jerk last night,” she added.

Kakashi smiled. He held out an ice coffee.

“You weren’t a jerk,” he assured her.

Sakura’s hand curled around the plastic cup. His fingers brushed against hers as he let go. She took a step back into the house to set the coffee and her ice pack on a side table. And then she rejoined Kakashi on the porch.

Kakashi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really wanna stay and chat, but a traffic light went out on Main so I have to play traffic cop for a bit. At least until all the kids are in school,” he explained. Which would explain why she could see bright orange cones stuffed into the back of his cruiser.

“Well… it would make you a really bad sheriff if you didn’t go,” she pointed out.

“It would,” he agreed, still sounding just as reluctant. He dropped his hand. It slipped into his pocket instead. Kakashi’s eyes searched her face.

“Let’s catch up tonight? I’ve got a pork shoulder in the slow cooker,” he suggested.

“A homemade meal sounds really good,” she agreed. Kakashi’s shoulders relaxed back into the usual slouch.

“What should I bring? I could make a salad. Or pick up dessert,” Sakura asked, already wondering what Ino would have for sale today. She stopped talking when she realized that Kakashi was smiling at her. Like he was happy just to stand there and listen to her mumble to herself.

“Go. I’ll see you later,” Sakura told him. She gave his shoulder a light push.

Letting out a sigh, Kakashi held out an arm to her. “Come here.”

There was something special about Kakashi’s hugs. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, a kiss pressed somewhere to the top of her head. It was dangerous, in a way. Because it made her want to linger there.

“Kakashi,” she sighed, tapping on his chest. She felt herself smile when his arms tightened a little. She pulled away to look up into his face.

And there it was again.

For just an instant, his eyes were so sad. She squeezed his cheeks together with one hand.

“Go. I’ll be fine,” she told him.

Kakashi’s teeth closed around her knuckle. Nipping just a little. Not enough to hurt. Not enough to draw blood. Then he was smiling again. He was the Kakashi she knew.

“7?” he suggested. He took a step backwards.

“7,” Sakura agreed.

She watched him walk down the stairs, down the gravel path. He cast her a look over his shoulder. She waved him on. And when Biscuit looked back, she waggled her fingers.

He opened the door of his cruiser. Biscuit hopped inside, crossing over to sit in the passenger seat.

“Be good,” she said.

“Who’re are you talking to?” asked Kakashi. He leaned against the side of his car, waiting for an answer.

“Both of you,” Sakura called back.

Once Kakashi drove off, Sakura tried to get some work done. She wasn’t particularly behind on anything, but it always felt better to be productive than to mope. But her brain seemed to draw a blank whenever she tried to do anything work-related.

After a couple hours of frustration, Sakura pushed away from her desk. She grabbed her phone and her jacket.

It had finally stopped raining. But the ground was still squishy under her boots. And the air smelled like grass and fresh air- like it always did after a good storm. She peeked into her mailbox. The mailman hadn’t been by yet.

She considered going to Ino’s cafe. It would be warm inside. Ino would probably be pulling fresh scones out of the oven when she walked in or something equally delicious. The low hum of chatter in the cafe was soothing in its own way.

Pulling her hood over her head, Sakura headed down the sidewalk. Tree roots had grown under the path, displacing parts of the walkway. She paused by the tree, hands in her pockets as she stared up at the bare branches. If she squinted, she could see tiny green buds beginning to form at the ends of the branches.

Her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans.

Hey. I’ve got a weird question.

Sakura blinked a few times. It was from Itachi.

Sure, she replied.

Do you have a record player I could borrow?

Sakura thought for a moment. Vintage or modern? she typed in response.

Itachi’s pulled up in the driveway half an hour later. It was a compact blue car, even smaller than her little red sedan. As he got out of the car, he leaned back inside to grab something from the seat. When he straightened, he spotted her sitting on the steps leading up to the porch. Her chin rested in her palm.

“Hi?” he called out. There were a few records tucked under his arm.

“You got the goods?” she demanded, eyes narrowing.

Itachi reached back into the car and retrieved a takeout container. He approached, holding it out. When he was close enough, Sakura sniffed. She could smell the garlic and spices through the lid. It was mouthwatering.

“Why were you sitting outside?” asked Itachi as she got to her feet. He followed her into the house, kicking their muddy shoes off on the patio.

“I like how it smells after it rains,” she replied.

Sakura dug into the spicy chicken and the still-steaming jasmine rice. Itachi leaned against the table as he watched her eat. After her fourth bite, Sakura lowered her fork.

“You know, the point of this was for us to both eat,” she told him. She speared a piece of chicken on the end of her fork. When she held it out to him, he wrinkled his nose. Sakura lowered her fork.

“So…just fruit?” she inquired.

“And vegetables. I’m vegetarian,” Itachi added.

“Oh.” She popped the chicken in her mouth. She thought as she chewed. “Is that a you thing or a vampire thing?” she then wondered.

Itachi chuckled. He leaned his elbow on the table. “It’s a my-kind-of-vampire thing, I guess,” he replied. Sakura nodded. She nudged a piece of baby corn around the styrofoam box. She stole glances at him as she finished her lunch. But he caught her as she struggled with a piece of slippery mushroom. His eyebrows rose.

“I don’t know much about you. I’m just… curious,” she admitted. And then she speared the mushroom on her fork. “Nosy, maybe.”

“Curious and nosy are two different things,” Itachi protested. Sakura smiled a little.

Itachi tapped his fingers against the tabletop as he thought. And then he tilted his head. “Tell you what, it’s easier if you just tell me what you know. I’ll fill in the gaps for you,” he offered.

Sakura bit her lip as she nodded.

“Okay. Well… there’s… two types of vampires?” she began. Itachi nodded a few times to encourage her.

“There’s the Sanguine. That’s, like, Count Dracula, right?”

Itachi nodded again.

“And there’s the… I know there’s other names for this, but I can’t remember it,” sighed Sakura. And then she added, “Sorry.”

“It’s not a sin not to know something,” replied Itachi. And then he leaned back in his chair. It creaked.

“The Sanguine vampire that you’re thinking of, those are called hematophages. And the Tropical vampires are nectarivores,” he laid out for her. When he spotted the look on her face, he laughed. “Yeah. Kind of a mouthful. I know.”

“But hematophages are super rare nowadays, aren’t they?” Sakura recalled reading in an article somewhere.

Itachi’s lips curled up. But it wasn’t really a smile. “Yeah. They were hunted to the brink of extinction by humans. Kind of karma, in my opinion.”

There was something bitter that lingered after his words. Sakura lowered her fork. She pushed her food to the side. Folding her hands on top of the table. Waiting.

“Well… nectarivores like me… they’ve always been considered… less than those that drink blood. We’re not as strong and we don’t live as long. So my kind wasn’t treated very kindly,” admitted Itachi.

“That’s awful,” Sakura sighed.

“Humans are wrong about… most things when it comes to supes. But they were damn good at hunting down vampires. So when most of the Sanguine vampires were gone, my kind were able to come out of hiding.”

“Does that make you sad?” asked Sakura.

“Yes and no. My family’s mostly nectarivores but… we’re mixed somewhere up there. So… it complicates things,” he said, shrugging.

“Oh.”

Sakura fell silent.

She watched as Itachi picked up her fork. He speared the last piece of chicken on the end and held it in front of her mouth. Sakura opened her mouth to let him feed her. Itachi placed the fork back in the takeout container.

“But never mind that. Let’s get down to business,” he declared. Sakura smirked at him as she chewed.

“To defeat the Huns?” she teased.

Sakura washed her hands. And then she made Itachi wash his before she led him up to the loft. He didn’t seem to know where to look. That seemed like the usual reaction for people who came up here for the first time. In the end, his eyes settled on the glowing neon sign above her desk.

“Let’s see…” she mused. She headed to the industrial shelf on the left side of the loft. Itachi lingered at the top of the stairs. Sakura shifted her drumstick case to the side. When she found nothing, she crouched to shift her guitar. She found the hard box buried in the back.

“Aha!” she declared.

Sakura picked up the box with both arms. She brought it near the coffee table, setting it on the rug.

“And there’s also…” she mused, rubbing her hands together. Itachi crouched beside the box and flipped the latch open. A whistle left his lips as he peered inside.

“That’s a beauty,” he declared, staring down at the record player. It was completely black with a thin strip of cyan running around the base.

“Yeah. It’s pretty. But it hums a little. It’s not awful though,” Sakura replied over her shoulder.

Itachi lifted his chin to watch her. She crouched next to the huge bookshelf next to her desk. She opened up the cabinet doors at the bottom. Itachi’s jaw dropped.

“I’ve got a Marantz. But the Clearaudio has the best sound quality, in my opinion. The Debut Carbon is decent too,” she said, pointing to each one. They were lined up on the shelves, in different shapes and sizes.

“Why do you have this many record players?” questioned Itachi. Sakura got to her feet. And then she thought it over.

“…Huh. I don’t know. I guess… I just… like collecting things,” she replied.

They spent the better part of the afternoon playing records on the different players. And when Itachi had run out of records, Sakura pointed out her collection, which took up an entire shelf. The vinyls ranged from soul to 50s rock. She had several modern albums too.

Itachi picked a sleeve off the shelf and her eyes lit up.

“Oh! I sampled that one in a song not too long ago,” she told him.

Itachi looked at her. “…Can I hear that?”

Sakura spun in her chair. She clicked her mouse to wake her computer up. It took her a few seconds to find the right file. But before she played it, she whirled back around to point at him. Itachi drew an X over his heart with his pointer finger.

“I promise not to accidentally leak this to your rivals,” he assured her.

“Copycat,” she corrected.

“To your copycats,” Itachi amended.

After a while, Sakura mentioned that she had plans soon. Itachi headed home, the cheapest record player held in his arms. It was packed up in a sturdy case. But he still treated it like it was a delicate basket of sleeping kittens.

“I’ll get this back to you as soon as I get mine fixed,” Itachi promised as she walked him to the door.

“It’s no rush,” Sakura told him for what felt like the millionth time. Halfway down the steps, Itachi turned to look at her.

“Oh. And don’t forget about the fundraiser next week. You asked me to remind you,” Itachi added.

“What kind of person throws a fundraiser on a Tuesday night?” Sakura grumbled.

“The kind of people who don’t have to wake up for a 9-5 the next day,” snorted Itachi. That made Sakura laugh. She waved as he ducked into his car.

Sakura could smell something amazing outside Kakashi’s house when she arrived a couple hours later. The dogs were lined up in the window when she parked her car. As she stepped out, Pakkun spotted her and began howling. Bouncing up and down. This sent the other dogs into a frenzy as they began yapping too.

She stepped up the path, aluminum tray balanced in her arms. The front door was open. Just the glass storm door kept all the dogs contained. And they crowded around, obscuring the welcome mat. Biscuit’s nose was pressed up against the glass.

“Hey, you lil stinkers, I’m not coming in if you’re acting rowdy,” Sakura scolded.

Biscuit began licking the door.

“Sit!” Sakura ordered.

Bull sat on top of Pakkun. Shiba sat on top of Kakashi’s shoe. Biscuit settled down too, still staring up at her with big, wet eyes. Once the dogs had settled, Sakura opened the storm door to step inside. As soon as the door swung shut, the dogs swarmed her. Tails slapping each other as they each tried to get as close to her as possible.

Kakashi leaned against the doorway leading into the kitchen. He watched her attempt to wade through the small sea of dogs.

“Kakashi,” Sakura sighed when she finally noticed him.

Kakashi chuckled. Sticking two fingers in his mouth, Kakashi gave a high-pitched whistle. The dogs dispersed, ears twitching as they looked at him.

“Thanks,” she said. She crossed the living room. He peeled back the corner of the foil covering the tray.

“Biscuits?” he asked.

And then they started when something bumped into their legs. It was Biscuit, who had padded over at the sound of his name. They laughed. Kakashi leaned down to rub between his ears.

“Whatever happened to salad?” commented Kakashi, taking the tray from her.

“Biscuits can be a salad. It’s like a flour and butter salad that you toss in an oven,” Sakura sniffed. She reached down to lift Pakkun into her arms. “Isn’t that right, Pakkun?” she asked him. The pug responded by licking her nose.

Kakashi’s roast pork was amazing. The kind of melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness that she had only thought existed in the restaurants she saw on Instagram. They helped themselves to seconds and thirds. And Sakura ended up lying on the floor in front of the fireplace. Pakkun lounging in her lap while Biscuit snuggled against her side. Sakura rubbed her stomach.

“You know, it’s days like this that I’m glad for stretchy clothes,” Sakura told Kakashi as he walked into the room. Sticking her thumb into the waistband of her pants, she tugged. The elastic snapped against her skin.

Kakashi settled on the floor beside her. Shiba wormed under his hand, demanding a good scratching. Kakashi obliged. But as he did, he also glanced over at Sakura. And the weirdest look flickered across his face.

“What?” she said, wondering if she had smeared something on her face. She rubbed at the corners of her mouth.

“Nothing,” Kakashi responded, shaking his head a little.

“Tell me,” Sakura insisted.

“It’s not important,” Kakashi deflected.

Forehead wrinkling, Sakura sat up. She jiggled her leg. Pakkun hopped off, shaking his head until his collar jingled. She scooted closer to Kakashi.

“Are you saying that your opinions aren’t important? I will fight you, Sheriff. How dare you talk that way about Kakashi in front of me, Kakashi?” she scolded jokingly. But something in Kakashi’s expression softened when she said that.

“You have to swear not to laugh at me. Because it’s cringeworthy,” he warned her.

All joking disappeared from her face. She rested her hand on his knee as she looked into his eyes. “Yeah. Okay,” she agreed.

“I was just thinking that… the house feels… right when you’re here. Kind of weird, I know,” Kakashi confessed.

Sakura shook her head.

“Not weird at all. Sweet,” she told him instead. She moved her hand to rest on top of his. He flipped his hand over, lacing his fingers through hers. She squeezed a little, smiling again.

The weekend passed in a blur. Then it was Monday, and Sakura was walking into the office, coffee in one hand. She poked her head into the smaller studio to wave at Temari. But someone was in the recording booth, so Sakura left without striking up a conversation.

‘Sorry,’ she mouthed to Temari, who just waved in return.

“Hey. There you are,” Hidan said as she stepped back into the hallway. When he came closer, she punched him in the arm. Hard.

“Fuck! Ow!” he complained. She punched him again.

“Alright! I’m sorry!” Hidan exclaimed, trying to dodge her fists. He didn’t have to ask why.

“You asshole!” Sakura retorted. She managed to seize his arm, pinching the skin between her fingers. He let out a silent howl of pain, rubbing his palm up and down his bicep.

“Okay, I feel a little better now,” she declared.

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” muttered Hidan.

“Your fault for snitching. Why’d you tell Tobirama where I live, you jerk?” Sakura demanded. Hidan continued rubbing his arm.

“He said he wanted to talk to you. Figure things out. And plus, he’s the boss. Co-boss. Whatever,” muttered Hidan. But then his eyes widened. His head whipped around so that he was staring at her again.

“By the way, they’re both in a meeting right now. The door’s locked and they look super serious,” Hidan told her, almost whispering. Which was a feat for Hidan, who was usually bordering on a yell or already yelling.

“Maybe they’re talking about money,” Sakura guessed, shrugging.

Hidan shook his head. “Nah. It’s… well I dunno…”

“Great. You’re absolutely useless, Hidan. Thanks,” she snorted.

Hidan put his arm over her shoulders. She considered pinching him again until he spoke.

“Like I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Madara looked mad,” whispered Hidan.

Tobirama always looked mad. That was practically his trademark. But Madara was always smiling. Or at the very least, looking smug. In fact, Sakura had never been on the receiving end of Madara’s anger before. She planned to keep it that way.

Sakura was quiet as she thought.

“Should we go spy on them? I’m better at lip-reading than you are,” she suggested. Hidan nodded. Arms slung over each other’s shoulders, they crept down the hall, towards the elevators.

#writing #equinox #equinox: spring #multisaku #itasaku #kakasaku

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