#probably could’ve worded this shorter but i am sleepy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mc-lukanette · 4 years

Text

"Marinette!" Sabine called from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready!"

Marinette stirred, groaning as she shifted underneath the covers. It was one of the very few days where she didn't have anything in particular to do, so the last thing she wanted was to be woken up so early like her mother had just done to her.

Still, she knew it'd be rude to just lie there without responding, so she threw the blanket off of herself and shouted, "On my way!"

She yawned, far too tired to be in the waking world but forcing herself up anyway. She didn't even bother looking in the mirror, accepting whatever nightmare sleeping with her hair down had caused. It was a lazy day and she was determined to keep it that way, especially with how nice and warm she felt.

It was probably the warmest she'd ever felt, really.

She opened her trapdoor, letting out some variation of "good morning" as she descended the stairs, thankful that the smell of breakfast was enough to keep her moving.

Tom, having just set her plate down on the table, turned to greet her with a smile. "Good morni—"

Marinette stopped short of sitting down when she'd noticed that he'd cut himself off, a silly smile breaking out onto his face. She could even hear Sabine giggling behind her.

"Papa? What is it?"

He propped an elbow onto the table and leaned on it, looking at her with interest. "Thinking about anyone today, Marinette?"

"Huh?" She blinked, completely thrown off by the question and way too sleepy for it regardless. "Uh, not really?" She slid herself into her seat, picking up her fork before immediately dropping it as she noted, "Oh, I guess I am thinking about Luka. I hope he likes the jacket I gave him last night."

Her parents exchanged a glance, making Marinette immediately suspicious. She squinted, retrieving her fork again. "What?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Sabine inquired. Marinette turned to her, confused, and she clarified, "He's actually been waiting outside the side door for a while now."

"Oh." Marinette paused, then straightened on alert, slamming her fork down on the table as mental clarity hit. "Huh?! Why?!"

"He didn't want to come in until you were awake," Tom explained, still grinning away.

She hurried away from the table, groaning and quickly running her fingers through her hair to neaten it. "You should've said so! I would've been up right away!"

She huffed as she rushed out of the room, mentally preparing a scolding for her parents later. It explained the smiles at least; they'd been messing with her.

She nearly tripped on the way down the stairs due to her fast pace, though still stumbled on the last step and nearly plowed into the door because of it. She scrambled to open it, practically throwing it against the wall as she exclaimed, "Luka! Hi!" to the person standing on the other side.

Luka kept on a calm smile, though it had more energy than usual. "Hey, Marinette." He looked down at his jacket, gripping the fabric for emphasis. "I know I could've texted you, but I wanted to tell you in person that it's amazing. I was wearing it all evening and it's one of the comfiest things I've ever worn. I don't know how you did it, but—"

He went to look back up at her, but suddenly choked on his own words, mouth still hanging open as he seemed to really take her in. Marinette, meanwhile, simply blinked, not understanding the pause. She supposed that she looked a little ragged from just getting out of bed, but—

oh, right, she was still in her pajamas.

Immediately, her hands flew to cover any bare skin that Luka wouldn't have been used to seeing, only to be thwarted as her fingers touched fabric, not skin. Confusion settled in for a few seconds before memories of last night returned to her sleep-deprived mind. Hesitantly, her gaze drifted downwards, her face going pale as cold realization washed over her.

She was wearing Luka's hoodie-jacket combo; that's what everyone had been reacting to.

She peered up at Luka, seeing that his eyes were still locked on his clothes she was wearing. Panic spiking, she immediately began taking it off.

"O-oh, wow!" she said loudly. "How did this get here? I'm sorry, there must've been a mistake! I'm so out of it in the morning, and it was really cold out, and my parents woke me up so I was tired, and I guess I just picked your jacket up by accident! Don't you just hate it when that happens? Anyway, here you go!"

She shoved the mass of fabric into his arms, turning on her heel and fleeing in the other direction. She couldn't even take the first few steps before she heard the clothes hit the floor and felt Luka's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her to him and keeping her there. She squeaked, blushing all the way to her ears, but didn't force him away.

"Is that the truth?" he asked quietly, voice heavy with an emotion she didn't dare call hope.

She shifted, trying to swallow her nerves while remaining wrapped in his hold. His tone alone indicated that he knew her story was a lie, and she had already felt bad for lying in the first place. He was just too perceptive, and it was one of the many things she loved about him.

"...N-no," she admitted. "It's not."

He hugged her tighter, burying his face in the spot between her neck and shoulder. She could feel him exhale against her skin and shuddered at the sensation.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, "It was just—you left your jacket and you wear it all the time so I always remember how it felt whenever we hugged or anything, t-then I missed you after you left and I wanted to know how it felt to wear something of yours and it ended up being really w-warm so—" Her voice briefly cracked. "—I slept in it and I know it's weird and I'm sorry again—"

"No," Luka gently interjected.

"H-huh?"

"It's not weird at all, at least not to me," he whispered, his face apparently making a home in her hair. "You don't think I'd wear your jacket all the time if I was shorter than you?"

"Wh—" She blinked, jarred put of her panicked state by that reaction. "Really...?"

"Mhm," he hummed in reply. He paused, thoughtful, then raised his head up to add, "I wish I was, actually, now that I think about it."

"L-luka!" she gasped.

He chuckled happily, apparently unphased by her reaction. It finally registered with her that he was truly, honestly charmed by her wearing his jacket. She'd gotten so used to people judging her that—

...Well, Luka was always the exception.

"T-then—!" She turned her upper body around in his arms, their faces mere centimeters away. "I'll make a jacket that's really big on me, a-and I'll wear it all the time, and then you can wear that!"

His surprised expression melted into a warm smile, and it only then occurred to her how close their faces were. She wasn't sure her face had ever been that close to his, actually. His eyes were the same pretty blue that they always were and his pink lips were twice as tempting when he smiled like that.

"Please do, Marinette," he replied.

Deep down, she knew he was referring to the jacket idea, but her body wasn't listening. Her lips met his, and she didn't have time to doubt the impulse because he immediately kissed her back. His loosened his hug on her so she could comfortably face him, then tightened it right back up to pull her close. She slipped her hands underneath his Marinette-brand jacket, sliding her hands along his back to embrace him in return. Luka hummed contentedly, one hand moving up the back of her shirt to stroke along her spine. Though he was careful not to touch her bare skin, she shivered anyway.

They pulled apart with a soft clicking noise after what was probably far too long when her parents were in the same building as them. Marinette reluctantly pulled her hands away, occupying herself by toying with the fabric of the jacket he was wearing.

"S-s—" She swallowed, knowing it shouldn't have been a hard question considering they'd just made out. "Stay for breakfast?"

He grinned like the absolute dork that he was, his hands moving to hold hers. "Not long enough. Can I stay for lunch too?"

She unintentionally mirrored his grin, nodding eagerly. "Please do, Luka."

He closed the door behind him while she picked up and put his hoodie+jacket combo back on, the two eagerly holding hands as they ascended the staircase.

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

216 notes · View notes

seonfhwa · 5 years

Text

Of Magic and Mayhem (ch. 1)

word count: 1672 words warnings: n/a genre: fantasy au, harry potter au description: seonghwa settles in after the sorting ceremony, and finally meets someone that peaks his interest. *note: this is a work of fiction. the members’ ages have been changed, and this in no way reflects ateez themselves. it’s just a story. there will be no original characters (oc) or self insert (y/n). let me know in any way that you want to be tagged in updates!

seonghwa sighed as he walked up the stairs to the ravenclaw tower, fingers tugging at the sleeves of his robe. he couldn’t wait to get out of the heavy thing. he never liked wearing it, anyway, and only did when it was necessary. unfortunately for him, it was always necessary on the first day of the school year. thankfully, he was alone, and as he walked up the spiral staircase of the west tower, he slid the blue and bronze robe off of his shoulders and hung it over his arm.

“what’s the riddle today?” he spoke up, bending at the waist with his head tilted as he looked to the little eagle on the doorknob. it shifted, coming to life right before his eyes. “c’mon, i want to get in. i have to unpack.”

the eagle seemed to shake a little, as if it were ruffling its feathers. which it couldn’t, of course, for it was made of metal. beady eyes came to focus on seonghwa, and he straightened and took a half a step back.

“i’m a word that’s hardly there. take away my start, and i’m an herbal flair. what am i?” the eagle spoke plainly and settled against the door once more, its eyes falling shut, waiting for the answer.

seonghwa knew that, as a ravenclaw, he should know these things. but the riddles never came easy to him, even if it had been two years. if anything, he thought that the doorknob was starting to get cocky with him. sometimes, seonghwa could have sworn that he was given harder riddles than the others that tried to get in. it simply wasn’t fair. standing at the top of the staircase, he stayed silent, deep in thought and going through all of the herbs he could think of.

“i’m a word that’s hardly there. take away my start, and i’m an herbal flair. what am i?” the eagle’s voice sounded once more, and seonghwa could have sworn it sounded impatient.

“listen, i’m getting there, just give me--”

“parsley.” the answer came in a soft response, from a voice seonghwa didn’t recognize. his attention turned toward the other person there, wondering just why he hadn’t noticed the other boy showing up. he was a little shorter than seonghwa himself, clearly more soft spoken, and there was a gentle aura that came with his presence. the other boy cast a glance over his shoulder before stepping into the door, holding it out expectantly. “are you coming?”

why was he so struck?

“yeah! yeah, sorry.” seonghwa’s hand curled into a small fist, and his nails dug into his palm while he stepped into the common room with his robe on his arm nearly sweeping the floor. he mumbled as he shut the door behind him. “i was just trying to figure out the riddle.”

there was silence as he followed the shorter male into the common room, and he couldn’t quite place why he was so distracted. seonghwa watched the other take off his robe, seemingly just as frustrated over the heavy fabric as he was, and sit on the couch. they were suddenly meeting gazes once more.

“what year are you?” the soft voice spoke again, and seonghwa almost thought of it as melodic. he was fascinated, and normally he was never this interested in another student. no one ever stuck out to him, probably because he was so picky over who he wanted as a friend, but this year already seemed different.

it took him a moment to realize that he was asked a question, and only when the other student sighed and raised a brow expectantly did he clear his throat. “second. are you a first year? i don’t think i’ve ever seen you before.”

the other student stood, coming face to face with seonghwa. he didn’t back down, not even when he was offered a hand. only when he took it and give a shake did the younger break into a smile, one that coaxed a small one to seonghwa’s lips. “i’m yeosang. first year, gladly sorted into ravenclaw. i guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then.”

“yeosang...” seonghwa tested the name on his tongue, nodding slightly with the name committed to memory and a face attached to it, letting his hand fall. he adjusted his robe on his arm. “it’s nice to meet you then, yeosang. if you ever need anything, i’m just right over there.”

seonghwa gave a vague gesture toward one side of the common room where the door to his shared room was. a gust of wind caused the windows to whistle, and when yeosang seemed startled, seonghwa laughed.

“they do that. we’re so high up, the wind blows and we hear and feel it all. you’ll get used to it-- maybe you’ll even come to like it.”

yeosang mumbled something along the lines of “probably not” while he grabbed his robe. when he turned back to seonghwa, it was with a smile. “i’m going to go unpack. i’ll see you around then, seonghwa. thank you for the welcome.”

waving a hand dismissively, seonghwa smiled, turning to head toward his room to do the same. he heard a door open, but it didn’t close just yet. when he looked over his shoulder, his hand on the doorknob to his room, yeosang cleared his throat and smiled.

“if you ever need help with the riddles, to get in, you know... then just come find me.”

seonghwa felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. yeosang disappeared into his room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him, but right before he was out of view, seonghwa could’ve sworn there was a smirk on yeosang’s lips. he stood there for a long moment, probably too long. the sound of other students outside of the door broke his trance and he quickly went into his own room.

unpacking his bags was easy enough. there wasn’t too much to handle, just his books that were required for the year and a couple of changes for his robes. he glanced over to the one on his bed, scrunching his nose in distaste. his parents were insistent on having a couple to change into in case they got dirty, even though he was insistent that he never did anything to dirty his robes. if anything, the more important thing he needed was a lint roller, not another robe.

seonghwa smiled as he pulled out just that, the lint roller sitting on his bed. thankfully, he didn’t need that just yet, as his cat hadn’t been around to bother him. content with his own purchase, he unpacked the rest of his bags, tucking clothes and books away while pulling out the over-the-shoulder bag he would be using for classes. however, just as he was thinking how lucky he was that there wasn’t fur all over everything, he heard the telltale sound of scratching at the door.

with a sigh, he opened the door, and a quick flash of white let him know that the cat was inside. shutting the door, with a quick glance out into the common room for a reason he didn’t know -- or didn’t want to address -- he turned his attention to the little fluff ball.

she purred from her perch, directly on the robes he was wearing earlier, her eyes closed and the very tip of her tail twitching slightly on the bed. she was a beautiful white cat, her paws and the tips of her ears, tail, and nose a soft gray. she had bright green eyes, ones that gleamed in the darkness and seemed to hold more wisdom than seonghwa could have ever imagined.

sighing, he reached out, fingers delving into the soft fur. her back rose lightly, and she almost seemed to smile while flopping onto her side, exposing her belly to her owner. “dew, you’re spoiled.”

dew chirped in response, her little paws reaching out to grab his hand, her claws of love sinking into his skin while she pulled his hand close to lick at his fingertips. he winced, and after a moment he tugged his hand free, shooing his cat. “i have to finish unpacking... and now i have to lint roll my robes. thanks a lot.”

she mewed in response, and with a wave of his hands, seonghwa managed to get her off his robes and onto the blankets instead. grumbling about why his parents had to get him a cat with white fur for school, seonghwa began to lint roll the fabric, having to go through two sheets before it was all done. he hung up his robe, shoved the empty suitcase under his bed, grabbed one of his school books, and went to the door.

“c’mon, dew. let’s do some reading.”

the cat hopped off the bed and pranced after seonghwa as he went into the common room, plopping into one of the armchairs and opening his book. he lifted it just in time for dew to hop up on his lap, and once she settled, he got comfortable and began reading.

for some reason, seonghwa kept glancing over toward the door he had seen yeosang go into, as if waiting for him to come back out. however, as the night wore on, the lights turned on once it got too dark to see the words otherwise, and yeosang never came back out of his room. seonghwa may have been disappointed, but he was never going to admit that.

when it came to be too late, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open, seonghwa lifted a sleepy dew into his arms. she struggled for a moment, but when he let her into his room and she hopped up on the bed, she didn’t seem to have any trouble settling down in his sheets.

as seonghwa changed into his pajamas and slipped under the covers, he wondered what hongjoong would have to say about the new student that managed to actually catch his attention.

@smol-joong @heoneyology @funsize-lucifer-hongjoong @blondseonghwa @hanbinwithlove @utopiagf @leejenocult @kihyunscuteaf

#ateez #ateez fanfic #atzwriters #*of magic and mayhem #*omam: 1 #so how was this one guys? o v o #the years are confusing so far but #seonghwa's a 2nd year... hongjoong's a 3rd year... yeosang's a first #i'll let you know about the others when they come up too!#shout out to cami 😔✊

111 notes · View notes

incognito-lionbeast · 4 years

Text

The Right Kind of Idiot, Ch. 2-1

[Read More!]

First light had already broken a while ago, but Lio let his lieutenants rest, sharing the morning’s companionable silence with Aina alone. Productive as ever, she still wore Gueira’s jacket as if it was the most normal thing in the world—a little too large in the shoulders, but not a bad fit. Neither were the long sleeves she’d gifted Lio before, bunched up to his elbows so he could better help the effort to tidy the mess they’d made. Tsk.

Returning from one of many voyages back to her bike—parked just where they’d left it, thank god—Aina paused, leaning against the back of a chair in the dappling sunlight. She smiled, hair a mess and disheveled beyond what combing it with her fingers could do. Still, she surveyed the scene before them fondly, catching Lio’s eyes as they passed—begging some question or another, although neither of them spoke. It was a beautiful morning, but they had work to do. First, though, she dug a phone from her pocket and took a picture. A memory.

“Are you planning to blackmail us later?” Lio asked to tune of another shutter click—this time centered squarely on his face. Well, if it was blackmail—and he didn't really think it was—then it wasn’t very good. Although the sun was shining, the room was still mostly dim, and it was hard to tell exactly where they were with how drastically they'd reinvented the office's floor plan the night before. Too bad for her.

“Hm, what? No.” Aina put her phone away, cheerful despite all of the subtle aches and pains. A nice cup of coffee might do some good once they got back. Whenever that was. For Lio, it was probably sooner rather than later. For Aina, she was less sure. There was still plenty to do here, and she wasn't the one people were waiting on. “The first one is for me, and the second—”

He had a feeling that he already knew where this was going. “—is for Galo. We’re running behind, so I was giving him an update. You’re still here.”

Lio was right, but of course he was. That man never gave up. It was admirable, really. Although, Lio disapproved of being photographed solely for that purpose—or in general. Still, she meant well; he knew that. So, for now, that was enough to settle his uneasiness. Yet, in the future—and he was sure there was a long one ahead of them—Lio made a note to discuss this with his captors. Friends. They were friends. Galo was his friend. Lio’s expression softened at the thought, ruffling the sleepy head of one of their charges as they awoke.

“I am,” Lio agreed. “Will Galo be joining us?”

Aina shook her head, “No, we’ll meet him down at the station—or you will. I might stay here with the boys to make sure the other Rescue Team gets here okay. Can I trust you with my bike?”

Another rhetorical question, he knew, because combined with her playful posturing—Lio caught the keys as they sailed overhead. Their alliance was new, but less fragile than they gave it credit for. Even so, turning the keys over in his hands, Lio kept a special reservation within himself for how well this would all work out in the end. Though, he’d keep hoping, believing in himself and the Galo that believed in all of them. Was that too corny?

“Can I trust you to handle them?” Lio finally answered, brow raised and gesturing to his lieutenants. They were a handful and loyal to a fault; although, he was pleased to see how well they’d been getting along, even if it was mostly just this one person so far. Aina. For what it was worth, he respected her for that. Then again, if she handled Galo on a daily basis, what were a few extra punks? Surely, they couldn't be any worse. Perhaps different in their mischief, but not worse.

“They'll have to listen to me.” Aina tugged on the lapels of Gueira’s her jacket, proudly displaying it for all those slowly waking to see. This was silly, and her serious expression was quickly foiled by her own bobbing shoulders. She laughed, undeterred by the rustling of their teammates. Even Gueira, himself. Good morning, sunshine. Don’t mind her and her empty threats, because that’s all they were. “If he wants this back. I’m comfortable.”

Black leather wasn’t really her thing nor did it match any of her aesthetics, but she was cozy and warm. So, that had to count for something. Besides, it was the highest honour she could've ever hoped to receive from the two of them, and that—above all else—made her the happiest. It was progress. It was trust, quite frankly, that she wasn't that bad. So, Aina wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible, shoving her hands into its pockets.

Lio allowed it, waving her off to regroup and inform his lieutenants of the situation. He’d leave soon, and what remained between Aina and Gueira was her battle to fight. Albeit, Lio anticipated an early surrender—or else they'd never hear the end of it. Still, everything was set. Everything except for the few still struggling with sleep in their eyes, but anything that needed repacking was packed and ready to rock 'n roll. Lio, most of all, was prepared. As prepared as anyone could be with a world of questions and a long, toilsome day ahead of them. Galo had some of the answers; he'd certainly enough to talk about before.

So, Lio left Aina to handle the aftermath--to the banter and the struggle of dealing with more than just the lost children. Such a strange feeling. Since his induction as leader, they weren’t apart often nor for very long. Yet, there he was... commandeering a Burning Rescue vehicle through the same side streets and rubble he knew from the night before. Away. The journey back was shorter than he’d remembered and busier. Encroaching on the FDPP building, Lio avoided the swarm of activity as best as he could. Although, they didn’t pay him much mind. Far too busy to question someone arriving with a standard-issue bike and matching shirt (thanks, Aina).

To his continuing surprise, Galo wasn’t the first person demanding his attention--front and center!--after he parked. Wasn’t she... cold? She wore less than Aina. Somehow. Bouncing on her heels, Lucia flagged him down across the garage with all the intensity of a person twice her size. And she showed no signs of slowing down yet, either, yelling his name as if he’d somehow forgotten it in the few hours he’d been awake. Well, someone has to keep him on his toes, right?

Her enthusiasm simmered a fraction as Lio approached, “C’mon, slowpoke, we don’t got all morning! And before ya ask--”

Lio asked anyway, “Is Galo inside?”

“I was getting to that, geez.” Lucia rolled her eyes. Both of them! ‘Has Aina checked in?’ ‘Is Lio here yet?’ ‘Where’s Galo?’ And Lio didn’t even thank her for saving him the trouble of being bowled over first thing by their enthusiastic--but not literal--golden retriever. The things she did for her friends. Although, all of this only served to give her better ammunition for later, so she couldn’t be too mad about it. She started walking.

“He’s here, don’t worry,” Lucia said, waving. “He got slammed with paperwork that ‘absolutely couldn’t wait’ -- orders from up top. So, he’s been grounded all morning.”

And Galo hated it.

"You should probably proofread it.” A shrug, casting a sideways glance at Lio. Legal things, ugh. It’s all hugs and happy endings 'til the world reminds you that you live in a society with rules and junk. Lucia was just glad it wasn’t her stuck in the office. Yet. She suspected it’d be her turn eventually. Still, until then, she was much happier shoving Lio into a room with Galo and calling it a day. What could go wrong? “Unless you wanna let Galo tell the whole story, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Rounding on another set of doors, Lucia all but pushed Lio through them before he could get another word in. “So, good luck, have fun. See you in two years.”

#Promare #Lio Fotia #Aina Ardebit #I had an idea in the middle of writing this #and I'm glad #cause I didn't have a direction for WHERE Galo & Lio were gonna end up talking otherwise asdfgh #planning is hard

3 notes · View notes

asktroisiemephantom · 7 years

Text

Until Sunrise - April 29th, 2017

In her dreams, sometimes it was herself saying it. Other times, it was Premier or Deuxième or her own mother. And if it were a particularly bad night? The words came from Madam.

She did not deserve to be paired up with you.

On this night, it was her own voice spitting it, and she woke up with a jolt. The words didn’t hurt when she heard it in her own voice; she was already used to fighting with herself. Nothing quite sinks in when she tells herself anything.

Troisième found that her legs had become twisted in her sheets. A product of restless moving during her nightmare. Being bundled close plus extra friction from the moving caused her skin to burn. It was like she was being cooked in her own bed.

The phantom untangled herself from her sheets and pulled her sweaty hair from her face. She hated having long-ish hair, but she had shorter hair when she was younger and still with her family. She wasn’t that person anymore. It was easier to look in the mirror and never have to remember ever being that person. Being physically uncomfortable was worth the protection mentally.

Casting her eyes towards the roomy bird cage in the corner of her chambers, she remembered that Hades was chilling with the other ravens in the aviary. Her raven couldn’t be kept from his social circle for too long or he’d go bonkers and start driving her batty as well.

The realization that she was alone let her mind wander. She was wide awake and probably not going to be able to fall asleep any time soon. Her bedside clock read 4:12 AM.

Focusing on her breathing, she slowly leaned back until her head touched the headboard of her bed. She exhaled with her eyes closed and saw her dream melt away. As therapeutic as it was, she still wasn’t going to fall asleep.

She peeked her eyes open, and the vague shadowy shapes surrounding her sharpened and began to actually look like her bedroom. No longer being under the sheets didn’t make her feel any less hot, and sweat still clung to her skin.

Hades was away, she was alone and wide awake. She leaned her back into her pillow and shimmied her shoulders in some vague attempt to wipe off the annoying sweat - it only succeeded in making her heart race. Though her mind was awake, it was like her body was still trying to resist moving.

Now her clock read 4:15. She sighed. Frustration, boredom, loneliness, sleeplessness - Hell, some deadly combination of all four had attacked her all at once. But she sat there with a deep scowl on her face, crossing her arms across her chest like a pouting child. If only she could just sleep and not have to deal with this.

Trois had an idea and the thought made her raise an eyebrow though her eyes remained closed. She uncrossed her arms, and shifted her legs, incidentally causing her to slide down further onto her bed.

One of her hands cautiously crept across her stomach and pulled the hem of her pyjama shirt up just a fraction of an inch. Her fingertips traced her skin at the same pace that her bedside clock made its faint ticking noise. Upon reaching the edge of her underwear she guided her fingers beneath the cloth and into the patch of hair there, but she lost her nerve.

Who was she kidding? She wasn't in the mood.

Troisieme flipped over and shoved her face into her pillow, letting out a long groan of frustration. She couldn’t stay stagnant any longer.

Lifting herself off of her sheets she crawled to the edge of her bed and sat with her hair tangled in front of her face. Her tile floor was cold against the bottoms of her bare feet, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. She wasn’t too keen on the idea of uncovering her face and exposing it to the cool air conditioning, but she couldn’t see worth a shit.

Looking at the clock wasn’t an option anymore. Seeing how early it was would only be a disgusting reminder of how bored she was. It was that dead hour in the morning where the phantoms that go to bed at a reasonable time were still in their last hours of sleep, and those who stay up partying or working were finally knocked out. Only the insomniacs like her would be wandering half asleep through the halls of La Dame Rouge like ghosts in a fog.

Trois jolted up and pushed her hair out of her face. She sifted through her closet, looking for anything comfortable, luckily finding loose pants and a cloak to keep her arms warm.

The bedroom door closed behind her before she realized she was moving. It was no surprise that the phantoms’ quarters were deadly quiet; each of her footsteps sounded much too loud against the silence, despite her still remaining barefoot.

She ended up in the elevator without a real destination. The lighted buttons on the panel weren’t giving her any inspiration, but she jammed her finger on the one indicating the aviary. Familiar place, familiar friends, and what better thing to do than to keep yourself busy with work?

She slumped against the elevator wall with her eyes closed as she ascended. The movement forcing her downwards reminded her of how tired she was, but the ding of the elevator reaching the top of the tower made her eyes snap open.

Even the aviary was oddly quiet, she noticed as she trudged to the cage.

Err, well it was quiet, until the phantom stepped inside and a familiar squawk broke out, with excitement.

Hades swooped down, cawing as he went, to land onto Troisième’s shoulder. She saw some of the other ravens shoot them an annoyed look as Hades interrupted their nice quiet time. Sending them an apologetic look, she went to sit down.

Her raven wouldn’t shut up and she took him off of her shoulder to question him or at least shush him. He squirmed in her hands, but at least he cut out the croaking. “What is it, love?”

He tapped his beak against the inside of Trois’ wrist, but she really wasn’t getting it. Whatever he was trying to convey, it was either too complicated to express without words, or Trois was much too out of it to figure it out. He hopped out of her hands in favor of tapping his talons on the ground by her thigh and rubbing his head where a pants pocket might be if she were wearing jeans.

“I am wearing pajama pants, you loon. Cannot carry anything if I do not have pockets. Including my phone. Do you not know what time of day it is?”

Hades shot her a glare and huffed. His look said it all. If you’re ready for your day enough to be here of all places while it’s still dark out, then why aren’t you prepared?

“Do not mock me, Hades. I have already had a rough day, and the time only further accentuates my point.” Troisième rubbed at her temples.

Her raven flew up amongst his feathered companions, and Trois felt a stinging sadness that she’d pushed away one of her few friends with her crassness. She went to apologize before being stopped by him swooping back down again, this time with Sixième’s raven, Otto, by his side.

Otto sounded a bit sleepy and withdrawn (no doubt because of suddenly getting roped into doing something) when he muttered, “Buon Compleanno.”

Trois could’ve facepalmed right then and there, if she didn’t think it would hurt Hades’ feelings.

She looked at Otto with gratitude but shook her head. Turning towards Hades, she said, “Out of all the others here to ‘translate’ for you, you chose the one who has an affinity for speaking Italian? I have no idea what he said.”

Hades looked back at her, then back at Otto and realized his mistake. Sixi’s raven flew away, realizing that he may not be needed. (Though it wasn’t like the cheeky bastard didn’t know how to speak English, so he still could’ve translated.) With a look of disappointment, he looked back at Trois and opened his beak, but nothing came out. Seeing the excitement he’d held earlier when she’d first arrived dissipate was hurtful.

She held out her hand, hoping he’d still be in the mood to sleep all ploof-ed out like normal, when some of the other ravens started croaking. First it was quiet and unintelligible, but then it got louder and a bit more clear. Though many of them spoke at different times the message was the same: Happy Birthday.

It dawned on her like a freight train. And she was the one standing on the tracks.

April 29th.

The Third Phantom was 31 years old now.

The irony that she woke up from a nightmare on the day almost made her laugh, but instead she was more in shock than anything. Thirty-one years old and she still felt like the same twenty year old who ran away from everything she’d known. Despite everything changing, she still felt the same as always.

By the time she’d snapped out of her thoughts, the other ravens had gone silent. Hades looked up at her cautiously.

She smiled, although the day was never much one she celebrated. “Thank you, buddy.” She looked up at the various tree branches that stretched above the aviary and said a quick thanks to the other ravens who spoke up as well.

Hades floofed out his feathers, happy to have finally gotten his message across. Trois liked the sight of him cheering up, so she took off her cloak and balled it up, creating a raven-sized makeshift bed. She found a clean enough section of ground and laid down on her side, pulling the cloak close to her. Her raven quickly hopped into the bed and scrunched down, content.

Although her birthday meant both so little and so much to her at the same time, it was nice to just lie there close to Hades and listen to the occasional clicks of the other birds. She set her head on her arm and looked down at Hades, who already seemed to be in comfortable bliss. Maybe it wasn’t so hard to sleep after all.

Of course, she may have to explain herself in case someone walks in before she wakes, but that was an uncomfortable conversation she’d be willing to endure if that meant getting some shut-eye. Even if it’s only until sunrise.

#La Dame Rouge #Troisième Phantom #writing #one-shot #[just pretend that i posted this a week and a half ago haha]

4 notes · View notes

560am-blog · 7 years

Text

beautiful.

baekai / hyunshik + taeyang

He was at it again. Taeyang could curse if it were in his nature but it was never that serious and certainly never that aggravating. It was aggravating, he could feel irritation prickling in his bones every now and then but it always settled and soothed into acceptance. He doesn’t know what to call this predicament but seeing as he always falls into the routine it’s less than a problem now and more of an unfortunate circumstance. The difference is one he could’ve fixed and one he chooses to live with.

Taeyang balances the load in his arms, looks at them as if they were a hundred puppies from the shelter and suddenly everything is a lot easier. Of course, it’s very hard to make out four paper bags and three cup holders into puppies but he thanks his imagination for the attempt. If he smiles amid the discomfort it won’t feel as uncomfortable. People ask him all the time how it’s so easy for him to settle with misfortune and he thinks it’s because he’s tackled it so well and let it slide off so easily. It’s nothing as tragic as him being made of it, nothing as intimate as him molding with it Taeyang simply goes with it. Not the cup holders, good lord if they slid out his hands he was done for. Not to mention it’s cold and with cold there’s always a coffee rush and the shop is obviously too busy to deal with him dropping a load of coffee (coffee that took rather long to make) all over the floor.

In Taeyang’s opinion he’s gotten pretty good at it. He’ll fold and fit as much of the pastries in one bag as he can and shove it under his armpit. For the shorter drinks and the lighter ones he’ll place those on top of the heaviest set, that way the load isn’t much and it won’t spill. Then he slips the other set of holders into his other hand and the smallest set between his arms. It’s a small system that took two weeks to perfect and he swelled with pride the first time it proved efficient.

The hospital isn’t too far and it’s not the kind of busy where he can’t speed walk to get there. The café was convenient in that it was down the road, inconvenient in that he had to cross the road to get there but it was okay he was okay with it. He’d only had someone almost hit him once and he only spilled the drinks once, it was a record achievement.

He shuffles the contents in his arms, sometimes more sometimes less and he’s on his way. It’s not that bad. He smiles at the barista who give him funny looks, at the girls who giggle and stumble out his name to the workers all rosy cheeked and espresso stained. He smiles at people who open the door and even those who accidentally slam it against his nose, smiles through it all and continues.

Taeyang forgets all about the barista with the question on his tongue because he’s got about twenty more to answer when he gets back to the hospital.

[note: POV change]

This kid is at it again. Sometimes Hyunshik is fixing a cup when he hears the long list slip from the boy’s mouth and the telltale groan of a long order from a co-worker. Taeyang. Hyunshik remembers clearly. He hasn’t had to fix that many cups at once since the first day they brought back the pumpkin spice latte to the menu. Or the day the guy training him called off sick and it was the morning rush. The usual rush for kids who were getting up for eight am classes that they were late for. The dreaded rush. In between the order and the girl’s tumbling replies Bakehyun remembers the first time he heard the order.

He was working the coffee that day and it was rather early. Not to mention once the order hit over five drinks he spotted his co-worker slip from behind the counter stating he was going to go clean some tables. The traitor.

Never had Hyunshik fixed a set of drinks with such a scowl on his face. He’d honestly meant to wipe it off his face for customer courtesy when he called up the name. “Taeyang!” It was a little tight, maybe a little out of breath because he’d been thrown into the task so haphazardly. Hyunshik also expected to see a group of people show up for the order as do most people when a set is made. They order with one name and look for their order on the side. It’s a bit inefficient in his opinion but he’s not the one searching so he doesn’t care.

He expected a crowd but he saw one boy. One boy with pink hair, apology written in a pink flush all over his face as he scrambled to grab the set of drinks, counting as he does so. Hyunshik would have considered this an insult to his workmanship but the way the boy’s fingers flitted nervously across the cups and the numbers across his lips he realized it’s not a count against him.

“Thank you so much!” some people say it some people don’t and usually it doesn’t matter because by this time Hyunshik is already making the next set of drinks. Maybe the kid (who looks a bit older for Hyunshik to be thinking of him as a kid ) sensed the irritation. Hyunshik let the thoughts slide because more orders are coming and the traitor still isn’t back. He waved the boy--- Taeyang off with his hand questions and confusion forgotten for another day.

He does the same this time watching with the same puzzlement as before as Taeyang picks through the bags and the cup holders to fit them into his arms. He’s not too scrawny but the load is still too much for any normal person to carry. Hyunshik doesn’t mind his own stare because he knows he’s not the only one giving it and not the only one wondering why someone with that many orders doesn’t have at least one other person helping. Taeyang seems like a decent guy. He comes in with the same smile, orders in the same tone and thanks with the same mannerisms as your average run of the mill sweetheart. The girls always giggle when he comes in, the guys can’t help but smile and something about the café brightens at the touch of pink hair. It’s a soft shade, not too hot and not too faded and honestly that doesn’t matter because the boy is slipping away again and Hyunshik’s lips open just momentarily, “Do you---------“

Taeyang manages to catch the cup holder before it topples over and gives the barista the best of smiles because even if Taeyang didn’t fully hear the boy’s question it’s written all over his expression. He reads it quizzical and pitying like most and after the smile he’s turning with a half bow half stride. Taeyang’s out the door before his footing and his words can betray him.

Hyunshik watches Taeyang exit with the clutter in his hand and makes it a mission to finish his question next time because that damn smile caught him off-guard.

“Do you need help?” He gets it out today. It’s pretty slow but that’s not why he asks it. Not because his co-worker gives him a little nudge when the pink-haired boy walks into the shop. Regardless of knowing his name and scribbling it over the one drink he thinks is his Hyunshik thinks he’ll always refer to Taeyang as the pink-haired boy. Or the boy with the sleepy smile. Whichever works.

It’s not the slow tempo of orders that leaves him asking, nor is it the pitying looks that people give Taeyang every time he rushes out with the load. In fact, he’s not sure what makes him ask. Maybe it’s the good cranberry muffin he was blessed with before his shift started. He never gets the muffins for free.

It takes Taeyang a while to respond, and had Hyunshik not held back two mugs he probably wouldn’t have noticed. The kid always moves so well, can make it look extremely hard or extremely easy. Maybe that depends on his mood too. Someone with a smile like that Hyunshik doesn’t even think he gets mood. It’s subjective maybe. Taeyang moves against the traffic of the shop, so quick but so blended in that if it weren’t for the hair no one would notice. They do though. Hyunshik does too.

“Pardon me?” Taeyang asks, confusion still fitting right above his smile, hands reaching to fit the next two drinks in his arsenal, the two drinks Hyunshik is holding particularly hard onto. It’s the first set of words he’s said beside his order and really if the smile hadn’t prepared Hyunshik’s defense so well the voice might have caught him off-guard. Taeyang talks like he looks really. Low, sleep-ridden but bright as his smile.

“I said do you need help?”

“With-----?” Taeyang starts and Hyunshik does consider repeating himself but it’s the sigh that catches the boy’s attention. “No I got it! Besides it looks like you’ve got your hands full.” Hyunshik swore he wouldn’t turn to look and see if that line doubled, cafes have a tendency to do that. He swore but Taeyang is laughing too. It’s a triple threat and he’s really only looking away to save himself some face. Sure enough the line doubled in size and by the time he looks over to say goodbye he hears the chime of the door and sees a flash of pink. He’s back by the machines and gets a two seconds in before his co-worker teases him.

“You weren’t thinking of leaving your shift to help that cutie were you?” And Hyunshik for the life of him knows he should respond quick. Knows that anyone who understands and knows him knows he wouldn’t dare do such a thing. Skip out on his pay? Not work his full hours to help some boy with a load he brought on himself? But he pauses instead, pauses, shrugs his shoulder like he isn’t listening, like he doesn’t care and calls out the next drink.

For the life of him he can’t decide if he’d actually stop and help Taeyang.

He gets to entertain the thought faster than he would’ve thought. It starts off as a slow day and Hyunshik doesn’t know what it is about this boy that he seems to carry the tide of an entire day with him. In his smile, his hair, his shoulders, everything hints to a world moving too slow and too fast all at once. Taeyang has become a ripple in daily activity.

It’s a slow day meaning Hyunshik can take time with orders, can actually put the right amount of milk in a latte and a cappuccino and not get a dirty look from pretentious coffee drinkers. He can get assigned the specialty duty and he won’t complain. It’s one of those days when he can actually lean against the register and breathe. It’s a Tuesday, Tuesday is the calm after the Monday rush, people settling into the week. Wednesdays are more like people trying to make it to the end of the week and Friday is the welcome to the end. But Tuesdays are a nice lull from Monday resentment and sometimes Hyunshik welcomes it. Coffee shops will always be busy and he doesn’t get paid per customer but per hour so he makes sure to put in work when it’s due.

The relief is appreciate and his eyes even come close to closing when that ding of the bell signals a customer. He’s not sure what he hears first, the shoes scuffing across the floor, the fabric of the scrubs brushing back and forth or the heavy pants coming from familiar lips.

Taeyang brings with him every stress, every tear in his day and though it rips through the coffee shop he still manages to wear it calm and bright on his face. His world could be upside down and he’d hang gracefully.

“How can I help you?”

He knows the kid must be in deep shit because he pulls out a list, right after flashing an apologetic smile. Gentle as he is, he sure knows how to change the tide of the shop.

It’s halfway through reading back the order and Taeyang fishing through his pocket for his card that he has to ask. “How do you plan on carrying all this back?” Taeyang has this expression that Hyunshik’s really getting tired of, the kind where he looks like he doesn’t know why he’s being asked what he’s asked. Like everything is painfully obvious and not so complicated. It is though, it makes no sense why someone would toil so endlessly like this.

“I don’t plan, it just happens.” In his answer Hyunshik is painfully aware of just how simple Taeyang tries to make things. It’s another thing he can’t wrap his head around. Why not acknowledge it’s difficult, bitch and moan if he has to. It’s a great stress reliever.

“That’s some faith in your abilities. Must be nice to be clumsy.” Hyunshik’s not saying it because he’s clumsy or because of envy or something. He’s digging without noticing and Taeyang doesn’t really seem to get it. Either that or that’s always his expression, dazed and confused. The boy should be a model. They love the lost looks these days.

“What?” “What?”

It takes Hyunshik two seconds to realize Taeyang is talking and another two to realize he spoke out loud. Usually it’s not a problem, his filter however nonexistent is something he accepts and deals with. He’s actually grown to have power over the situations it puts him in. Right now however – not as much.

“Did you say I should be a model?” “Yeah you’re always staring into space, I’m surprised cars don’t hit you on the way to work.” Hyunshik doesn’t notice that Taeyang’s moving, maybe because he’s busy moving himself. Talking with his hands and getting to feel himself again because he feels a little out of it, caught for a second. Taeyang’s grabbing for the carriers and Hyunshik’s paused to look at him, moment forgotten and irritation back.

“You’re going to drop them.” “I never do.” “But you’re going to this time, that’s twice your normal load, what do they enjoy torturing interns? Do you enjoy them torturing you?” He’s speaking a lot but he’s also moving a lot. Mainly because Taeyang is moving away, well trying to and Hyunshik’s tried of gripping at the counter in annoyance. So he grips something else. Two carriers and three bags.

“Listen, I spent too long on all these orders, way too long for you to drop them and come halfway in asking for me to make them again. Do you know how annoying a soy decaf macchiato is?” He doesn’t really complain like that, well he voices what annoys him but doesn’t complain about his job. So to Hyunshik he doesn’t know where the words come from or why they come but he lets them. One, he has nothing else to say about it and it’s convincing. Because Taeyang flinches at the thought of dropping them and putting him to work and his selflessness is probably Hyunshik’s only ticket in.

“You won’t get in trouble?” “Not if you hurry the fuck up.”

Hyunshik’s moving like he knows the way but also to get out of the line of stares, one from his co-worker who’s cheesing way too hard and from Taeyang who’s appreciating too hard. His smile is small but takes up all the space around him, that smile with that goofy ass stare of his.

“Hyunshik-hyung.” That shouldn’t catch him off-guard and he turns around quickly to pretend it doesn’t, ready to throw whatever’s in the bag at Taeyang. “The hospital’s this way.”

Hyunshik’s grateful for a few things, that Taeyang moves pretty fast ( faster than he thought ), that Taeyang’s leading the way because he doesn’t see that he’s moving too fast, and that he’s following because he can’t catch whatever it is that’s going on on his face.

It’s after the route that he feels his previous anger resurfacing because was this kid really going to walk here with all these and expect to make it. And did he pass all these people with no one helping him everyday? He never spilled on the train? Not once?

“You’ve got that look again.” “What look?” If he’d been doing anything he stops now, sees Taeyang staring directly at him and that they’ve stopped moving. Since when did he fall so easily in place - or maybe that’s just the space around Taeyang, time moving at it’s own accord.

“Like you’re upset with everything, too many things at once.” “Some things annoy me.” For a moment Hyunshik catches another smile, it’s got a little too much in it so he looks away. The moment moves quickly because Taeyang’s head cants, Hyunshik sees it in the corner of his vision. “We’re here hyung.” Honestly he should’ve known better than to take his eyes off Taeyang. The moment he does the carriers are out his hands, all except on and a bag and is this kid even human? He turns from the hospital to his hand and back again only to see pink, as always.

He’s gone. He leaves the space between them as light as possible. Except for the weight in Hyunshik’s hands that have him looking down, a bag with a muffin and scribbled with words.

‘Thanks hyung! Ummmm your co-worker said you liked cranberry? You need a break so take your time going back to the shop. Also ummmmm xx-xx-xxx-xx ><’

Hyunshik knows a few things. One, he’s going to kill Joowon. Two, he’s going to eat the fuck out of this muffin. Three, he’s going to kill a certain pink-haired boy the next time he sees him.

1 note · View note

serendipitousoracle · 7 years

Photo

I wrote a thing for OCKiss because my drawing skills decided to be 404 not found and here it is! starring Egeire Mahariel and @mossandrock‘s Denoreth Surana, set in WAW!verse which also features @aubergion‘s Tamaris Surana and @meridok‘s Kylare Mahariel, during their stint in Vigil’s Keep, probably post-Awakening

Worthy

Egeire Mahariel had never really expected to be happy.

At least, not for a few years. Not after a couple of weeks being ground into the dirt and told he was nothing, that he deserved nothing, that he had better learn to shed his weaknesses and kill if he ever wanted to be worth anything. Not after he couldn't help but hear those words coming out of the mouths of others for years afterward, just phrased a little differently. “Happy” was for people who could have carried on the legacies of their greater predecessors. “Happy” was for people who could protect the ones they were duty-bound to make thrive– who could protect the ones they loved, no matter the cost. “Happy” was for people who weren't weak enough to be preyed upon.

But happiness was something so entirely different. Happiness was the beginnings of a reconciliation with the woman Egeire had thought would sooner throw herself off the nearest cliff than be soft with him. Happiness was a best friend who was kind and patient with him, who looked past his surface smile and did not flinch away when they found blood and bile. Happiness was purpose that did not want to drain him and discard his husk with disdain when he could not sustain it.

Happiness was the warm feeling in his chest and the hum in his throat when lips pressed gently to his and stirred him from his half-sleep.

“Falling asleep again on me?” Denoreth teased quietly, when Egeire's eyes opened to meet his. “Don't come crying to me to complain I don't cuddle you enough if you sleep through it.”

His words were accompanied by fingers ghosting over Egeire's ribs, forcing him to stifle the laughter that bubbled up in response. The other body in their bed shifted at the noise, stilling them both. After a moment, when nothing else came, Denoreth reached over Egeire to pull the blankets up over their still-sleeping lover; Zevran would not want to be awake until much later in the morning, if in the morning at all. Him asleep peacefully at Egeire's back was happiness as well, but these little stolen moments in the darkness before dawn were more Egeire and Denoreth's than anything.

“I was just thinking,” Egeire finally replied, voice cautiously low. Denoreth made a soft, curious sound, snuggling closer. The honest answer to the wordless inquiry caught in Egeire's throat. “… Ar lath ma, vhenan,” was all he could manage instead, faltering under the weight of his thoughts. He pressed his eyes into the crown of Denoreth's head, lips pressed tight.

There was a moment of patient silence, before Denoreth shifted against him, a full-bodied nudge, and raised a hand to Egeire's neck. “And?”

Egeire swallowed thickly, having half-hoped Denoreth wouldn't press. Mumbling, he forced it out: “When I was younger, Denoreth, I did not think much about my future; I- I didn't think I would have much of one. Let alone a happy one.”

Denoreth wrapped his arms around Egeire's broad shoulders, pressed close with fixed eyes that Egeire couldn't see, rapt with anticipation at the openness Denoreth still wasn't familiar with. “What do you mean, Egeire?”

He was patiently quiet, as Egeire slowly drew in a deep breath, and let it out again. The tip of his tongue swiped over well-kissed lips. Nothing else, physical or verbal, came to relieve him. Anxious, Egeire relented: “I… I never really knew what was going to become of me, Denoreth. I was no mage; I had failed from birth to follow in my father's footsteps, as leader and guide to my clan. I stood always in his shadow… or Kylare's, his first child. Mythal'enaste, with her around, I could hardly even aspire to Warmaster, never mind Keeper. A legacy that died at my feet, expectations that loomed, disappointed, from birth… or that first Arlathvhen, I suppose.”

A sigh, and Egeire pushed on, “My friends were all self-assured with nothing to hold them back, and I was left questioning until 18, where I became certain that either I would be lost in the cracks, or… be broken, ten years later, when… when he came back for me and didn't take no for an answer.” His arms had wrapped in turn around Denoreth's waist, and he squeezed. “I couldn't be just another hunter, Denoreth, I– he wouldn't let– I was meant to be somebody like my father was somebody but instead I just– I wasn't– I couldn't–”

Denoreth planted a series of light kisses along Egeire's jawline, quieting the tense, chopped words caught in his throat. "Are you sure we can't kill him again?" Denoreth murmured before he could catch himself, then quickly raised his eyes to his lover's. "You were always enough, love. They tell children such horrid fucking lies. You couldn't help but be enough."

Egeire gave a shuddering sigh, traces of a laugh around it at Denoreth's refreshing anger. The tension that had entered his frame eased away again in Denoreth's arms. Enoughenoughenoughyou'reenough. A smile finally managed to work its way back onto Egeire's lips, and he pressed a kiss to Denoreth's. “Ma serannas, vhenan. Just–” Egeire remembered Cyrron's last words, the way his coldness suddenly seemed so detached from Egeire himself, how empty it had felt in the end– “I am… trying, now, to let go of all those things that he said about me. To remember they're untrue.” He kissed Denoreth again, before resting his forehead back against Denoreth's. “It helps, to hear somebody else be as adamant about my worth as he was about my weakness.”

Denoreth grinned fiercely in the low light and kissed Egeire with just as much fire. "Don't worry; I can out-stubborn any dead man in Thedas," he promised when he finally let Egeire breathe, and Egeire couldn't help but feel a dizzy thrill of delight and relief. Their bodies folded together again, stealing a few more kisses while daybreak was still a while away. Denoreth cupped Egeire's jaw, thumbs tracing the lines of reverent freedom inscribed in ink over Egeire's strong cheekbones.

Egeire couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes, but for once he felt no need to hide them. He was safe here, safe and warm and loved. He was enough, and softness or vulnerability would not be read as weakness. They trailed silently down his face until Denoreth's thumbs swiped across them, and Denoreth paused. The next kiss was gentler. “You're such a good, noble, worthy man,” he murmured firmly, punctuating the statement with further kisses. “You deserved so much more than what you got, so much fucking more–”

“Denoreth–” Egeire tried, flushed and still teary, heart blown open in the moonlight, only to be cut off by another kiss.

“No, no, Egeire, I mean it,” Denoreth insisted. “You got shit. You're a good hunter– you helped keep two bumbling mages alive in the wilderness when we didn't even nearly have enough food. You take care of people. Even– even if they might not deserve it… all the time. You were– are– everything your clan could've asked you to be. More, even.” Denoreth fell quiet for a second, eyes roaming Egeire's desperately rapt face, meeting eyes shining with tears.

He almost crumbled, pulling himself up a little to kiss across Egeire's cheeks and kiss away his tears. “I mean it,” Denoreth said. “I mean it, I mean it, I mean it, now and forever. You deserved so much more and you were worth so much more and fuck, I–” Denoreth's brow furrowed and his ears drooped– “I love you so goddamn much, and you deserve so much more than a fucked up, shem-battered–”

Denoreth was cut off only by a groan and shifting from behind Egeire. A warm, strong chest pressed against Egeire's back, an arm flopping over his shoulder to plant a hand firmly over Denoreth's mouth. “Amores,” Zevran pleaded tiredly, “go back to sleep.”

Egeire realized belatedly that their voices had risen. He gave a quiet “Ir abelas,” as a muffled 'sorry' came from under Zevran's hand. Zevran just sighed, pressed a kiss to the back of Egeire's neck, mumbled something in Antivan that ended with 'amor,' and settled in where he was now vaguely snuggled. Egeire blinked as Denoreth started to settle back in as well, firmly sandwiching Egeire between his lovers. “What was that?” he asked the man now at his back.

Zevran hummed. “Te amo, amor,” he said quietly, giving a blatantly shorter answer than whatever Egeire had heard. And missing “el something-with-an-'M',” for that matter. Zevran seemed set on going back to sleep, however, and Egeire knew he wasn't going to be getting the real answer any time soon, if at all.

But he was able to close his eyes again to the thought that he was enough, that he was loved. Sleepy kisses against Egeire's skin coaxed him into relaxing. The doubts gnawing at him quieted in the face of unconditional love, after the uncomplicated release of tears. Egeire let the other two shift against him until they were comfortable, and filled the space in between, ready to drift back to sleep. He could trust them. He was safe.

He was happy.

#oracleposts #Egeire Mahariel #Denoreth Surana #Well Adjusted Wardens #ockiss17 #also ft. a cameo from zevran #it's ockiss week but the ship is generally always both #Egeire/Denoreth #and #Egeire/Zevran/Denoreth #they're good babs #i love these boys so much

8 notes · View notes