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ackerslut · 3 years

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I hear you like prompts? Well I am well known for. The List. *unrolls scroll* sick fic, jealousy, fighting suitors, hostage situation, hypothermia, use of safe word, spa day, ruddiger v Hugo

AO3

It’s midday by the time Hugo finally deems his companions worthy of his company.

They’ve been staying at a small estate in Galcrest, with some friends of Nuru’s family who were kind enough to put them up for the weekend.

The last few trials have been grueling--if Varian’s being completely honest--what with the cave of mirrors and the hall of memories haunting Nuru’s nights and Yong’s smiles and Varian’s everything. So a break in what their gang was affectionately nicknaming “the air kingdom” seemed in order.

The first few days go by fine--Nuru drags Hugo out to the marketplace, talking shop about swords and armory to her heart's content, while Varian and Yong scour the countryside and set off fireworks in the clear skies.

It’s exactly what their group needs to get back on track--a little rest and a lot of free time to relax and get to know one another better.

Then Hugo shows up for breakfast one morning and all of Varians’ optimism flies out the window.

“Whoa, are you sick?” Yong says, popping his head out of the pantry. “You look terrible.”

Hugo sends him an irritated glance. “No,” he says and then immediately sneezes. “I’m not sick,” he says, peevishly when they all continue staring at him in silence. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks.

Nuru places a hand on his flushed forehead that he immediately swats off. “You’re burning up,” she says with a frown. “Did you leave your window open last night?”

“More likely that he got it from town,” Varian mutters. He seems to remember a kindly merchant lamenting about his daughter coming down with a spring cold. Dammit Hugo.

“I’m going to heat up some soup,” Yong says decisively, already making a bee-line for the cupboards.

“I don’t need soup.” Hugo literally cannot sound any more like a sulky pre-teen right now. “What I need is for you all to stop ganging up on me.”

“What you need is a doctor,” Nuru mutters.

Hugo turns his scowl on her.

“How about this,” Varian says, once again playing diplomat between his two best friends, “Hugo eats the soup, and Nuru doesn’t make him see a doctor.

Hugo and Nuru continue to eye each other for a moment before Hugo mutters out an annoyed “fine.”

Varian has a feeling that today is going to be an exercise in not dumping his best friends.

____

About three hours into the “Hugo is pretending that he’s not sick” fiasco, Nuru has decided she’s had enough.

“I’m taking Yong to town,” she says, wrapping a scarf around the younger boy. “If the idiot won’t see a doctor, than I’m at least going to get him some medicine.”

Varian, who was the person who had to deal with Hugo throwing up in the bathroom half the afternoon, privately agrees.

“Is there anything I should do?” he asks, not exactly sure what to do with sick people. His dad never got sick and Rapunzel had about a million physicians taking care of her whenever she contracted some illness or another.

“Try and keep him in bed. I also left some tea leaves in the kitchen, if he feels up to drinking anything.” Nuru adds, halfway out the door. “I know you want to kill him most of the time, but it would be most inconvenient to hide his body.”

Varian rolls his eyes. “I’ll do my best,” he says, dryly.

He doesn’t actually plan to antagonize Hugo--let alone kill him. Despite the fact that the blond still manages to annoy him on a daily basis, he’s also kinda friends with the guy now.

They’ve fallen into an easy companionship with mutual banter and annoyed antics that usually have their friends up in arms, but it works for them.

Besides, the guy just looked far too pathetic, dry heaving in the sink this morning, to give him a hard time.

A few minutes after Nuru and Yong leave, Varian makes his way to the room Hugo is staying in. At first glance, the place appears empty--bed unmade, small sitting area absent of life--but after a quick scan of the large room, Varian finds him.

Hugo sits on the window seat. His legs are drawn up under him and his head rests against the wall. The breeze filtering through the open window brushes his hair back from his forehead and makes the open collar of his white, unbuttoned shirt, fluttering slightly.

Something about the sight of him--flushed, exhausted, unguarded--twists something in Varian’s stomach.

“Hey,” he says, voice cracking too loudly in the quiet.

Hugo doesn’t turn his head, but his shoulder inch up slightly. “Hey,” he says back, eyes glued to something outside the window.

Varians’ eyes narrow in on the gooseflesh raised on the skin of his neck. With a sigh, he snatches a blanket off the bed and goes to Hugo, draping it over his shoulders.

Hugo turns his head at that, blinking up at him owlishly through round glasses. “Oh,” he says, like he’s just noticing Varian’s here. Which is concerning. “Thanks.”

Varian shrugs a shoulder, throwing himself on the other side of the window seat. It’s a large enough space--or maybe Varian’s just short--for the two of them to sit without touching. Not that Varian’s thinking of touching him.

An uneasy silence--on Varian’s part, at least--falls over them as Hugo continues to stare blankly out the window. His usually brilliant green eyes are glazed over, enhancing the flush that’s spread from his face, down his to his neck.

He sniffs a couple of times, nose wrinkling.

“Nuru wants you to drink some tea, I think,” Varian says, tapping his fingers against his knee nervously. “I can go get some for you if you wa-”

“It’s fine.” Hugo’s voice carries no intonation. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Varian says, in a very measured voice. The last thing he wants to do is upset the guy right now.

Hugo’s eyes shut. His lips press together tightly, but not out of anger. He looks like he’s just barely holding it together, and Varian doesn’t understand why.

Or, maybe he does. Varian used to be very open and free with his emotions, but over the past few years--since everything in Corona with his dad, the amber, Cass--Varian has gotten used to putting up shields around his heart. Vulnerability was a very scary thing, especially with those you cared about.

Hugo didn’t seem to be the type of person who liked to show weakness.

A particularly chilling breeze brushes through the window. It’s enough that even Varian is shivering at it’s touch.

He reaches out slowly and gently pulls the blanket around Hugo tighter. Hugo’s eyes open at that, watching Varian with an unreadable emotion.

“I think you should lie down,” Varian says.

Hugo shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Hugo-”

“The bed’s too soft,” Hugo exhales, sounding embarrassed.

Something in Varian’s stomach twists painfully. The year after prison hadn’t been easy, but most of it was just getting used to being able to walk around without having the entirety of Corona’s military breathing down your neck. The other half was getting used to how soft his threadbare bed in Olde Corona felt.

Varian gets it. He doesn’t know Hugo’s story yet, but he gets it.

“Lie down here then,” he coaxes, one hand coming up to cup his neck. It’s warm--too warm. The worry simmering in Varian’s gut flares.

“What, on you?” Hugo snorts, sounding--if for a moment--a bit like himself.

Varian feels his own face flush about as badly as Hugo’s face is right now. “Would it make you feel more comfortable?” he asks, voice pitching up high.

Hugo’s stares at him hazily, the fever most likely getting in the way of his higher processing powers. “Yeah,” he says, looking not quite all there. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

And then he flops face first into Varian’s lap.

Varian lets out a surprised laugh, one hand going to his hair. “Okay then,” he says, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“Mmphf.”

Varian snorts, coaxing Hugo into rolling over so that he can at least breathe. “Why do I put up with you?” he mutters, more amused than exasperated for once.

Hugo blinks a couple of times at him. “It’s weird,” he says at last. “You’re weird. I’ve never had someone who’s wanted to put up with me before.”

Varian’s hopes Hugo can’t tell his heart just shattered into about a million pieces. “Well, you do now,” he says, easing Hugo’s glasses off his face and delicately placing them on the nearby end table. “You have three people, in fact, who are willing to put up with your dumb ass.”

The blond squints up at him. “But you were first. That’s-” he gestures gracelessly with one hand, “-that’s important.”

Varian smooths his hair back from his forehead, mentally taking note of the amount of heat coming off his flushed skin. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.” Hugo’s eyes close. “You keep doing that. Surprising me.”

“Well someone has to knock your ego down a few notches.”

A ghost of a grin. His eyes open again, almost as if he’s worried Varian has left in the few seconds he stopped looking.

“Hugo, go to sleep,” Varian chides. He runs his fingers through Hugo’s hair again, hoping it will draw him into sleep. “I can continue to surprise you tomorrow.”

“You’re surprising me now,” Hugo mumbles, but he’s becoming more and more pliant with each pet of Varian’s fingers through his hair. “Don’t go anywhere, ‘kay?”

Varian swallows. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “Now go to sleep.”

Hugo’s eyes finally drop shut, breath evening out. Varian leans back against the wall, one hand in the blond’s hair. The weight of the other boy is both grounding and sends strange flutterings to Varian’s stomach that he doesn’t understand.

Hugo lets out a small snore in his sleep. It’s adorable. Hugo’s adorable, Varian realizes, much to his horror.

Another breezes brushes in through the window, setting the white, transparent curtains afloat in the air. Hugo shivers slightly, curling up closer around Varian.

His face is pressed somewhere between his thigh and stomach, one arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Varian runs his fingers through Hugo’s soft hair again and comes to two realizations simultaneously.

Varian has feelings for Hugo. Positive feelings. Fluffy, mushy, fluttering feelings that reside somewhere between his aching heart and the butterflies in his stomach and Varian wants to cry or throw up or maybe kiss the dumb blond until those feelings settle themselves.

Hugo might--a very, very tentative might, because Varian isn’t great at reading other people at the best of times--just might have feelings for Varian. Maybe.

That’s important, he had said, eyes glazed, pupils dilated, lips parted. You keep doing that. Surprising me.

Varian shuts his eyes. Yeah, he’s totally and utterly fucked.

#varigo #hugo vat7k #varian #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k #my fic #my fanfic #tts #vat7k #writing prompts

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deathbytitanium · 7 years

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Tattoo (A Nessian Fanfic)

“You should get a tattoo,” Cassian whispered. He was tracing random patterns on my bare skin, that was still sweaty from our lovemaking.

I smiled up at my fiance, rolling my eyes a little, “I’d never know what to get, Cass. What if I regret it later?” I started tracing the tattoo he had on his chest. He had exquisite taste in tattoos. His chest piece was so arresting the first time I saw it I just stood there, staring like an idiot. I can still remember the cocky smile he gave me when he realized what I was doing.

“I won’t let you get anything I think you might regret.” he smiled and kissed me sweetly, “It doesn’t have to be huge or anything, I know you’ve been wanting one.”

I nuzzled deeper into his chest, “And how do you know this?” I knew he probably just knew everything about me at this point.

He laughs a little, “I have Pintrest exclusively to know what you’re up to. You have been liking and pinning a bunch of tattoos.”

I laughed at how silly he was for keeping tabs on me even in the little things.

“Come on, Nesta. I’ll take you to my artist, you can see his designs, get a tiny one somewhere only I can see.” he started nibbling my neck, I suspected because he was lobbying for round two.

“And if I want to get a huge one where everyone can see?” I asked defiantly, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Mmm,” he spoke against my neck, “Less hot, but you can do what you want sweetheart, I’ll still love you.”

“What do you think I should get?” I ask, torturing him a little bit.

He nibbled my collarbone, “Mmmmmmm… my name, right under your awesome breast.”

“That’s super cheesy Cass.” I rolled my eyes at him as he intensified his assault.

“Super hot to me.” he disagreed as he continued kissing and nipping at my neck, reading me for round two.

—————-

I flipped through Cassian’s artist’s portfolio. On our way here he told me that he trusted the guy and that he had tattooed him and his two brothers Az and Rhys. He had a very impressive selection and they were all beautiful. It made me a little grumpy because how was I supposed to pick one if they were all so amazing.

“Why are you frowning, sweetheart?” Cassian asked, his voice filled with teasing as always.

“I can’t choose!” I grumbled.

“I told you, my name under the absolute present from the gods that is your breast,” he said reaching for me in an obvious attempt to cup my breast.

I smiled, swatting his hand away from me, “Stop with the PDA, Cass.”

He pouted exaggeratedly, “But I like being publicly affectionate with you.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

In that moment I knew exactly why I had agreed to marry this man. He was so big and strong, but he loved me as fiercely as I loved him, he showed me what it was like to be loved by someone that would do anything with me. I knew with all my heart that if I ever needed to cross a magical wall into something unknown and slay a dragon he would fly me there and stay right by my side. We were so alike, he and I, we were both flames, burning bright and fierce.

And I knew exactly what tattoo to get.

I smiled at Cassian as I got up, taking the portfolio with me. I went to the artist and asked if he could draw me something cool with my idea. He smiled, asking me about the size and the placement. I quickly told him what I wanted and he went back to draw it down for me.

I was wearing a sly smile of my own when I went back to Cassian. I took his hand as I sat down.

“So,” he asked, smiling at me, too, “what did you choose?”

“Nope. I’m not telling you.” he pouted again, and I laughed at the utter ridiculousness that was a 6’5” twenty-five year old that was built like a linebacker pouting at me. I felt pity on him, giving him a peck on the cheek, “Will it hurt?” I knew the answer was yes but I wanted his take on it.

He gave me a peck on the lips, “It hurts, but nothing you wouldn’t be able to manage. You’re like this kick ass warrior chick that rolls her eyes and gives mean answers to lesser men.”

“You’re really sappy, Cass.” I say rolling my eyes at him. I loved it, though. That he thought I was this really awesome person that I couldn’t even see in myself.

“Yeah, well, I love you. And I get to love the most amazing girl on the face of the planet.”

“I love you, too.” I said with a smile.

“And I’m amazing and your every dream made reality in the best body that has ever graced the face of the planet?” he wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.

“Mmm.” The artist appeared at the entrance to the back and waved for me to go with him. I got up and turned to Cass before going. Then I got a wicked idea and leaned to whisper in his ear, “I bet once the tattoo is done I’m going to be so horny from being away from you…” Then I just left him there looking so surprised it was funny.

————

“So,” the artist said a few minutes in, “is that your boyfriend out there?”

I smiled, “Actually, I’ve agreed to marry him, so he’s my fiance.”

The artist laughed a bit, “Why’d you agree to marry him?”

“Ah, well. He’s really hot,” I laughed delicately, terrified that I might cause a mistake, “Other than that, he’s, gosh, he’s,” I sigh, “I never believed in anything that had to do with love and soulmates or any of those things. Hell, I still don’t on a logical level, but then there’s Cassian. It took me way too long to give in to my feelings for him and when I did, he was it. I loved him five seconds after I kissed him and I knew that if there was such a thing as a soulmate he was mine.” I felt a stab of pain where the artist was tattooing, “So when he asked me to marry him it was pretty much redundant, I was already planning to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Wow,” the artist said, “that’s intense.”

I smiled, “It is.” then I thought about everything I said, “Just don’t tell Cass any of this, if he knew how sappy I was I’d never hear the end of it.”

He laughed at me, “So, how is the relationship between you guys? Do you guys get along well?”

I snorted, “We get along great. We have all these little fights because both of us have the hardest heads. I love every second of it. Again, never to be disclosed to Cassian.”

“Deal.” he laughed, “Well, we’re done.” I felt him wipe the newly finished tattoo. “Do you want to see it or want me to call him over to see it with you?”

“Yeah, that way we can both see it at the same time.” I smiled. I had a tattoo now and I hoped it was as good as the picture he had drawn as a template.

Cassian walks in and his eyes linger on my exposed back, “Hey, sweetheart, gonna show me that brand new tat of yours?”

“Mhmm. I haven’t seen it done yet, but the drawing was really cool.” I got up with my shirt still held up. “It does fit what you were saying last night,” I said, smiling at the look of mischievous appreciation that he gave me.

I turned to the mirror right next to us and looked at it. My smile widened at what I saw. I bit my lip to keep from shrieking like a stupid little girl. It looked exactly like I wanted it! It was a pair of wings, dragon not angel, and they looked like they were on fire. Not only that but the wings were made in the same style as Cassian’s swirly chest piece.

“It’s perfect!” was all I could manage to say while looking at the hand size tattoo she had just gotten.

“It looks amazing, sweetheart.” Cassian said, kissing me on the cheek, “Now, pull that shirt down, he’s seen enough of you,” he tuts in mock disapproval.

The artist laughs, “Just let me patch it up for her and I won’t see any more until the next time she wants a tattoo.”

Cassian gave him a side glance, “That is acceptable.” He held my hand while the artist wrapped me up. Once the artist was done, we shook hands, I thanked the artist again and again until Cass led me out.

“So, what does it mean?” Cassian asked as we walked back home, “Wings on fire?”

I sighed, grabbing onto his arm, “It’s us.”

“Yeah?” he gave me a sweet smile. We walked a little more and he laughed, “Like, am I the wings or the fire?”

I scrunched my nose, “I don’t know. Maybe we’re both both, you know? But if I had to choose… You’re the wings, I’m the fire.”

He nodded, laughing a little, “I agree, you’re definitely my fire.”

“Yeah,” I smiled warmly at him, “You’re my wings, for sure.”

He kissed me, “So, that thing you said before?” I smiled at him, biting my lip, “Are you?”

I lifted an eyebrow at him, “I’d get me home quickly if I were you.”

He nodded, picking up the pace so that we got home in half the time we took to get to the tattoo parlor. When we got to our apartment building he looked down at me, up the stairs, back at me. Then he picked me up threw me over his shoulder and ran up the stairs.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #modern au #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #fanfic

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the1rei · 6 years

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Bloomin' Ross pt74

Rose can’t stop thinking about what happened, but this time Dahlia’s help is helping... but maybe she helping too much.

<<< First Post <<Prev Post - Next Post >>

It wasn’t hard for Dahlia to find where Rose lived even when her master, Xavier, wasn’t the most forthcoming with the directions. Rose’s neighbors were pleasant and generous with information for a friend of Rose’s, and when she saw a woman with the same red hair as Rose sweeping the front of her home listlessly, it was plainly apparent that she had found the right place.

"Hello,“ She greeted cheerily stepping up to the older woman who looked up with just a hint of surprise before smiling warmly at Dahlia, a stranger. "Is Rose home? I haven’t been able to find her at Xavier’s lately so I figured she must be here. I’m Dahlia by the way.”

"Oh, it’s nice to meet you, dear,“ Camellia smiled taking Dahlia’s hand and shaking it nodding for them to go inside. They stepped inside, and Dahlia’s eyes took in the small home, its angles, colors, and shades, she loved the uniqueness of every home. Before she knew it, Camellia was speaking again, and she reminded herself to look at the woman while she listened to her. "Rose hasn’t been feeling very well since her girlfriend broke up with her. She tries to go to work and do her chores, but she’s just not up to it. We’re afraid she’ll cut her fingers off or something like that. Now she just spends all her time in her room; it’s getting colder already, and I’d be worried about her getting sick if it weren’t for Pyrepy always being with her, poor thing’s not doing much better. It’ll be good for her to get out of the house for a little while.”

"Get her out of the house,“ Dahlia repeated the assumption of her visit curiously. Camellia’s face fell slightly at Dahlia words and the artist quickly smiled and nodded realizing the importance of the expectation to Camellia. "Sure I can do that.”

"Thank you so much, dear.“ Camellia let out a breath and smiled pointing to the ladder leading up into the roof. "Her room’s just up there.” Camellia hadn’t even gotten the words out when there was a gentle knocking at the door. “Now who could that be?”

Dahlia let her go without a word and started up the ladder sticking her head up into the pitch blackness of the windowless room. She wondered for a moment how she would find Rose, or anything at all for that matter in the dark place when the sound of something thumping onto the floor reached her ears and a moment later flames burst to life in the middle of the room in the distinct and familiar shape of a dog. Dahlia was a little startled by the sudden appearance of flames that thrust back the darkness she only winched for a second, blinked away the spots in her eyes and smiled at the puppy. “Hey, Pyrepy."

Pyrepy gave a small bark of acknowledgment and Dahlia eyes moved past him to the form curled up on the bed her back to the trap door. "Are you awake Rose?” She called struggling a little to get up through the trap door with her dress; it was obviously something more suited for someone in pants.

"Mmmhmm,“ Rose didn’t stir from her place on the bed and Dahlia couldn’t help but take a moment to run her eyes over the curves of Rose’s body made in that position and wished she had her sketchbook.

"Good, well come on then, your mom wants me to get you out of your house,” Dahlia explained plainly striding only a couple of steps across the small room before she was able to sit down on the bed, stirring Rose’s shoulders when she didn’t get immediately.

"She won’t let me go to work or help out, but she’ll get you to come up and take me out to do nothing.“ Rose assumed bitterly burying her face in her pillow.

"No, I came because you never showed up to pose for me,” Dahlia said smoothing out her skirt. “Which is very rude by the way.”

Rose turned over and shot up on her bed to stare wide at Dahlia, but before she could say anything, the artist captured her face in her hand and looked her over with a critical eye. “Mmm, you’ve been crying a lot, I guess you wouldn’t have made a very good model like this anyway, so it’s fine." Dahlia heaved a disappointed sigh and released Rose’s face. Then, remembering what so many had told her about dealing with crying people she gave Rose a gentle pat on the shoulder, "Sorry that you broke up with your girlfriend.”

Rose face turned gloomy, and her eyes fell to the bed, and she brought her knees up to hug them. “She wasn’t my girlfriend; I wish people would stop saying that.” Dahlia gave Rose a confused look; Rose was certainly acting like she had just broken up with her girlfriend with all the crying she had obviously been doing. If Cass wasn’t her girlfriend then why would she be so upset?

People’s shapes were so much easier to understand then their actions. Still Rose was unhappy, and that was objectively worse then her being happy, and Dahlia certainly didn’t mind trying to make her happy again; plus, then Rose could model for her.

“Oh well then there’s no reason to be upset, let’s go do something.” Rose’s frown deepened, and it looked like she might protest, but before she could, Dahlia gave a little pout, “Please." That often worked to get Dahlia what she wanted.

Rose smiled and gave a small chuckle, an atypical response, and nodded, "Alright." Dahlia grinned happily and jumped up from the bed to give Rose room to get up.

Rose began to pull back her sheet, then paused and looked uneasily up at Dahlia for a moment. Dahlia looked back curiously, and Rose said, "You’re not going to turn around are you?”

Dahlia gave a confused look, “Why." Rose sighed but smiled, the conflicting reactions only confusing Dahlia more. "Never mind,” Rose shook her head and tossed off the sheet off her bare legs, pawed at the ground a few times before finding her trousers and pulling them on.

Getting down onto the ladder was a little easier for Dahlia then getting up off of it, and by the time she touched down on the floor, Camellia was waving goodbye to whoever had come to the door, not that Dahlia could see who it was. Rose followed a moment later practically sliding down the ladder and pausing at the bottom to catch Pyrepy when he jumped down after them.

"Oh she got you up after all,“ Camellia gave them a smiled, though it wasn’t a very fresh one. She moved over to Rose to pat the wrinkles out of her shirt and frowned a little at her hair, "One thing at a time I guess.”

Rose frowned back at her mother “Maybe you’ll let me go back to work after today.” For reasons beyond Dahlia’s comprehension that made Camellia smile and before any further argument could be made she ushered them out the door.

"Oh, I’m hungry how about you,“ Dahlia didn’t wait for Rose to agree, taking up her arm and pulling her along down the street. "There’s a great bakery near my shop.”

"I guess I could eat,“ Rose admitted allowing Dahlia to pull her along. As if to emphasize this Rose stomach let out a low rumble and Dahlia wondered how long Rose had been laying up in her room.

—

Dahlia came every day, and Rose had to admit she was relieved to see her new friend each time. The first several days after what had happened with Cass she had been a mess. Whenever there were people around, she had wanted to get away from them. Rose wanted to avoid their assurances, sad smiles, and questions or worst false pleasantries.

When she was alone it was worse; Rose would cry and ache for Cass, curse at herself for what she had said desperately wanting to run to Cass and take it all back if only to go back to the ways things had been. She had almost convinced herself to do just that many times too, but her better sense would talk her down at the last moment. She had wanted to work, not only was it her responsibility to her family but if she could work maybe, she wouldn’t think of Cass. It wasn’t that easy, as much as she tried Cass clouded her thoughts and made her useless at work and as much as she resented her mother and Xavier for not lettering her work she couldn’t find enough fault in their reasoning to protest it strongly.

Dahlia was different, she didn’t make sad faces, she didn’t ask how Rose was feeling, she didn’t offer assurances, but she did keep Rose busy. Dahlia always had something to say or do or take Rose to see. Each night Dahlia would deposit Rose back at her home, and once she was alone again, Cass returned to her thoughts and Rose would fall back into despair. Then the next day Dahlia would return, and Rose could forget about Cass for a little while at least. It was thanks to Dahlia that Rose could eventually go back to work and do her chores and that each day she hurt a little less.

It was because of Dahlia that even when the artist was busy and couldn’t pull her out of her morning stupor that Rose had been able to manage by herself.

She had managed all day, painfully and slowly, but she had managed. Everfaithful Dahlia came anyway at night after dinner to drag Rose up to her roof to stare at the stars on the remarkably clear warm night.

"See now those look like a swan to me,” Dahlia squeezed Rose’s hand and circled her finger around a patch of stars drawing Rose’s eyes to them. Rose tried to see what Dahlia did, but it wasn’t the image of a graceful, beautiful bird that came to Rose’s mind staring at the stars. Maybe letting her mind wander and pick shapes out of stars wasn’t the best idea after spending the day thinking of Cass.

"You’re thinking about her,“ Rose turned to find Dahlia staring her. The very statement shocked Rose a little, and she almost denied it, but Dahlia spoke first. "That’s the expression you have when you’re thinking about her; I thought you’d stopped making it.”

"I-I,“ Rose wasn’t sure what she should say. She had a right to be sad still didn’t she, Dahlia had done a lot for her, but Rose’s feelings for Cass hadn’t changed at all. Should they? Shouldn’t hurt a least a little less. Consumed by her thoughts, Rose barely noticed Dahlia movements until the other girl was leaning over her, lips pursed and seeking Rose’s.

"Whoa!” Rose jumped and grabbed Dahlia shoulder to stop her. The artist looked more confused than upset at being stopped and didn’t move to pull away. “Dahlia do you like me?”

Dahlia thought about the question for more than a moment, before smiling and nodding. “You don’t point out when I do weird things, and I like making you happy. I know you’re still hurting over what happened with Cassandra, but maybe I can help with that too." Dahlia pursed her lips and smiled suggestively, her eyes bright and as sparkling like the stars, just as distant and innocent as well.

Rose found it hard not to be entranced by those eyes, the promise of love that seemed so easy to fall into; something she had wanted so badly from Cass.

Rose heart ached again; her stomach churned, and as much as Dahlia wanted to kiss her and Rose wanted her to. She wanted Dahlia to hold her and assured her everything would be fine, but it didn’t feel right. A rarely raised cynical voice deep inside Rose praised the artist, told Rose that Dahlia had been like an angel sent to expose Cass’s true feelings and show Rose what true love could be. But as much as she wanted to accept Dahlia offer, every fiber of her being seemed to rebel against the act.

Dahlia leaned against Rose’s hand pressing in to offer the kiss again, but Rose turned away eyes heavy and sad, and gently pushed Dahlia back. "I’m sorry Dahlia.” For some reason, the look of hurt that seeped into Dahlia surprised Rose. She hadn’t doubted the honesty of the artist’s emotions, but sadness at Rose’s rejection wasn’t something Rose thought she would feel. Rose expected Dahlia to be momentarily disappointed then to simply go back to looking at the stars or something new that caught her ever-curious eyes.

"Dahlia I’m-“ Rose started her voice hushed with shame, but Dahlia shook her head and pushed away from the hand separating them. She fell down on top of Rose burying her face into Rose’s chest hugging her sides.

"I’m not mad!" Dahlia cried a little too forcefully into Rose’s chest, the choked half sob betraying her and hinting at her pain. She didn’t shake or heave with sobs, but she did sniffle as in a tiny voice she asked. "Just for tonight, can I have you just for tonight, please.”

The tension drained out of Rose’s body, and she looked down at the artist, knowing for sure that she would never understand the girl. She couldn’t help but smile a little, maybe that was just the way Dahlia was, someone who just thought too differently to be understood. “Ok,” Rose agreed, wrapping her arms around Dahlia’s shoulders and hugging her strange friend close returning in kind all the love the artist had given her. Tomorrow they would be just friends, nowhere near as close as they had been for the last week. But for now, they were just two lonely heart-broken souls comforting one another in the cold night.

"This hurts worse than anything I’ve ever felt before,“ Dahlia admitted solemnly before lifting her head up and looking excitedly into Rose’s eyes and grinning. "I want to paint it. I have to paint my pain!"

Rose smiled assured Dahlia would be alright.

#tangled the series #rose #Dahlia #breakup #sad #cassandrose

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a-smilethat-explodes · 4 years

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Chapter 7 The Repulsive Red Rooster

I pulled open the door and walked into Red Rooster. I looked around at the burgundy and navy worn carpet, the crappy vinyl red booths, the rickety wooden tables and chairs, and sighed. How anyone felt the urge to eat in this dump escaped me… though it seemed we never failed to draw a large crowd, especially on Saturday nights. That's where the three birthdays from last time usually came in.

"That's how I usually survey this place too," a short blond girl with her hair pulled back in a ponytail said as she walked over to me, tray in hand.

I wiped off the look of faint disgust off my face. "Hey Taylor." I said with a weary smile.

"You're tired," she assessed quickly after giving me a quick once over. "When are you never tired?" she asked dryly. She, on the other hand, looked fairly perky and awake.

"Never." I replied with another weary smile as I hung up my jacket. "You haven't experienced the weariness of the world yet," I teased her dramatically and then added, "You aren't even out of high school yet."

"Almost," she corrected me. "It shouldn't be that bad tonight," she pulled out her dish rag then added, "It's only a Monday," as she cleaned off one of the tables. "Maria told me to tell you when you came in that after you clock in, you need to check the salt and pepper shakers. She's outside arguing with the delivery man about something," she shrugged absent mindedly.

"Okay, thanks." I put on my apron with a grimace and then walked over to the bar first.

"Hey Erik," the bartender Abby smiled at me. She bartends as one of her many jobs to pay for the private college she attends.

"Hey." I smiled back, picking up the first salt shaker. You're going to be appalled but let me just say that Abby's incredibly hot (give me a break, I'm a 19 and I'm a guy, so it's not like I turn off my hormones at the sight of a pretty girl). She's got dark brown hair that's always curling in beautiful ringlets around her face and a gorgeous smile.

The only turn off about her was that she dresses like a prostitute. Her um… assets were on full display tonight in her black corset top. She had on casual jeans underneath and I caught sight of Converse when she was cleaning some glasses at the sink but we all know that guys wouldn't be looking at the jeans and Converse. I've seen many a half drunken man get thrown out of the restaurant for making advances on Abby. Luckily for her, not only did we have security, she also had a line ready when guys hit on her.

"So how are things with Patrick?" I asked as I filled up a salt shaker (her line would be that she has a boyfriend).

"They're good," she smiled back but then her smile fell a little. "Though I'm kinda trippin…"

Nice Guy alert. Go ahead, Erik, ask for her business. Do what you do best (apparently). "Why?" I prodded.

"Well our six month anniversary is coming up and he keeps going on and on about how good the gift he bought me is," she bit her lip worriedly. "And I don't have anything for him. Well actually, I have something but… it's not that great. I don't have a lot of money, it's been really tight because of school," she looked up apprehensively at me.

"Did it come from the heart?" I asked (shut up, I know! She's a girl!).

She looked away and busied herself with wiping the counter as she mumbled back slowly, "Yeah… just something small I made him…"

"What is it?" I prodded gently (I've learned to be very gentle after many a girl has come to me with their problems).

"I painted a picture frame and framed a photo of us," she mumbled.

"I'm sure he'll love it." I reassured her kindly. It's what I do best.

"Would your girlfriend give you something like that?" she asked me hopefully.

I smirked before saying dryly, "I'm currently between girls. But trust me on this one; Abby… he'll love it. If he doesn't, and bitches about how lame it is, he's an asshole, and not worth your time."

She looked at me for a moment and then melted, gazing at me with huge eyes. "Yeah… yeah, you're right," she smiled a trembling smile at me.

"It'll be fine." I patted her hand on the counter and then turned to see a customer walk in. "Hi sir, welcome to Red Rooster." I said automatically with a polite smile.

"Just here for the bar," he said gruffly in reply. He had the stereotypical biker thing going on… black leather vest, jeans, full black leather chaps. I smiled until I passed him and then sighed.

"Nice work with Abby." Taylor said when I walked into the kitchen.

I shrugged modestly. "She needed some cheering up." I downplayed it, really embarrassed at my apparent "mad skillz" at cheering up the women.

"You should have been a therapist," she shook her head.

"Probably… I rarely ask, they usually just come to me." I replied with a sigh. "Unless they're visibly upset and then I ask them what happened."

She shook her head. "One day you're going to make some girl very happy," she said, turning on the cash register.

"Yeah." I agreed, walking back out into the restaurant. I watched as security hauled Mr. Leather Chaps man out the door. Abby watched, unconcerned. When she saw me looking at her, I raised an eyebrow. "He came on to me," she shrugged nonchalantly. Of course he did.

Later that night, I poured more water for a table and then walked over to the next. "Hi, welcome to Red Rooster, my name is Erik, I'll be serving you." I smiled broadly. Man this job sucked. "Can I get some drinks for you?" I asked, looking around the table at the family of six.

All the kids ordered Coke, even the six year old, which her mother promptly changed to water. They began arguing back and forth about the soda and I stood there, smiling politely like a fool. "Mommmm…" all the kids began to whine, undoubtedly hungry and thirsty.

"That's it! Waters for the four of them!" she told me, pointing to the kids. They all broke into groans. "Water for me too," she told me and then went back to arguing with the kids about why they needed to drink water instead of "highly carbonated, unhealthy sodas." She should talk to Jake; he had a six pack of Pepsi a day habit. His mother had been trying to get him off it since he had moved out since technically she was financing this habit.

"Water for me too," their father said wearily then began to referee between his wife and kids.

"Coming right up." I said to no one in particular and walked back over to the kitchen. "Six waters." I told Taylor as she finished with the cash drawer, and then started filling them up, setting them down on the trays. She came over and helped me. "It's not that bad tonight." I said.

"That's because we haven't done your favorite thing," she teased in reply.

"Don't-" I began as she drew breath.

"Happy, happy, birthday, from all of us to you!" she sang.

"STOP!" I complained. "I can't put into words how much I hate that song." I glared down at her with loathing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a birthday in the house!" I heard another server shout.

"Hahaha!" Taylor cackled. "Speaking of!"

"No!" I whimpered.

"Luke here is 10! Big double digits!" the server, Sarah, was stalling until we all got over to the table to sing. Damn her. I followed Taylor over to the table, smile pasted on. "So from all of us at Red Rooster, we'd like to siiiiiiiing…" she looked around and then started clapping as she sang, "Happy, happy birthday, from all of us to you!"

I clapped along diligently. "Happy, happy birthday, may all your dreams come true!" and then came the worst part of the song: "HEY!" we all threw a fist into the air. Everyone clapped politely.

"I hate that damn song!" I said through my smile as Taylor and I headed back to the kitchen.

"I know!" Taylor laughed in reply as I picked up the tray of waters. I glared at her before walking over to my table with a smile.

I finally got a dinner break around 8:00 that night and went outside with a sigh to get some air. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my black hooded sweatshirt and looked up at the sky. After savoring a few minutes alone, I began to walk across the parking lot as I pulled out my cell phone. One missed call… Cassie. I listened to her brief voicemail and then called her back. "What's up?" I asked after she had picked up.

"Nothing," she replied, sounding bored. "What are you doing?"

"Walking over to Target to get some food." I replied.

"I'll come over and see you," she announced.

"Bored much?" I teased.

"Very much so," she replied flatly. "Cool if I come?"

"Sure." I shrugged. Fine with me to have company during dinner.

"I'll see you in five minutes," she replied then hung up.

I sat inside Target, patiently waiting for my pizza to be ready. "Hey." Cassie sat down across from me with a smile.

"Hey Cass." I replied as she pulled out a magazine… CosmoGirl! "Now THAT is informative reading." I commented dryly.

"I need to brush up on my horoscope and Freaky Deaky stories," she sniffed in reply, flipping to the first page. I laughed. "How was work tonight?" she asked with a smile, putting her magazine down.

"All right." I grunted back. "I had to sing the song." I added flatly.

Her face changed to a look of sympathy. "Awww…" she cooed.

"It sucked." I grumbled in reply.

"I know how much you love that song," she smirked.

"Shut up." I shot back as my order number was called. "Hang on." I got up, walked over, and picked up my food. I sat down across from her and opened my box. I dug in hungrily.

"Hungry?" she asked dryly.

"Mmm." I grunted yes back, mouth full of pizza. My eyes watered at how hot it was.

"Hot?" she began to laugh.

"Very much so." I agreed. She laughed. "What are you doing tonight?" I asked.

"Homework," she scowled in reply.

"Want to come over? Watch a movie or something?" I asked.

Her expression changed to play-angry, complete with a pout like a four year old. "You know what, Erik, you always use me!" she accused me. "You just want me there so I can kick the guys off XBox!"

I thoughtfully waited the appropriate second for her statement to sink in and then shrugged as I answered, "True."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll come over."

"Not like you have anything better to do." I stated as I grabbed my drink then gave her a winning smile as I said charmingly, "I knew you would."

She rolled her eyes, rolled up her magazine, and smacked me in the head.

I just laughed.

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