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folkloreguk · 4 years ago

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Querencia (prequel)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in this format in so long, so I hope it’s okay! Someone once asked me to write a prequel to my previous work “Querencia”, so I finally got around to it (after like 2 years rip dfghjk)

[!you don’t have to read both of these parts to understand either one!]

genre: optional bias (male) x reader (female), fluff, explaining how they ended up together, a tiny bit of smut but it’s marked so you can skip if you want, badboy!bias, nerd/shy!reader, her parents are kinda judgemental (only mentioned), secret relationship?, this is an absolute train wreck lmao

words: ~5.2 k

(H/N means “his name”)

ok strap in for this…every time I write a badboy!au I lose a piece of my sanity

basically you used to go to the same school as him

but that’s the only association you had with him because you never actually talked to him in school

he was known to be a “bad boy”

not as in being a horrible person but rather…

he liked to challenge teachers/adults when he didn’t agree with them

and they couldn’t do much because he ended up having pretty decent grades and most of the time his arguments were valid

you had heard your fair share of stories about him

of him getting into a fight with the captain of the football team

apparently, he had stood up for a girl because said captain tried to take advantage of her at a party when she was drunk

you remember being lowkey impressed but didn’t condone violence either way

so, at the same time you were kind of intimidated by him

there were other stories circulating around

of him hooking up with half the school

in quite inappropriate places if I may add

but no one really knew what was the truth tbh

not that it really mattered to you

you were a typical good-girl-nerd-kinda person and so was your friend group

which meant you weren’t even paying attention to him half of the time

plus you thought you’d never see him again after graduating from school

until sooner or later you wouldn’t be given any other choice

because when you walked into your first ever university lecture, he was there

literally one row in front of you???

you were shook because apparently he was studying the same subject as you??

he had even more tattoos and piercings now

one tattoo covered almost the whole front of his neck

he had black boots on and his pants were ripped at the knees

and obviously he had to be wearing a leather jacket

not that you were staring at him (yes you were)

frankly you thought he looked hot

great it’s your first day and you’re already failing to pay attention

and then he turned his head a little and smirked at you???

suddenly you loved looking at your professor and not him

but since you hadn’t paid attention you were left with questions after the lecture

unfortunately the professor was gone before you could ask them

and your social awkwardness made it hard for you to just start talking to a random stranger

so when he go up and made his way to the end of the seats he had to walk past you

“HEy I have a question” you blurted out when he was at your level

the fact that he was so relaxed talking to you made you even more stressed

and he helped you luckily

then, before he could say anything else but the answer to your question, you had escaped the conversation

because perhaps you still found him a little intimidating

but when you walked out of the hall, he quickly caught up to you

“Hold on, do I know you? You seem familiar” he asked

so you had no choice but to explain to him that you went to school together

he was actually really polite to you

but you had sworn yourself education would come first for you, boys second

so you got out of that situation as quickly as possible

the next two weeks you saw him at lectures but always kept out of his way

he said hello a few times and you would nod and smile shyly

within days he had collected a bunch of girls that often sat with him

you guessed he was staying true to his reputation after all

then one day you were in the lovely park behind your university building because you had a break between lectures

you had brought old bread to feed the ducks in the little pond

but suddenly they all swam away from you, over to the other side of the pond

and you couldn’t BELIEVE

he was sitting there, throwing pieces of his perfectly fine sandwich to the ducks all while putting on an extra holy expression

so you went over to fight (not literally lmao)

he greeted you by saying “The ducks made you stop avoiding me?”

you were shook because how did he even notice

“What? You don’t have enough girl-attention yet?” you said

“Not from pretty girls like you” he said

you must have given him a severely disgusted look because he quickly changed his flirty expression

“What made you avoid me? Did I ever say something wrong to you?” he asked

“No you didn’t…you just don’t seem like the crowd I’d hang out with” you confessed

“Wow, I didn’t take you for the judgmental kind” he said

and he looked pretty upset actually??

“I don’t think you’re a bad person” you said

“But I’m home at least by 9 pm every night to study, my parents look at me like I’m a saint, I’ve never been in a relationship and I get nervous when someone as much as raises their voice at me…you strike me as the complete opposite of all those things” you added

without missing a beat, he asked “Don’t they say opposites attract?”

you realized maybe you really had written him off too soon…or perhaps you had worried that he would take your attention off your studies too much

which wouldn’t have been surprising considering how your first lecture with him had gone

and from then on you tried to be nicer to him

sometimes he voluntarily came to sit next to you in class

you didn’t understand why

because you barely spoke to him due to being awkward and when you did you felt like he judged you for being so shy

he had a way with words and within days you found yourself thinking of him more

his stupidly handsome features, tattooed knuckles and pierced eyebrow…it all attracted you maybe a little too much

it was terrifying to you…how he talked to you so easily and already you were eating right off his spoon

what if he was only playing around and you were nothing but a toy girl to him

but then you cursed yourself for saying that…he said he wasn’t a bad person and you were going to believe so unless he proved himself otherwise

spoiler: that never happened

one autumn night you walked out of university after class, it was dark already and pouring rain

you realized you had forgotten your umbrella at home…but you had to walk there by foot…absolutely fantastic

so you pulled your hood over your head and braced yourself to get completely soaked within seconds

suddenly you heard a voice behind you

“Let me bring you home” he said

“No worries, I’m fine” you tried to tell him

“Come on. You said you live twenty minutes from here. If you get on my motorbike I’ll get you home within a few minutes” he said

you were like “Motorbike??”

“Yeah, come on, it’s over there” he said, and he walked ahead of you

basically he didn’t really give you time to argue

when you didn’t follow him right away, he turned around and gave you a look

“You’ll only get a cold if you walk home in this weather” he said

although your parents had drilled into you the idea that motorbikes were dangerous, you went with him after all

he offered you his spare helmet and you put it on

but you were struggling to close it

so he helped you

he was focused on the helmet, but you were staring at him just because you could

his hair was completely soaked by now and water drops were running down his black leather jacket

he had a habit of biting the inside of his cheek when he was concentrating

and with his hands almost on your face, it was the closest he’s ever been to you

it made you weirdly nervous tbh

but before you knew it he had closed the helmet and told you to get onto the motorcycle behind him

“Hold on to the back of the bike or to me” he said

you were surprised at how he didn’t urge you to touch him

and at first you held on to the tail of the motorcycle but the moment you hit a speed bump you changed your mind QUICKLY

your arms swung around his waist tightly and you felt his chest move when he chuckled

like he had said, it only took a few minutes to get you home, and you told him the way there

and surprisingly you really liked being on the motorcycle???

you had thought you’d be scared but it felt amazing

except for how freezing cold the wind was on your wet cheeks ☹

shortly before you pulled up in your street you told him

“You should let me get off a little earlier…my mom will kill me if she sees me on a motorbike”

he didn’t argue but stopped two houses before yours

you felt like the rain had gotten even worse so you really didn’t have time for big words

you quickly thanked him and he gave you his famous smirk before you ran home as quickly as possible

when you had reached the front door you turned his way and he was still there, making sure you got inside

looking at him there, in the downpour in his cool jacket and on his motorcycle, your cheeks involuntarily got hotter

when you got into your room that night and checked your phone, you had one new message on Instagram

you opened it and it was from him???

“Take a warm shower or you’ll be sick tomorrow” it said

he must had sent it seconds after you had entered your house before he had driven away

he really became a bigger mystery to you from one day to the other

because you had no idea what all of this meant???

maybe you should have gotten the hint way earlier

but you didn’t really know the first thing about dating so how were you supposed to know?

but then around two weeks later something else occurred

again, you had class until the early evening

on this specific day, your university was hosting a party for the new students

technically, you would have fallen into that group of new students

but you weren’t one for partying and after being in class for hours on end, all you wanted was to crawl into your bed and rest

so when your course had ended you made your way out of the university building

and you could tell the party had already started because of the music playing

plus there were people all over the place

some were already drunk…you would have been surprised but also this was university after all

you quickly stepped out onto the street and began walking in the direction of your home

from somewhere, you suddenly heard voices

they were making gross noises, as if calling a cat, and asking “sweetheart, do you have a minute?”

when you turned your head, you saw a group of (most certainly) drunk men-boys goggling at you

and because you didn’t slow down or even react to them, they walked after you

you told yourself they would leave you alone if you only walked far enough from the bus station they had waited at

but inside your pocket you clenched your keys between your knuckles

all of a sudden, something touched your shoulders

you almost had a heart attack and raised your hand out of your pocket

“You didn’t wait for me” H/N said from next to you

he placed his infamous leather jacket around your frame and swung an arm around your shoulder

you were about to tell him he had scared the living hell out you

but he was only glaring at the disgusting guys behind you

“I suggest you go home and sleep it off. And learn to take a hint from a girl when she’s this visibly uninterested” he said

the enraged stare he sent to the group of young men made even you feel slightly uneasy

but it worked…they distanced themselves from you if only hesitantly and with a clearly pissed off attitude

“Thank you” you said and were about to give him back his jacket

“Nothing to thank me for. And I gave you that because your sweater looks really thin. Keep it for now” he said

you were taken aback…as always

“Why aren’t you driving your motorbike today?”

“I am, but it’s parked around the corner here. Want me to drive you home?” he asked

and he gave the look again

which look you may ask

the one in which he stared at your eyes and then at your lips…and then your eyes…and then your lips

and his lips were so pretty

“You know what I want?” you asked, “I wanna know if there’s anything you want from me”

he furrowed his brows in confusion

“Why are you always being like this to me?” you went on

“Are you trying to get into my pants?” you blurted out

and then instantly regretted it

especially when he said “Do I really seem like that kind of person?”

“I’ve heard stories about you…” you said

“What kind of stories?” he asked

“Of you hooking up with half of our school back then” you said

he laughed???

and then said “And does it matter how many people I’ve had sex with?”

“It makes me think that’s what you want from me, too. And if that’s the case, I’ll have to disappoint you” you said

“Jesus, Y/N. I want to date you” he said

when I say you were shocked it would be an understatement

hot-tattooed-bad-boy wanted to date you??

and you must have signaled those exact words just by your expression

because he said “I’m telling you again, opposites attract. Don’t you at least wanna give it a try?”

of course you wanted to

“Alright…but I’ve never done this before” you said

“We’ll take it slow, I promise” he said

and then “That means I can finally tell you how goddamn adorable you are”

was it gonna be like this forever??? he compliments you and you feel like your cheeks are on fire???

probably

“I’ll bring you home, come on” he said, swinging his arm around your shoulder again

even this gesture made you shy

you didn’t even know how to respond

and this time, being behind him on the motorbike felt like a whole new sensation

now you were close to him, knowing he wanted you there as much as you did…

and it 100% made you scream on the inside

when he dropped you off, you didn’t know if you were supposed to hug him???

you awkwardly handed him his jacket back

“So, where are we going on our first date?” he asked

“First date?” you asked

“Yeah…people who date usually go on dates, don’t they?” he teased you

“Um…what about the cinema?” you suggested

“Fine, let’s see what they’re showing and I’ll text you, okay?” he said

and he texted you remotely fifteen minutes after you had arrived at home that night

…

so you went to the cinema the next day

before the date, you were essentially losing your mind

what were you supposed to wear??

would he care what you wore??

but even if he didn’t, you wanted to look pretty

your anxiety was kind of going through the roof for hours before he even arrived

he had picked you up, somehow looking even hotter than usually??

or maybe those were just your hormones going insane

“You look beautiful” he said when you had climbed onto the motorbike behind him

“And you look handsome” you had replied

his smile had a faint shyness in it, but only for the blink of a second

at the cinema, you weren’t sure how to act differently around a crush than when you were with friends tbh

did you want to hold his hand?? hell yeah

did you do it?? absolutely not

did you want to point out obsessed you were with his body art?? most certainly

did you?? oh no way, you weren’t gonna expose yourself like that (yet)

luckily, he was easy to talk to and had the patience of a saint

he grinned at you when you would become shy, as if it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing EVER to you, especially in front of him

he also probably called you cute like 13 times whilst you were waiting for the movie to begin alone

in the dark, your hands brushed whenever you both reached for the popcorn at the same time

when you looked over at him, he was chuckling

“Are you doing that on purpose?” he whispered

“No way!” you whispered back

“No? I am” he said

you didn’t even know how to respond to that

but he seemed very pleased with himself when he tilted his head at you flirtingly

were there supposed to be this many butterflies in your belly at only your first date?

what have I gotten myself into??? you thought

…

afterwards you walked back to his motorcycle, shoulders brushing now and then

you were in the middle of analyzing every second of the film you had watched, gesturing around in the air and talking excitedly

he leaned against his motorbike and grinned at you in pure admiration while he listened

mid-sentence you suddenly said “Sorry, did I get too invested in this? Do you wanna bring me home now?”

“What? No, if anything I wanna listen to you for another few hours” he said “Do you wanna come back to my place?”

you didn’t know if he was flirting or joking again, but his face was serious

plus you weren’t sure what ‘coming back to his place’ really intended

and once again his sense for reading your mind struck

“I’m not talking about having sex, if that’s why you look so worried. This is only our first date, remember? If you simply don’t feel like it, that’s cool, I’ll bring you home” he said

“No, I want to go with you” you quickly changed your mind “But I have to be home by midnight, or my parents will worry”

“I’ll get you back home by then” he said, smiling in triumph

…

his flat impressed you in a couple of ways

you admired that he already lived alone

plus it was so much more organized and cleaner than you had expected it from a college boy

his bedroom was your favorite part of the apartment

there was no doubt it was his and only his place

posters of his favorite films were plastered on the walls, his bedsheets were dark, a neon sign hung above the headboard of his bed and in the corner, a vinyl player stood

you loved the windowsill that gave you a view out of the fifth-floor flat and had the impulse to sit down there, to watch the cars pass by on the street underneath

“make yourself at home” he had said

and somehow you had ended up on his bed, right next to him

he let you rest your head on his arm while he listened to you

not only did you discuss the movie you had seen

you also talked about literally anything either of you loved

and you realized quickly, that aside from the different way of living, you had surprisingly many things in common

he put on his favorite plate on the vinyl player so you could listen to the music he loved

when he laid down next to you again, he offered his open arms

for the first time, you put your cheek against his chest, listening not only to the music but also his heartbeat

you remember liking his cologne and how warm he was

“I’ve never been so close to someone who wasn’t my friend or family” you admitted quietly

“Does it feel different?” he asked

“Of course” you said

did he not realize???

how your heart hammered against your ribcage and butterflies were flooding your belly and how there was only him in your head and his stupid cute smile and his tattoos and piercings and deep voice and ohmygodhisvoice

but when you looked up from his chest and checked his expression, he looked equally as fond as you felt

“Being with you feels different from being with other girls to me, too” he said

“It feels so much better” he added then

“What do you see in me that you don’t see in them?” you asked suddenly

“I have to admit, at first I thought it was cute, teasing you and seeing you get shy, well, I guess it still is. I liked the idea of getting to know someone with such a completely different image, so sweet and good” he said

and as he did, he softly brushed his hand over your lip

you thought you were going to have a heart attack

“But damn you’re so funny and kind…how can I not want you this way?” he said

and he looked so honest, almost vulnerable, a sight you never thought you’d see

“In which way?” you asked

“In every way” he said

and with one look, he erased all fears you’d had about him and how he might have felt about you

suddenly you understood why people went on dates all the time and searched for love…

at some point you realized how it was past midnight already

he drove you home quickly, and luckily you didn’t get into too much trouble with your parents

this time when he dropped you off, he gave you a hug that made you want to stay in his arms forever

from then on, your feelings could only get worse and you were stressed about what it would do to you

you thought your crush was bad then?? it was nothing

within the next weeks, you fell head over heels for the cliché bad boy and there was no way to stop it

you had told him you didn’t want to prioritize a relationship over your education

so 90% of your dates ended up being study dates

although he was the biggest distraction in your life, this way you at least got a little something done

usually, it went a little like this:

you’d be sitting down at a library table, with him across from you

your head would be buried in a book within minutes, only occasionally looking up at him

and he’d be busy telling you all things he could possibly come up with:

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are? I know, even if you’re not looking at me”

“There’s a really cute girl here, but she’s ignoring me. Do you think she likes me too?”

“Hey, do you wanna go out with me sometime, like…on a date? A real date?”

“You know what other people do at the library? There’s an empty space way in the back, I can show you…”

yes sometimes he’d say suggestive things to you

but they were jokes, simply a part of his character

he never pressured you to do anything

even your first kiss took a while to occur

it was one night when he brought you home from a date (this time a real one)

when you said your goodbyes, you suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of affection

his eyes were so warm and only on you, always

softly, his tongue swept over his bottom lip, teeth toying with his piercing

“Can you kiss me?” you asked

something sparked in his eyes…he had won even more of your trust, and rightfully so

his fingers gently lifted your chin, and you always thought you’d be nervous through your first kiss, but no…it was serenity

it was butterflies peacefully floating and fireworks going off all at the same time

had you known how good this felt, you would have asked him to kiss you way earlier tbh

the whole evening until you fell asleep you couldn’t stop smiling

and you liked to think even in slumber, the corners of your mouth had been curled upwards because of him

from then on, kissing him had turned into your favorite pastime

it was especially bad when you tried to have “study dates” at his place

90% of the time, your studying turned into making out with him

oh? you’re taking a break and getting a glass of water from the kitchen? oops now you’re on his sofa, sitting in his lap and kissing

the way he handled you with such confidence and made flirty remarks all the way through your make-out-sessions only reminded you of his experience

sometimes you felt bad, knowing he was holding himself back

other days you wished he wasn’t so hesitant with touching you less innocently

but sometimes you did stop him, if his hands wandered a little too far down your torso, or if things seemed to get too steamy

he would always apologize, even if you told him there was nothing wrong

but his confidence made you feel more comfortable with every time you were in his arms

!!!SMUT AHEAD IN ITALICS

one day you were in the middle of watching a movie on his bed

but all you had been thinking of were his lips and hands

when you kissed him, things quickly turned more intense

only this time you asked him to go further

initially, he was worried

“I wish I could make this more special for you” he said

“If it’s with you, it’s perfect, no matter where and when” you assured him

the first time, he was the most gentle he’s ever been with you

because he had never pressured you and you had chosen this exact moment yourself, you weren’t even close to as nervous as you thought you’d be

and from then on, you only became more comfortable when it came to sex

you could tell he loved showing you and trying new things with you

and before you knew it, he was actually showing you that empty space at the back of the library he had joked about

usually, you were hesitant to do anything risky in public

but when it was late and the library was nearing closing hours, it was almost fully vacant

he could never get enough of your innocent eyes while your lips were wrapped around his cock, kneeling on the carpet floor of the university library in front of him

he’d never get over when he fucked you from behind, two of his fingers in your mouth, muffling your moans while you were hidden behind the bookshelves

other nights he’d show up outside of your house in the middle of the night, just because he missed you so much

*cough* querencia *cough*

there was something about nighttime that made you feel as if you were the only two people in the world

then it would be him and you in his bed, on his kitchen counter, his sofa, his shower or any random wall of his apartment

now you might have understood why the girls loved him

but they didn’t love him the way you did

!!!SMUT ENDING

he loved showing you off to his friends

some of them looked equally as intimidating as him

but as you had learned, most of that was simply looks and wasn’t to be taken seriously

when you hung out with his friends, he had you sitting in his lap, usually bragging about something you had done or said to him

you were like his personal, pretty gem and he was making sure everyone knew

and as much as he wanted you to be known to his friends, you wished you could have told your parents about him

one day, they would understand how much you loved him

they would be able to look past his tattoos and pierced skin and see how amazing he was

but for now, he was your little secret

every night, he sent you a goodnight text right before you went to sleep

sometimes he’d attach a picture of himself

in his pajamas, with messy hair and heavy eyelids, even he looked almost cute to you

other nights, when he was still out, it’d be a mirror selfie, with his hair pushed back perfectly, lifting his head so you’d see your favorite tattoo of his on his neck

his clothes pitch black and shirt lazily tucked into his belt on one side

his eyes would have the cocky gaze you knew from when you first met him

only now it was only meant for you

his message would read:

“I love you angel. See you in your dreams”

194 notes · View notes

thechosenburrito · 4 years ago

Text

The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 5-Too Clever by Half

Word Count: 1,460

Description:

Lukas and Mathias agreed to go to the park together, but are bogged down thinking about personal issues.

Author’s Note:

Yessss more Dennor. I’m having so much fun writing so I hope you guys like it. I’m so excited to write more this summer so let me know what you want me to write more about! Notes, asks, and comments mean so much!

Previous: 4-Treat me like a Fool

The sun peeked between the curtains in Lukas's room. He stirred a bit, regretting the promise he made to Mathias. He pulled himself out of bed and started heating some water for coffee. It was, unfortunately, instant coffee but it was the best thing he could do considering the circumstances. He threw open the curtains to let the light fill the room and was met with complaints from Emil.

"You know, just because you get up at the ass crack of dawn, doesn't mean the rest of the world does." Emil groaned as he rolled over in bed.

"I'm making coffee."

Emil set up and started pulling on some day clothes.

"I hate you."

Lukas poured two cups of instant coffee and left one on the nightstand next to Emil.

"I hate you less now."

Lukas sat at the edge of his bed and looked out the window. He sipped his coffee and began thumbu=ing through the book at the foot of his bed.

"I take it you're up this early because you're going to the park with Mathias," Emil said, blowing on his coffee?

"You heard that?"

"I had my ear pressed to the door of course I did."

Lukas closed the book.

"Well, I did promise to go. That doesn't mean I wanna go," Lukas replied in a bit of a huff.

Emil stood up and pulled on a shirt.

"Yeah but you can still say no."

"I know that."

Emil sat back on the bed and started trying his shoes.

"Well, then if you don't wanna go, call him and cancel."

"I'm not gonna do that."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because you wanna go."

"I didn't say that-"

"Admit you wanna go with him!" Emil almost screamed, pulling on a jacket.

"Why are you like this!?...and where are you going?" Lukas said, looking up from his book to see that Emil was fully dressed and heading towards the door.

"You need to admit that you have feelings for 'that asshole' because you keep repressing it and messing with your brain! It's just gonna make your life worse to ignore it." Emil said opening the door.

"And I'm going sightseeing. We're in Italy, and I'm probably never coming back here again so I'm gonna enjoy it."

"Have fun on your little park date or whatever."

Emil stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Lukas stood up from the table and threw himself back on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

"What's wrong with me?" he muttered under his breath.

Was this a date? No, right? Definitely not a date. It was just two people going to a park to hang out. Two people who just so happened to be competing in the biggest Chess competition in the world. Two people who also happened to share an oddly intimate moment yesterday. Wait that sounded wrong. Not like that. He rolled over in the bed. It's fine, they're just friends. What's the worst that could happen? If Mathias didn't have feelings for him then everything would be fine. Lukas would just keep living his life and after the competition, he would never have to see Mathias again. But if Mathias did have feelings...things would be much more complicated. As much as spending his life with Mathias, maybe getting a house somewhere, or traveling the world, it just wouldn't work out. The media would be all over it. Not to mention what would happen to Emil. But most of all, when Lukas really thought about it, he just had too many flaws to be in a relationship. Maybe but Mathias did like him, but not really him, some kind of strange idealized version of him. Maybe that's what happening, Lukas didn't love Mathias, did he? Was it even real? If it wasn't real, would he think about him this much when the literal biggest match of his life was only days away?

Lukas let out a long sigh and rolled out of bed. He pulled on his clothes and made his way to the door. He wasn't getting Mathias out of his head by sitting around in his room.

- - -

Mathias rolled over in bed to snooze his alarm. He'd already done this 3 times and regretted telling Lukas to meet him so early in the morning. But he figured that Lukas was probably more a morning person and would think he's weird for getting up at noon.

Mathias groaned and dragged himself out of bed. He hissed, half-jokingly, as he drew open the curtains to see that the sun had just barely risen completely. He made his way to the bathroom, catching a glance at a notepad he had been writing on the night before. Last night's phone call with Alfred came back all at once.

"So you're telling me you DIDN'T talk to him yesterday."

"I...no I didn't get to. His brother showed up, but Lukas never did."

"*sigh* ...you're killing me here Mathias."

"Hey, I tried! It's not my fault he didn't show!"

Mathias started brushing his teeth.

"I know I know...look you just need something on him!"

"I thought this was about getting in his head and figuring out his strategies. You know, so I can actually win?"

"Look there's been a change of plans."

He started styling his hair.

"What kind of change?"

"Well...I've been thinking about it, and you don't have to win the match on Sunday."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, if you win on Sunday, everything will be great! You'll have the title, maybe you do a few commercials, a couple of brand deals, the whole shebang! ...but if you lose... it doesn't have to be a deal-breaker anymore! If you can dig up something on the other guy we can maybe... um... make it so that... you know..."

"You want to frame him for cheating?"

"Woah Woah Woah! That's your idea, not mine haha... Of course, we wouldn't frame him for cheat... but we could sure take the wind of his win you know... make you look like you were against the odds..."

Mathias started pulling on his clothes and putting on his shoes.

"Look I don't need that, man. I'm a good player."

"No yeah no I know that. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about finances., deals, the money!"

"And I'm talking about me winning the match."

"Since when did you care about winning?"

"I don't!"

"Well, you don't care about winning, and it's sounding like you don't care about money, so what do you care about then!?"

Mathias checked his reflection and headed to the park.

- - -

Lukas was huffing and puffing. He hadn't realized how much walking with going to the park would involve. He looked around and came to the realization that he was so far into the park that he had no idea where he was. He just kept wandering around until he eventually saw a small lake. There was a bench at the edge of the lake with someone sitting on it. Lukas didn't care who it was, at that point, he knew his knees were about to buckle. He made his way over to the bench and sat down on it.

"Sorry... if I bothered you... I just really... needed a break," Lukas said, trying to catch his breath.

Lukas turned to see that it was, in fact, Mathias. He was digging in a paper bag for a slice of bread.

"I mean, you're not bothering me! Considering I asked you to come!" Mathias beamed, passing him a slice of bread. "I was getting a little worried 'cause I realized that I forgot to tell you where to meet me. But hey! You made it!"

Lukas smiled a bit. He looked at the slice of bread Mathias handed to him. It was a bit stale, but he wanted to be polite. He took a bite of the bread.

"Woah what are you doing!"

"...eating..."

Mathias laughed.

"No silly! That's for the ducks!"

Lukas swallowed.

"Oh."

Mathias started tearing pieces of bread and tossing them into the water. Ducks and their ducklings paddled their way over to the edge of the small lake and started picking at the pieces of bread. Lukas did the same, occasionally holding his hand out to Mathias for another piece of bread.

Lukas yawned, remembering that he only had one sip of coffee. Was he really sleeping that badly all the time? He rested his head on Mathias's shoulder and felt himself blush.

"Heh... uh... you know I think I heard somewhere that you're supposed to feed them seeds and not bread. I think bread is bad for them or something..."

Mathias's voice faded out as Lukas drifted off on Mathias's shoulders.

Next Chapter: 6-Someone else’s Parasite (Coming Soon!)

A/N:

This is technically late but I had fun writing it that’s all that matters!

I’m going to take this time to plug my non-hetalia work “ Intro to Love ” (on Wattpad) about a college student who struggles to keep her superpowers a secret and while making new friends. How much of her normal life will she give up to save her friends from a mysterious villain that drains students’ brains and turns them into zombies? The complete Chapter 1 is out NOW AND so is Chapter 2.1-'The last of the Good Days’! Go read them! Right now! They’re waiting for you! Chapter 1.1 is here on my tumblr!

Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story!

Quotev link: here

#hetal #hetalia nordics #hetalia denmark #hetalia noway #hetalia dennor #dennor #hws #hws nordics #hws denmark #hws norway #hws dennor #norway x denmark #denmark x norway #hetalia fanfiction

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hetalia-nordic-trash · 4 years ago

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The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 5-Too Clever by Half

Word Count: 1,460

Description:

Lukas and Mathias agreed to go to the park together, but are bogged down thinking about personal issues.

Author’s Note:

Also check out my new writing blog @thechosenburrito where I post all my writing both Hetalia related and original writing!

Previous: 4-Treat me like a Fool

"You know, just because you get up at the ass crack of dawn, doesn't mean the rest of the world does." Emil groaned as he rolled over in bed.

"I'm making coffee."

Emil set up and started pulling on some day clothes.

"I hate you."

Lukas poured two cups of instant coffee and left one on the nightstand next to Emil.

"I hate you less now."

Lukas sat at the edge of his bed and looked out the window. He sipped his coffee and began thumbuming through the book at the foot of his bed.

"I take it you're up this early because you're going to the park with Mathias," Emil said, blowing on his coffee?

"You heard that?"

"I had my ear pressed to the door of course I did."

Lukas closed the book.

"Well, I did promise to go. That doesn't mean I wanna go," Lukas replied in a bit of a huff.

Emil stood up and pulled on a shirt.

"Yeah but you can still say no."

"I know that."

Emil sat back on the bed and started trying his shoes.

"Well, then if you don't wanna go, call him and cancel."

"I'm not gonna do that."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because you wanna go."

"I didn't say that-"

"Admit you wanna go with him!" Emil almost screamed, pulling on a jacket.

"Why are you like this!?...and where are you going?" Lukas said, looking up from his book to see that Emil was fully dressed and heading towards the door.

"And I'm going sightseeing. We're in Italy, and I'm probably never coming back here again so I'm gonna enjoy it."

"Have fun on your little park date or whatever."

Emil stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Lukas stood up from the table and threw himself back on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

"What's wrong with me?" he muttered under his breath.

Lukas let out a long sigh and rolled out of bed. He pulled on his clothes and made his way to the door. He wasn't getting Mathias out of his head by sitting around in his room.

- - -

"So you're telling me you DIDN'T talk to him yesterday."

"I...no I didn't get to. His brother showed up, but Lukas never did."

"*sigh* ...you're killing me here Mathias."

"Hey, I tried! It's not my fault he didn't show!"

Mathias started brushing his teeth.

"I know I know...look you just need something on him!"

"I thought this was about getting in his head and figuring out his strategies. You know, so I can actually win?"

"Look there's been a change of plans."

He started styling his hair.

"What kind of change?"

"Well...I've been thinking about it, and you don't have to win the match on Sunday."

"What are you talking about?"

"You want to frame him for cheating?"

Mathias started pulling on his clothes and putting on his shoes.

"Look I don't need that, man. I'm a good player."

"No yeah no I know that. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about finances., deals, the money!"

"And I'm talking about me winning the match."

"Since when did you care about winning?"

"I don't!"

"Well, you don't care about winning, and it's sounding like you don't care about money, so what do you care about then!?"

Mathias checked his reflection and headed to the park.

- - -

"Sorry... if I bothered you... I just really... needed a break," Lukas said, trying to catch his breath.

Lukas turned to see that it was, in fact, Mathias. He was digging in a paper bag for a slice of bread.

Lukas smiled a bit. He looked at the slice of bread Mathias handed to him. It was a bit stale, but he wanted to be polite. He took a bite of the bread.

"Woah what are you doing!"

"...eating..."

Mathias laughed.

"No silly! That's for the ducks!"

Lukas swallowed.

"Oh."

Lukas yawned, remembering that he only had one sip of coffee. Was he really sleeping that badly all the time? He rested his head on Mathias's shoulder and felt himself blush.

"Heh... uh... you know I think I heard somewhere that you're supposed to feed them seeds and not bread. I think bread is bad for them or something..."

Mathias's voice faded out as Lukas drifted off on Mathias's shoulders.

Next Chapter: 6-Someone else’s Parasite (Coming Soon)

A/N:

This is technically late but I had fun writing it that’s all that matters!

Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story!

Also, again, check out my writing blog @thechosenburrito!

Quotev link: here

#hetalia #hetalia nordics #hetalia denmark #hetalia norway #hetalia dennor #dennor #hws #hws nordics #hws denmark #hws norway #hws dennor #norway x denmark #denmark x norway #hetalia fanfiction #chess au

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car-on-the-stairs · 5 years ago

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Lucie Herondales Pet Duck.

I had this headcanon that Lucie tries to adopt a duck and then I ended up writing this, sooooooooo... I may or may not have already written multiple chapters? I tried y’all, but its been a long time since Ive written fanficition. I might post more if people seem to like this.

“Why, he’s adorable James! You are just cruel and heartless.”

Lucie gave a dramatic flair of her arm as her brother glared at her.

“Yes, I'm the problem, not the bloodthirsty beast that has lulled you into a false sense of security in order to gain our trust and then, when your back is turned it will sneak into our rooms in the middle of the night and-”

Lucie was barely listening, she had already begun to break off pieces of the bread loaf she was carelessly grasping and scattering them on the ground. The handsome bird was rather greedily gulping down the bread crumbs and she was having trouble keeping up with its appetite.

“You aren't listening, are you. That thing is like a siren, I'm afraid it is already too late for you, dear sister” James was edging slightly further away from the duck with each word “why, I'll have to inform Cordelia her future parabatai has fallen under the spell of a horrid creature, a terrible beast, an evil-”

“It's a duck, Jamie.”

“Don't speak its name! You may summon more,”

Lucie knew her brother was mostly joking. He didn't really think that ducks were evil but he was genuinely afraid of them. That much was evident by the way that he was placing her between the duck and him, as though he may need to be shielded from such a fluffy, lush looking thing. She was beginning to think that the duck may even let her pet it if only she fed it more. It looked so very tame.

“I think I'll name you Herbert,” She murmured softly at the newly named duck.

It was such a lovely day for this. Such a lovely day for Lucie. The light breeze blowing its way through Hyde Park was revitalizing. The sound of trees rustling softly, water lapping gently on a faraway shore. It was a gorgeous day. Truly lovely. James was even here taking this walk with her. They had even found Herbert, just sitting there happily. A lovely, lovely day.

Lucie wasn't fooling herself. Recently, she hadn’t been feeling great and she really wanted to be very happy today. She wanted to be completely overjoyed that her brother was joking with her like this. That she had found a duck to feed that was so tame.

Here was the unfortunate thing, Lucie was having a hard time fully appreciating this day. She was meeting with Grace later to discuss Jesse, as they did nearly every day. They hadn’t been having too much luck with the necromancy lately and Lucie couldn't help but feel down because of it. There were simply too many intrusive thoughts that try as she might she could not banish.

What if Grace and I never bring him back? What if... He is a ghost forever?

Those were bad thoughts. She didn't like to admit how terribly she missed Jesse sometimes. how many times she'd thought of something to tell him and then felt strangely awful and tired afterwards because she had remembered that it would be hours, sometimes days, before she could next speak to him. It really did not help that he was currently avoiding her. He was a ghost and he was somehow avoiding her. She didn't even know why.

The truth was that Lucie was trying so hard not to let this affect her. Today was beautiful and she would enjoy it, Jesse Blackthorn be damned.

“Alright James, that's it. I'm keeping him,” Lucie put her hands on her hips and stared up at her brother.

“No no no Lucie you know how da feels about ducks! And mam will have a fit when she sees that thing in her house!” James sounded a little bit too rushed, too panicked. As though he was grasping for reasons why Lucie couldn't keep little Herbert.

“I have made up my mind. Herbert is now my duck you cannot convince me otherwise” Lucie knew that she was being stubborn. That was exactly her intention, as James knew to pick his battles wisely when it came to Lucie. Once she set her mind on something near nothing would stop her. She knew this was not a battle he currently had the energy to fight.

“Here Herbert, Herbert. Herbert bach, come here,” she called waving the remains of her bread in front of him. He just sat there, looking innocently at her.

She then proceeded to throw the bread at poor James, who was looking on in horror.

Her advances didn't seem to be alarming Herbert so she tried to pick him up and to her immense surprise, it worked and he did nothing.

James seemed so tired when she looked back at him like all the fight had gone out of him and the jokes had dried up. There had been so much drama lately in his life, with Grace and Cordelia. But then, there had been so much drama in all of her friend’s lives recently. So many demons and so many deaths. The joking may have been a short reprieve; but Lucie thought she mustn’t forget to make sure her brother was doing alright.

She was rather sick and tired of it. She really just wanted her friends to be happy.

It sounded rather contradictory, really, how fed up she was with the danger and how adamantly she searched for it now, if only it meant she could help Jesse. But Jesse was one of her friends. She'd come to trust him and care about him and his well being. He deserved happiness as well. He deserved a life. Or, at the very least, to be put to rest.

She imagined it was not much fun being a ghost and knowing that, although now there were people alive who you know, who you can look after, that one day they will die and you will remain. To know one day you will be alone and you will fade into the background. To dim and dim but never truly disappear. It occurred to Lucie that that was what her mother would have to suffer through, eventually. She was a warlock and therefore immortal. She would remain young forever while her husband and her children aged and died. She would outlive them all.

“James,” she murmured

“What do you think will happen to Jessamine when we die?” Her voice sounded small and worried, like a child seeking reassurance.

He frowned for a moment, considering.

“Hang around our children?”

“What of when they die? When our grandchildren and great-grandchildren die? What of when the Herondale line has been going on for so long they've forgotten her entirely?”

After that James was quiet for a great deal of time.

“What, exactly, is the point of this question?”

“Just a thought.”

After that, they walked home in silence. James never did answer her question.

#lucie herondale #james herondale #chain of gold #tlh #jesse blackthorn

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izcana · 4 years ago

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Tommy and the Newt Pt. 2

Gaston's Proposal (animated & film) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fR_GD6TDa4

***

Thomas strolled home, one hand clasping his basket with bread and the other holding his book. Monsieur Anderson was really too kind.

Janson took this as the perfect chance to flirt. "Morning, Tom, you look gorgeous today!"

Thomas eyed Janson wearily. He's been doing that ever since Thomas knew what courting was. Perhaps before that, too. Janson was never one for formalities or being "proper". He did as he pleased, and strangely, no one seemed to mind him except for Thomas. "Morning to you, too, Monsieur Janson."

Janson waved his hand and winked flirtatiously, which Thomas silently gagged at. "No need for formalities, Sweetheart." He handed Thomas the bundle of colourful flowers. "For you."

"Uhmm...Thank you...And please don't call me 'Sweetheart'" Thomas squirmed uncomfortably and then skipped the next couple of steps to his house, shoving the bundle of flowers back at Janson quickly. Janson followed behind, chasing after the boy. Unfortunately, Janson had tons of practice and he knew how to run. Unfortunately. Though to Thomas' credit, he did manage to avoid Janson for a short while.

"How about I come over for dinner this evening?" He proposed.

"How about...no?" Thomas asked and turned his head away, wincing as if he had just drunk raw lemon juice.

"How did it go?" Leavitt asked eagerly, eyeing the bundle of flowers still in Janson's hands.

Janson grabbed his collar. "I will have Thomas as my husband, no doubt about that!"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Leavitt said, flailing his short legs desperately.

***

"I'm home, Papa!" Thomas yelled, waving the bread at Jorge, his father.

"I can see that, Son," Jorge chuckled heartily, his intense gaze on the trinket on his hand never wavering except for the moment when he looked at his son. He turned his eye and immediately switched to a frustrated scowl.

"Is something wrong?" Thomas asked, pointing at the music box.

"The egg doesn't open," Jorge said. "I think one of the screws got tangled with the wire clog."

Thomas took the music box and hit it against the table. The wooden cover hit the wooden table with a hollow thud and the chick peeked out of the egg. All the elements were painted in careful strokes. Jorge was always so careful with his work, even though he didn't make a lot of money from it. He sold at fairs to the merchant class, mostly. There was not a person in town who didn't know the other, of course, but Jorge Arismendi's name was always said disdainfully and looked down upon, not that Thomas or Jorge cared too much. "There, problem solved."

"Thanks, Tom," Jorge said, smiling at his son. "You really are a miracle."

"It was nothing," Thomas murmured wistfully, thinking of the miracles in the world that he had yet to experience. Thinking of how Jorge used to call Brenda, his mum, a miracle.

"No, it was something, Son," Jorge said, using his large hands to tilt Thomas' head up.

"Papa..." Thomas hesitated. "Do you think I'm odd?"

Jorge scoffed. "My son? Odd? Don't listen to those silly villagers, Tom," He said, firmly. "We just see what they don't."

"More than this provincial life," Thomas echoed.

"Yes."

"When do you have to leave for the fair?" Thomas asked, changing the topic. Jorge went to these fairs monthly, and it was just another one of those things that Thomas was tired of; this same simple routine every day, every month, every year, like clockwork. There was no change to it and Thomas was sick of it, frankly. He had no clue how those people could raise generations in this boring village and call it "quaint and comfortable". Thomas had only lived there for less than a decade, and he was driven crazy. That insane urge to do something new came to him again, like an itch he couldn't scratch, echoing deep in his skull.

"Tomorrow," Jorge said. "I'm all packed," he added, pointing to the bags in the corner.

"Did you make sure to feed Alby and ready his saddle and–––" Alby was their horse. He was a palomino horse with an abnormally dark coat of hair, his mane tossed back and chasing after the wind proudly, just like the rest of him. Alby'd been with them through thick and thin, a loyal and stubborn companion and partner. Jorge and Thomas treated him wonderfully, of course, and it was like they respected him as an equal. He was the only living thing that Thomas loved aside from his papa and his late mother.

"Relax, Mijo," Jorge said, chuckling. "I'm all decked out. You really worry too much about little old me." Nonetheless, he looked sombre. They both knew that Thomas felt like he had to protect his father after he lost his mother, even though it wasn't even remotely close to being his fault. "Do you want anything from the fair?"

Again, like clockwork. Thomas replied the same. "A rose, please," he requested, smiling shyly.

"You always ask for a rose," Jorge comments blandly. He knew why. It was one of the only rare ways that his son could connect with his dead mother. Brenda loved roses; she always had them planted in the garden, in pots around their old house, and she would weave flowers into Thomas' hair and spray on homemade rose perfume. Jorge knew that Brenda was the reason why Thomas loved wearing dresses and they still made rose perfume (not to sell, they wanted it to be a "just family" thing).

"And you always bring it," Thomas counters.

Jorge sighed, resigned. "Alright, I shall bring you back a rose in a little less than a fortnight."

***

Jorge left first thing in the morning. Thomas was awake reading, so thankfully he was awake to bid his father goodbye. "Be careful on the way, Papa!" Thomas cried. "I heard there are wolves in the forest you're crossing, you should –––"

"I know, Mijo," Jorge sighed, exasperated. "I'm bringing two knives with me."

"Okay, thank goodness." Thomas let out a stressed breath. "Bye, Papa." He hugged Jorge fiercely and looked on as Jorge mounted Alby and got him into a brisk walk.

"See you soon, Son!" Jorge called back. Thomas only waved, smiling slightly bitterly.

It was not early enough for most of the villagers to be awake, yet, so Thomas decided that he wanted to keep reading.

There was a knock on the door. Thomas glanced at the clock – it read a quarter past 9. He had missed his shopping time, too intrigued by the book. It didn't really matter, since he had gone yesterday, he still had plenty of vegetables and bread.

No. The thing that was antagonising him was that the only person that would be knocking on the door would be Janson. And Thomas was not in the mood to be "entertained" by Janson. He knew this, why? He had checked every single person that could have been coming. The milkman. No, they had milk delivered every other day, which would be tomorrow. The postman. No, they never got mail. Someone handing the news that Papa had an accident? Thomas checked that one off immediately, trusting Jorge to take care of himself, however fearing all the same.

A cold shiver ran through his spine. It wasn't the latter, was it?

He opened the door, ripping off the band-aid. Thank goodness, Thomas thought. However, there wasn't too much to be thankful for as Janson was still outside his door.

"Good morning, Tom," Janson said suavely. "I am here to propose again. I see you've rejected my last proposal, but I'm sure you'll change your mind..."

Thomas groaned. "No, Janson, we can't be together," he insisted.

Janson loomed in front of Thomas, backing him against the wall, consequently inviting himself into the house. He put his muddy boots on Thomas' book first, and then he kicked off his shoes revealing socks with a hole on the toe. "Can't you just imagine it...my latest kill roasting by the fire, my perfect husband massaging my feet. We'll have dogs and children, 6 or 7 of them!"

Thomas laughed nervously, shrinking close to the fireplace and covering his nose. He made a note to spray some rose perfume in the room after Janson left. "Dogs or children?"

"Both!" Janson announced grandly. "Do you know who that husband will be, Tom?"

"I can't imagine who..." Thomas stuttered, backing towards the door. His plan was to be cornered against the door and push Janson forcefully out of his door. Hopefully, it works.

"You, Tom," Janson said. "We'll have plenty of children, too, all strapping young boys like me."

Doesn't he know how babies are made? Thomas questioned inside his head, deciding not to voice it out, though. The sooner he could get Janson out of his house the better, and he was not wasting time making polite chit-chat to Janson; he already made it clear that they weren't on the best terms with each other. "Janson, I'm not going to marry you!"

"Do you know what happens to beautiful kids like you who aren't married after their fathers die?" Janson questioned. "Think about Katie!" Katie McVoy was the woman living on the streets, begging for food. Katie was less than 10 years older than Thomas and you could tell she was beautiful, once, but she had long traded that beauty for early wrinkles and seemingly permanent bruise-like smudges of shadows underneath her eyelids and weary blue orbs.

"Janson, I won't marry you!" Thomas said and turned the door nob, ducking on cue. Janson went tumbling out and Thomas closed the door swiftly, throwing Janson's boots out while touching as little of the foul-smelling shoe as possible.

***

#newtmas #newtmas beauty and the beast AU #newt x thomas #au #thomas is beauty #newt as beast #the gladers are the furniture #jorge is thomas' father #janson as gaston

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spideybitey18 · 6 years ago

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Just So You Know

Tom Holland Angst

Here it is!! This is a little different to what I usually do so fingers crossed that you guys like it! Please leave any feedback, I would love to hear what you guys think of it!! Happy reading, love you all xx 💖💖

TOM HOLLAND ANGST ONESHOT

Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is like grasping a rose tightly. It’s beautiful and overwhelming but if you hold it tighter it leaves you feeling unbearable pain. The love you have is so strong and overpowering you find yourself succumbing to it, you’re drawn to it as if it was a beautiful shining star in the night sky or if it’s just simply a drug, addictive yet dangerous.

The first time you met Tom was when he was introduced to you as your best friends new boyfriend. She was a bit of player, so the first thing you thought was that this guy, was not going to last long and would simply just be another one of her conquests. Unbeknownst to you, Tom had the power to change your best friends immature ways and he succeeded as the weeks went by. At first you didn’t see much of them, the couple were in what was called their “honeymoon” stage, where everything was just simply pure bliss and they were stuck in their own little bubble of love.

You were happy for her, knowing that Tom was the best thing to ever happen to her. It was such a joy, to watch her face light up at the mention of her boyfriends name, or to hear a small giggle escape her mouth whenever he calls her when she’s with you.

But a small part of you felt a sense of sadness. You couldn’t help but notice the many qualities of Tom over the couple weeks of knowing and forming a friendship with him. He was a perfect example of a gentlemen. He was respectful, took pride in how he looked, he was gentle, kind, loving, appreciative and now you were just rambling. He was everything you wanted and needed in a partner, but unfortunately he belonged to your best friend. If only you met him first, and maybe just maybe, you could’ve had a chance.

Only at this point, you only had a small crush, nothing big or important and something that could be easily brushed away or forgotten about in a matter of weeks. It was only a crush, thats what you thought. But that was definitely not the case.

You couldn’t quite pin point the exact moment, where you realised that your immature school girl crush, was anything but. Every time they cuddled, kissed or did anything that required showing affection around you, your heart throbbed against your rib-cage with a steady rhythm.

You werent allowed to feel this way. It was never meant to happen but you couldn’t help it. Your heart always wants what it wants, and there’s no denying that. It wasn’t fair that he was already taken especially by the person who you hold most dearly to your heart. Your best friend.

Thankfully you managed to keep your feelings under wrapped and well hidden. No one was aware of the love you held for Tom, already having chosen to bury it beneath your skin, making sure it would never escape to see the light of day.

It was a beautiful afternoon and the three of you decided to take a nice evening stroll along the river. Originally it was only going to be the couple, but they insisted you come along, the guilt of leaving you alone weighing heavily on their shoulders. After many protests from you, they both forced you out of the door, with nothing more than a huff from you.

You tried to play it off as you being lazy and not wanting to leave the comfort of your couch, but it was simply wanting to avoid the mishap of being the third wheel and having to watch them cuddle under the orange glow of the sky.

Trailing behind them slowly, hands clasped in front of you, you took in your surroundings appreciating everything that the Earth has to offer. London was beautiful, especially at sunset.

Without realising you caught up with Tom, who was standing gazing upon his girlfriend who was excitedly feeding the ducks down near the water.

You giggled at the sight, watching your best friend throw the stale bread towards the river where all the birds were frolicking and making a mess.

“She’s a dork” you laughed, shaking your head affectionately.

Tom nodded, his gaze falling upon you.

“She really is, isn’t she?” He smiled, a love sick expression forming on his face.

You both held eye contact, your head lightly tilting to the side, you smiled.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You whispered, the excited shrieking of your best friend echoing around the river.

“Have you ever been in love before? Like the kind of love that sweeps you off your feet, o-or the love that consumes your whole body and mind?”

You can tell that Tom is nervous by watching him bite his lower lip, a habit you have soon noticed after the first few weeks of knowing him.

“I- I don’t know” you stutter, caught off guard. “I don’t even know if that kind of love exists”

I’m lying.

“I think i do” He whispers, his shy gaze moving to look over at your best friend. You watch as his eyes soften, and his expression relaxes. He was in love, it was clear as day.

Maybe it was time for you to back away, and to leave for awhile. Maybe it was time to realise that whatever you were feeling was unhealthy and simply was only going to be a fantasy. Tom loved her, he really did even if he didn’t know it yet and you were definitely not going to get in the way of that. You didn’t belong, you were out of place and it was time to finally move on and to close this chapter of your life.

It was for the best.

“I’m going to head back.. if that’s okay” you hesitated, only receiving a nod as a reply. You watched as he was unaffected by your departure keeping his main focus on your best friend, the girl he was utterly and deeply in love with. You slowly walked backwards, taking in the sight of Tom before you. You wanted to remember everything about your first love, how he looked, dressed, smiled and laughed. You wanted to keep this as a distant memory but something to look back on and smile and appreciate every little feeling you had towards him. What you felt was love, a love so overpowering and full filling but your love wasn’t meant to be received by him, it didn’t belong to Tom. It belonged to someone else who would love and cherish you just as much as you would for them. It will be a much more powerful feeling, a love that would definitely sweep you off your feet.

You just had to look in another direction.

Hehe. 💖

#tom holland #angst #tom x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland angst #angsty #tom #holland #unrequited #love #reader x tom holland #reader x tom #imagines #oneshots #spideybitey #spideybitey18 #tom holland fluff #fluff

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mariposalass · 6 years ago

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A Typical Crazy Weekend Morning

Summary: Weekend breakfast on a Sunday morning would’ve been all fine and dandy, if you’re not in Mari’s fam bunch in a chaotic morning rush.

Notes: This is inspired from a prompt request I sent to @husband-of-lucoa for the domestic fluff prompts with a dysfunctional coffee pot. Also, the story is basically what a typical weekend morning is like for me and the fam bunch; spoilers: it is always messy and crazy! The breakfast featured here is called a cornsilog (corned beef, sinangag (garlic fried rice), and itlog (eggs sunny side up)), which is one of many silog breakfast dishes in the Philippines and in Filipino overseas communities all over the world. Words in Italics are meant to represent Marina’s sign language since she can’t talk and is a mute (thanks to that deal with the evil Sea Witch in the past…).

Setting: Mari and co.’s house in Daly City, California; Sunday morning

Tags: breakfast, weekend mornings, chaos ensues, crossovers, self shipping, mild freak outs over little things and non-functional coffee makers

Rays of sunlight hit Mari’s sleepy face one spring morning inside her bedroom. She grouchily tried to get up, but a part of her was too lazy that it had knocked her back to the bed. Nevertheless, she managed to get up after 2 more tries. Her attention then turned to the alarm clock on her bedside as it read 8:45 am. Saturdays and Sundays are the days she doesn’t need to go work, so she has time to relax before Monday calls in for another round of 5 work days. The assistant librarian yawned and stretched as she got out of the bed, after which she took a shower, and got dressed up in the usual outfit of floral camis, cardigans, jeans, and ankle booties. Today was supposed to be a nice day to go out with the weather being bright and with little clouds that could warrant rainfalls, and it is jam-packed with a ton of errands to do in San Francisco with her brother Harry and friend Issa’s wedding drawing closer each week.

As soon as she finished getting makeup and drying up her hair, she then went down the stairs, and headed straight for the kitchen and dining area. But as she was about to make a turn, a knock was heard from the front door, so it took her eyes towards the door and she opened it up to see that a familiar face smiling back at her.

“Oh Marina, hello,” Mari greeted the blond teenager, “I didn’t expect a visit from you today. So what has brought you to come over today?”

Papa has asked me if you might need some help for Harry and Issa’s wedding in July, the otherwise muse but bubbly girl signed to her, So I came over here to help you guys in any way possible.

“Why of course, we do need more help,” she smiled back as she escorted Marina to the house, “We’re heading to San Francisco in a little bit after breakfast. Perhaps you can join us with that.”

I would love to go with you guys, she couldn’t agreed more as she signed the reply.

“Well, I hope you have an empty stomach on hand, because we’re just going to...” Mari’s sentence was cut off abruptly when both girls heard loud noises coming from the kitchen, “make breakfast...”

Perhaps we should check out the kitchen to see what has happened, since the noises came from there, Marina’s face grew more concerned as she signed to her and both continued to hear the kitchen noises.

After an affirmative nod, Mari and Marina rushed to the kitchen where they were greeted by what would have been a war zone to many, but is actually and unfortunately a normal thing to Mari every weekend: Many of Mari’s family and friends were scrambling either to trying to cook or feed the pets, getting something quick to eat, or making a mess of the kitchen, and apparently some weird noises coming from a… kitchen appliance?

Anyway, the pets (Scooby Doo, Marie Torchic, Piplup, Rowlet, & Scorbunny) were fighting for attention and huge shares of food as Ahkmenrah tried to carefully measure the allowable amount of pet food they can eat, Harry & Issa were nearing completion of cooking most of the food (eggs sunny side up, garlic fried rice, and corned beef with onions and potatoes) with Uncle Gru’s Minions causing havoc everywhere, Philip and Kairi ducked away from plates, bowls, and drinking glasses thrown about at random intervals as the Minions kept going crazy and they were trying to get orange juice, water, toasted bread & its accompaniments, and hot chocolate, and Kirby started to moan in hunger while Margo was doing her best to keep him calm down as her sisters Edith and Agnes watched on.

“Poyo...” the sad starving Star Warrior moaned, his little arm holding onto his grumbling stomach.

“Just hang in there, Kirby,” the oldest of the Gru sisters reassured him, “They’re almost done with the food soon.”

“I still don’t get why Kirby is always sad when he’s hungry,” Agnes sighed as she told Edith.

“Beats me, those puffballs must have big appetites for sure,” she remarked, “Have you seen that masked knight friend of his trying to eat that many sweets before?”

“Uh, Harry, Issa. What is going on in here?” Mari asked both brother and future sister-in-law of the chaos engulfing the area before ducking herself and Marina to the floor as some plates crashed onto the wall unannounced.

“What else but the usual, sis: Uncle Gru’s Minions are at it again: throwing plates and bowls, grabbing and dropping random items onto the floor & walls, and hoarding bananas,” the Boy Who Lived began to list down the things of madness verbally to her and Marina as the latter two got up again, “The pets are craving for more food than needed, Kirby suddenly goes hungry and is moaning in pain...”

“And there are some problems with the coffee maker for some reason right now,” Issa added in to what he has said.

“Wait, the coffee maker is having PROBLEMS!!!” Mari gasped in horror when she overheard arguments to where the aforementioned object were located and with her (not biological) uncle Gru, aunt Lucy, and grandfather figure the Doctor all tangled up in there.

“Alright, who’s going to repair that blasted coffee maker right now?” The Doctor groaned in dismay after multiple attempts to start it up properly as normal.

“Not me, Sir Grumps-a-lot!” Gru refuted it, clearly not in a mood to fix anything in a grumpy hungry state, “I’m not going to fix that thing while not having something to eat.”

“Look, gentlemen, please,” Lucy tried to calm the storm brewing, “Right now is not a good time to fight over just a dysfunctional coffee maker on a Sunday morning.”

“You’re going to fix it!” the Doctor told Gru.

“No, you’re going to use that weird technological stick of yours to fix that coffee maker!” the former super villain argued back.

“Okay, okay, what is the situation happening here?” Mari asked the trio as she walked towards them with Marina following behind, uneasy and confused.

Mari, what is going on over there? Marina signed to her out of concern.

“Oh, Mari, hello!” Gru soon noticed her presence, waving back at her and trying to hide the previous emotions he had earlier, “It appears that this coffee maker over here doesn’t want to open to any one of us today. Quite a baffling experience we’re having today”

“In short, you’re suffering from a caffeine withdrawal right now,” the Doctor scuffed a bit, not hiding his annoyed expression, “Sometimes, you pudding brains are really that weird over your obsession with coffee.”

“Oh dear, this is getting nowhere,” Lucy worried as the situation hang on a thread.

“Okay, okay. Let me get this straight: the coffee machine is not able to open and work properly, and now you two are caffeine-deprived and fighting over who’s going to repair it?” Mari quickly recapped the situation for the three, but mostly to the Doctor and Gru.

“Uh...” both men now began to look nervous, staring at each other out of fear, before facing Mari again and meekly squeaked a ‘Yes’ for an answer.

So that could explain that argument earlier? Marina signed in to the two out of concern.

“About that silent girl next to you? Why is she doing here?” Gru asked Mari.

“Marina here is one of many adopted kids of some friends of mine and she decided to drop by today,” she clarified to them, “She is unfortunately mute and can only communicate via sign language and body language.”

“Hmm… I see,” the Doctor mused on the guest, before realizing something, “But then what to do without coffee with the broken coffee pot?”

“I highly doubt Harry can magically fix that thing,” Lucy sighed.

Marina noticed that there are sparks flying from the coffee maker, it looked like it may have to deal with the Minions Mari has told her and her adopted siblings a lot. She nudged Mari to check on the thing with her, and what the assistant librarian saw had her jaws dropped in shock: water was splashed onto the machine and was dripping down towards the sink hole, causing a short circuit in it. Mari recalled that at one point, one of the Minions, Bob had nearly dropped a vase of water onto Harry’s laptop when he tripped on a rug while trying to water the flowers in the backyard and it too would have suffered the same fate as the coffee maker had Harry not cast a time freeze spell to save both the little Minion and the laptop and grabbed the vase immediately before the first drop landed on said laptop.

“Uncle Gru, I think that the Minions didn’t watch where they were throwing water at, and were responsible for the short circuit in this coffee maker,” she brought the damages to her forever relatives and was annoyed that her uncle Gru wasn’t paying attention to the Minions again.

“WHAT?!? They short circuited the coffee maker!?!” he freaked out in horror, before slowly regaining his nerves and began to glare at his Minions in disappointment, “Minions! How are you going to explain yourselves over a coffee maker and a short circuit?”

The Minions were understandably upset at the fact that their boss was mad at them for destroying a kitchen appliance with water splashing from the sink, they were scared that he’ll throw a fit about it if they don’t apologize and admit the truth. They eventually, as a group, mustered the courage and said ‘Sorry, Boss’ in Minonese.

This act warmed Uncle Gru’s usually grump bear heart, and hugged them tightly, he know that he couldn’t stay mad at them for long if they acknowledged their sink water meets coffee maker mishaps and owe them up. Although he did warned them never to play with water near all appliances and forms of technology ever again, and they were more than happy to respect that rule.

“So… Now that is settled, how we are going to do without some coffee?” the Doctor groaned in dismay, now that the coffee maker is down.

“Doctor, you can still fix broken machinery with your Sonic Screwdriver, right?” Mari informed him, “Perhaps, you can do it, but try not to be grouchy about it like earlier so much that got Marina worried.”

“Anything for you and your siblings, Mari,” he happily smirked back as he pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver while Mari and Marina helped in cleaning out the excess and ripping water on the coffee maker and the area it occupies before he began to program the Screwdriver to repair the coffee machine in very little time as possible.

The coffee maker began to roar back to life as it light up again to work as it normally did, everyone’s eyes looking at it in amazement like seeing Santa for the first time. Harry was putting down the dishes of food he and Issa cooked earlier on the dining table when he saw the coffee maker being revived back to working order and asked if it could still work properly again.

The Doctor brought out a mug, filled the machine with ground coffee, and had it to make a regular brew. And just as the fam bunch were expecting the thing to die on them big time, it was working relatively fine again: it did what the Doctor had pressed on and coffee was pouring onto the mug like there was nothing to worry about. He then drank some of the coffee without second thoughts and released a sigh of satisfaction, proving that the coffee maker is restored to its original state.

“Doctor, you’re a mad genius!” Kairi gasped, “Your Screwdriver managed to fix the coffee maker without breaking a sweat.”

“Pardon me?” Philip was still getting used to 21st Century lingo and colloquialisms while he too was stunned by the miraculous repair.

“Yes, yes, I see that you all took notice of it, and that I can appreciate it,” the Doctor slyly bragged a bit as he was about to make some more coffee for the coffee drinkers in the bunch, starting with Gru, “So: What kind of coffee preparation you people would like to have?”

“I’ll go for a cappuccino, Doctor,” Lucy asked him, relieved that the problem has been resolved.

“Espresso please!” Gru chimed in.

“Doctor, you know that I often go for a mocha drink,” Harry informed the Time Lord ahead of time.

“Yes, I know that very well,” he happily noted before he turned to Mari, “So, are you going to get some coffee?”

“Nah, you know well that I’m more of a tea drinker than anything, but today, I’m gunning for some OJ right now,” she replied.

Marina also declined the coffee offer and opted for some hot chocolate instead. As the fam bunch settled in for breakfast, eating and sharing their thoughts & stories, along with sorting out plans for the upcoming July wedding, Mari could take a sigh of relief, knowing that things in her crazy bunch will end well regardless of the messes they get themselves into. Surely, she won’t see everyone trying to be normal and stop the chaos entirely (because every single one of them have different personalities and quirks) any time soon, but one thing is for certain: sometimes, a little bit of chaos on the weekends isn’t that bad at all.

The End

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typhonserpent · 6 years ago

Text

Dancing In The Moonlight

Fandom: Dragon Age 2 Rating: General Genre: Romance Pairing: Fenris/Anders Summary: Cinderella AU. Anders, a poor apostate farmboy living under the tyrannical thumb of his templar stepmother, has his shoe snatched by a passing eagle. The eagle carries the sandal far north, and drops it in front of a rebellious Tevinter prince. Thus begins a journey of romance, betrayal, adventure, and true love.

Notes: HAPPY HOLIDAYS @goatbazaarofdragons I WAS YOUR WINTERSEND SECRET SANTA!!! I’ve been sitting on this puppy for nearly a month hoping it would meet your expectations! I hope I did a good job!

This was for the wintersend event hosted by @fendersassoc

My Writing Tag ✦ Ao3 Link - Please leave me a comment!

Cullen and Alistair were sparring outside the manor when Meredith screeched, “It’s BURNT! You can’t eat it if it’s burnt. Get it out of my sight! Feed it to the pigs you worthless cur!”

They both froze, Alistair’s shield up and Cullen’s wooden sword raised to strike. Both glanced back to the manor to see Anders stumbling out through the kitchen door, a loaf of bread cradled under one arm. Meredith appeared a few seconds later, leaning out the door frame to shout, “Alistair! Come here!”

The pair lowered their training weapons, Alistair left his sword and shield leaned up against the manor wall and headed her way without a word. Anders was already wading through the muck to get to the pig’s pen.

Anders tore off a chunk of bread and tossed it into the feeding trough, summoning a round pink hog from where he had been napping in the sun. Its curly tail wagged as it scarfed down its treat, then looked up expectantly while Anders tore off a second piece.

Coming up behind him, Cullen said, “It doesn’t look burnt to me.”

Anders jumped, swiveling around to meet his step brother. Cullen cocked an eyebrow, then nodded at the loaf in his hand.

“It … she insisted she could smell the burning. I told it was because cake batter had boiled over and the oven was still burning it off but … well you know how she is.”

The smile quickly faded from Cullens’ face. “Yes … unfortunately.”

Anders tore off another chunk of bread and threw it into the trough. The sun shined down on both of them, lighting their blonde manes ablaze and making even Cullen’s dented and mud-caked practice armor glimmer. An eagle screeched overhead, and Cullen covered his eyes to get a look at it.

“Shit.” Cullen whispered.

“Oh no!” Anders dropped the remains of the loaf of bread into the mud, “Is Pounce indoors?”

“You look for Pounce, I’ll check on the chickens.”

They split in opposite directions. Cullen’s boots made loud splats in the muck. Anders took two steps with mud squelching between his toes before he looked down and realized his left foot was bare. Another screech had his eyes on the sky. The eagle was swooping, a blue glint in its eye. It was all he could do to duck, covering his head. In an instant, the eagle sank it’s claws into the mud, and then surged back into the sky with Anders’ sandal in grasped in it’s talons.

He stared back at the bird, jaw agape as he could swear the eagle was looking back at him with glowing blue eyes.

Cullen was already running. “Anders! Are you alright?” He asked as he came to a halt.

“Was that bird possessed?”

“What?”

“I thought I saw ...” He trailed off. It hardly mattered. Demon or not, it had still made off with his sandal and not any of the farm animals. He looked down at his bare foot and sighed, “Rotten bird. These were my last shoes that didn’t have holes in them.”

Cullen half-laughed, half-sighed, and wiped a sheen of sweat off his forehead, “Tell you what, I’m going into town next week to apply for a guard position. While I’m there, I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes.”

Anders ran his fingers through his hair and gathered it into a ponytail. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. If she found out-”

“If Mother asks,” Cullen interrupted, “I’ll tell her I bought them for myself and they were the wrong size.”

The words turned Anders’ blush into a smile. “You’re a good brother, Cullen. Thank you.”

x – X – x

Blood splattered across the sand.

Fenris had to admit to having a bit of a sick fascination with executions, but when he was forced to watch them it was another matter. He was lounging in a comfy chair under a canopy, legs sprawled, head resting in his hand, and wishing he were somewhere other than in the hot sun.

The guard kicked the body, and it rolled off of the executioner’s stage. Unfurling his scroll, he shouted out the next name, and a dwarf was ushered towards the block.

Fenris held up his hand. A halt signal. And at once armor clattered as the guards around him rushed to carry out the order. The dwarf was laid with his neck against the block, and Fenris stood, making his way to the stairs which led to the stage. The executioner had only just placed his foot on the dwarf’s back when one of Fenris’ guards came up and tapped him on the shoulder.

Fenris stepped onto the stage, and held out his hand. “Give me the axe.”

The executioner made a confused grunt. “Y-your highness?”

Fenris yanked the axe out of his hands and pushed his chest to usher him aside. “If Danarius is going to force me to perform his duties I will at least practice my aim while I do so.”

Fenris rose the axe, all the while thinking how angry his father’s adviser would be when he arrived to dinner with his velvet clothes splattered in blood.

Then, a sandal dropped onto the dwarf’s back.

An eagle screeched, and six or so arrows were knocked onto bows. It took Fenris a second to actually tear his eyes away from the sandal, and look up to spy the eagle. A glint of blue shone in its eye as it made a sharp turn, and grew smaller by the second while it fled the scene.

Dumbstruck, he turned back to the sandal on the dwarf’s back, and stared.

“Sire, are you alright?” One of the guards ran forward, and stopped in his tracks when Fenris held up his hand again.

Leaning the axe upright, he knelt, and brought himself down to face the prisoner, “You, dwarf. What is your name?”

The dwarf turned, revealing a crooked nose that suggested he had at some point been punched in the face, “Varric Tethras, your highness. To what do I owe the honor?”

“What charges have brought you here?”

Varric wheezed a laugh, “That’s a story for the ages. How much time do you have?”

Fenris cocked an eyebrow, and waited. After three seconds, Varric took the hint and continued, “Look, you piss off the wrong people while gambling and they wind up thirsty for blood. Nobles pull strings. You know how it is.”

“Yes ...” Fenris hummed.

After another two second of silence, he stood, and thrust the axe back into the executioners hands. “Untie the dwarf and escort him to my office.”

“Y-yes, your highness.” The executioner stammered, and sprang to work.

Fenris picked up the sandal and descended the stairs.

An hour later, Fenris was lounging in his desk chair turning the sandal over in his hands, when there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” He called.

In came Varric, cuffed and escorted by two guards.

“Uncuff him and leave us.” Fenris ordered.

Albeit slowly, the guards obeyed, and shut the door behind them.

Fenris had not taken his eyes of the sandal in his hand the entire time. When they were alone, he finally held it up, and looked to Varric. “Do you recognize this sandal?”

Varric chuckled, “Trust me, if I could take credit for what happened out there, I would.”

“The eagle that dropped it … I’m sure I saw a glimmer in it’s eye. Like a spirit.”

Varric whistled, “A magic bird leaving you a shoe. Doesn’t happen every day. You think it means something?”

“It has to. Or at least, that’s what I’m going to tell people.”

“Pardon?” Varric cocked one eyebrow.

“You said you were a gambler, correct? Tell me, how is your acting?”

x – X – x

Anders was scrubbing the floors when Meredith approached him, her feet making an echoing stomp on the newly polished floor.

“Tell me something,” She said, “Why is it Cullen mentioned you were more concerned with your worthless cat than you were about our own livestock?”

Anders sighed, dunked the scrub brush into the bucket of soapy water, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes while he worked. “Cullen was checking on the chickens, and Pounce means a lot to me. He knows that, so-”

“So you let him take care of your duties when he should have been saving his energy for training.”

He took a deep breath. There wasn’t any arguing with her when she got like this. Setting down the scrub brush, he turned so he was facing her on his knees. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. I want that cat out of the house by tomorrow morning or else I’ll tie it up in a sack and throw it in the river.”

He jumped to his feet, heart in his throat. “You can’t be serious. Father loved Ser Pounce. I can’t-”

“Karl is dead.” Meredith snapped, her lips pursed into a thin line, “I didn’t marry a cat. See to it that that animal is gone or he’ll be fish food by this time tomorrow.”

x – X – x

Fenris knew who was at the door before he even heard the knock. “Come in!” He called without looking away from his wardrobe.

Danarius threw open the doors, robes flapping with the force, his face pinched into a scowl. “What’s this I hear about you going on a quest, Fenris? Why are my guards reporting that you freed a prisoner sentenced to the death penalty?”

Opposite Fenris, Varric was lounging in a chair and reading a scroll twice as long as he was tall. He gave Danarius a small wave.

“Your guards?” Fenris asked, raising one eyebrow, “I appear to have missed the portion of my father’s will that granted you ownership of the castle calvary.”

For a brief second, Danarius’ lower eyelid twitched, and Fenris took immense pleasure in watching it happen. Danarius pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, obviously I didn’t mean it literally. But as Adviser to the Throne it is one of my duties to command the castle guard.”

“Not for much longer.” Fenris yanked a shirt off of its hanger and swiveled, “I am engaged.”

From the look on Danarius’ face, Fenris may as well have said he was turning into a dragon.

“T-to who!?”

“To the owner of this sandal, of course.” Fenris gestured towards the table Varric was sitting by, where the mud-caked sandal sat in defiant opposition to the silk pillow it had been placed on.

Varric tapped a line of the scroll he’d been reading, “There’s no law saying you have to have met your fiance in order to marry them. Hell some cultures encourage that sort of thing.”

“That is … true.” Danarius crossed his arms, glaring daggers at Varric while Fenris folded his shirt and stuffed it into a bag, “But I … doubt the people will trust a prince who bases his marriage off of a dirty shoe.”

“I will be King by the time they object to it.” Fenris continued, “Nevertheless, should they hear about how we met thanks to the blessing of a sacred eagle, I should think they wouldn’t hesitate to rally behind their new leader.”

“Sacred … eagle?”

Varric hopped off his chair and rolled up the scroll, “The bird that dropped that shoe was spirit-possessed. Ask anyone who was there. A couple meeting because a sacred bird stole a maiden’s shoe and carried it miles away to land in front of her true love? It’s a union blessed by the maker himself!”

“Almost storybook, wouldn’t you agree, Danarius?” Slowly, Fenris turned to meet Danairus’ eyes, “Don’t worry. In a matter of days you’ll be able to retire knowing that the kingdom is finally in the hands of its rightful heir.”

Danarius clasped his hands together and took a deep breath. “It’s … a very beautiful notion. However I am … concerned that you may not find your new spouse in time. Do you really have time to scour the globe before your next birthday?”

“Scouring the globe will not be necessary.” Fenris selected a few more shirts from his wardrobe and draped them over his arm, “I already had my tailor analyze the sandal. From the stitching and position of the straps, he swears it must have been made in the Free Marches. I intend to travel south to Kirkwall and send out word from there.”

“No maiden would turn down the chance to appear before a prince.” Varric added, “He’ll have people lining up for miles in no time.”

“Then ...” Danarius continued, “Please consider it my duty to accompany you on this quest.”

Fenris paused in his packing and gave Danarius a hard stare, “That will not be necessary. I am sure your duties here require far more attention.”

“Nonsense!” He scoffed, “I insist. After all, this is the kingdom’s future we’re talking about. No, I will appoint a member of the magisterium to command in my stead so that I may help you on this Maker-sent quest.”

There wasn’t room for another word. Danarius was already out the door, slamming it shut behind him. They remained silent until the sound of his footsteps disappeared.

Varric whistled, “You weren’t kidding about him.”

“Danarius will stop at nothing to take my birthright away from me. If I am not wed by my next birthday, he will convince the Magisterium to allow him to take my place.”

“Nothing like a deadline to light a fire under your ass, huh? What are you going to do if the person who owns that sandal doesn’t want to marry you?”

Fenris hummed while he stuffed his clothes into his bag, “I am hoping it will not come to that. If it does, I hope they will understand my position. As soon as I have been crowned king, they will be free to stay or leave as they please.”

“Well … best of luck, your Highness.”

Fenris gave him a warm smile, “You can call me Fenris, Varric. When this is over I’ll see to it that your crimes are pardoned.”

x– X – x

Two weeks had passed since Meredith’s threat, and Anders had seen to it that Pounce didn’t make an appearance anywhere near the house.

Not that it had been easy.

He was adding the finishing touches to dinner. Sprigs of parsley atop the roast, a splash of cream in Meredith’s tea. He pocketed the cream bottle, then added two sugars.

The tea was delivered to the dining room, in the midst of yet another of Meredith’s lectures. “I just don’t see why you want to waste perfectly good skills with the city guard all things.” She scoffed, not even looking up when Anders set her cup down.

Cullen sighed, “I’m tired of being a Templar, Mother. The lyrium and the constant in-fighting are … exhausting. The guard is a way I can use my abilities while helping people.”

“How is guarding the circle not helping people?”

Anders left the room before Cullen could respond, and with a platter bearing three dishes. He set it in front of Meredith first, then Alistair and Cullen.

“It looks lovely, Anders. Thank you.” Alistair said. Anders managed a baggy-eyed smile in response.

Meredith picked up a fork and prodded at the pile of vegetables. “Are there onions in this? You know I hate onions.”

“No onions.” Anders replied, “Potatoes, celery, peppers, carrots. Garlic and salt for taste.”

Cullen continued even as the plate was set in front of him, “I’m constantly accused of receiving special treatment because you’re my mother. I can’t perform a single duty without someone whispering, ‘oh, he got off easy because the knight-commander is his mother.’ but if I accept hard labor suddenly they’re saying, ‘he must have done something at home to anger mommy’.”

“So ignore them! That’s what I do. Your abilities should speak for themselves.” Meredith replied.

Anders left and returned later with a cake and three plates. “I have to put out the fires in the stove so I’m setting out desert now. If I leave it in the kitchen, it will freeze.”

“Thank you, Anders.” Meredith sneered through clenched teeth, “You are dismissed.”

He couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

He put out the fire in the stove, served his own portion of food on a wood plate (Meredith didn’t permit him to use the silver dishes), tucked a water skin under his shirt, and ducked out through the kitchen door.

Past the pig’s pen and through the cattle field, into the woods and past a series of trees with ribbons tied around them, rested a clearing where Anders still had memories of holding picnics and playing with his father. Now it held only a grave.

They’d buried him under his favorite tree, marked by a gravestone with lovingly carved words.

KARL THEKLA

HUSBAND – FATHER – FRIEND

And behind the grave, in a little alcove at the base of the tree, Anders had set out a bowl of water, a little saucer, and a plate. He’d lined the base of the hole with old blankets, and drove a nail into one wall where he tied a string that led to a homemade harness that wrapped around Ser Pounce’s chest.

He’d tried it without the leash at first, but Pounce had showed up in his room the next night. It was only by pure luck that he’d managed to get the cat back out before Meredith saw. He couldn’t risk that happening again, so here Pounce was. Tied up and no doubt hating Anders for it.

The cat didn’t even look up when he poured cream into the saucer, or filled up his bowl from the water skin, or tore up his portion of the roast into bite-sized chunks and set them on the plate.

“Pounce?” Anders tried, but there was no response. Just the silhouette of the cat curled into a ball inside it’s makeshift shelter.

Anders sat back on his haunches and sighed. His plate was still next to him, a measly serving of roast vegetables that he couldn’t even look at without feeling a pit in his stomach. Why shouldn’t Pounce hate him for this? He didn’t understand that it was for his own good … all he knew was that his master had left him tied up outside with winter fast approaching.

A shadow was being cast by Karl’s tombstone, but that was never where he felt Karl’s presence anyway. When he looked up, he could see a ribbon on one of the branches. Karl had to hold him on his shoulders to tie it up there. The tree had grown with him, and as Anders grew up the ribbon only grew further away.

“What am I supposed to do?” He choked.

He hugged himself, shivering against the cold breeze that swept through the clearing. Holding up shaking hands, he summoned a little fire in his palms. Meredith didn’t permit him to have a staff. This was the most he could do without anything to use as a focus point.

Magic made him feel closer to his father. Even if they had to hide and practice their magic deep in the woods, even if Meredith complained loudly about the indignity of marrying into an apostate family, Anders felt immense joy in casting spells whenever he could. He mended wounds the chickens got from pecking one another and more than once erased the evidence of Cullen and Alistair’s rougher training sessions.

His father used to dance with magic. Oh, how they both loved to dance.

Anders rose, and made his way to the center of the clearing, flame still in hand. Unwrapping his arms from himself, he summoned a flame in the opposite palm.

He danced.

When he moved his arms, it drew shapes in the night air with the fires. His feet stepped to the beat in his head. One-two-three, one-two-three, while his hands drew swirls and waves in the air.

A bush rustled.

He jumped, extinguishing the flames right away. “Pounce?” He whispered, then ran to the far side of the tree. Another fire in his palm had his eyes widening in panic. His worst nightmare come true. The lump he’d mistaken for Pounce’s silhouette was a fold in the blankets. The leash led only to a chewed-through end.

Pounce was gone.

“Maker no.” He breathed, rising to his feet and swiveling towards the tree line.

“Pounce!” He called, summoning a wisp of fire to his palm.

Another shuffle came from the foliage, and Anders darted towards it. “Pounce!”

When he pushed past the bushes, he saw an elf.

The fire in his palm illuminated snowy white hair and dark skin. He was wearing armor unlike any Anders had ever seen, spiked gauntlets and pauldrons custom-cut to fit his body. His arms were bare, revealing swirling tattoos that matched the ones creeping up his neck.

He had an orange tabby in his arms.

“I … apologize.” The elf said, then held out Pounce, “Is this your cat?”

“Pounce!” Anders breathed, extinguishing his spell so he could take the cat. Pounce gave an indignant mrow as he was hugged, “What am I going to do with you?” Letting Pounce settle into a crook in his arms, he nuzzled his fur and stroked his neck.

“I have never seen a leash-trained cat.”

Anders was pulled from his little world by the mystery elf’s words. The elf glanced down at the harness on Pounce’s back.

“Oh, he’s not-” Anders felt his cheeks grow hot, “He doesn’t walk on the leash he’s just … on it. Right now.”

“A bit cold for him, is it not?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine … should be. I hope. He can’t be at home right now, I don’t have … much of a choice.”

The elf tilted his head, summoning to mind the image of a curious bird.

“If … Pounce, was it? If Pounce is in need of a place to stay, I may be able to accommodate. If only for a little while.”

Anders felt a tidal wave over emotions over the span of one second. Relief that this stranger would offer to care for Pounce followed by realization that he didn’t know this person, then fear, suspicion, and guilt.

“I couldn’t ask that of you, we only just met.”

“Well then, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fenris.”

Fenris held out his hand. After shuffling Pounce to be in one arm, Anders accepted his handshake. “Anders. You already know Ser Pounce-a-Lot.”

“Yes. He greeted me during my nighttime stroll and led me to a rather beautiful dance show.”

That made Anders turned a shade of strawberry pink. “Oh you … you saw that?”

“I didn’t mean to spy.”

“It’s not that, I ...” He trailed off. He felt his heart in his throat. Had he seen the magic? Why wasn’t he saying anything about it? Was he biding his time so he could report Anders in the morning? Why not just get it over with now? He’d be thrown in the circle, Meredith would be disgraced, his father’s estate would be sold, and his step brothers would be thrown in the street by this time tomorrow.

“Never have I seen it’s equal.” Fenris continued.

In his panic, Anders had squeezed his eyes shut. When Fenris’ words sank in, he opened them to meet forest green eyes, glistening in the moonlight.

“In Tevinter, magic is a source of power. My father always found it tragic that I was not born a mage. His adviser suggested the use of these.” He removed one of the gauntlets and ran his hand over the tattoos on his arms. They stretched all the way across his hands to the tips of his fingers, “They were the most painful experience of my life. The process burned away my memories. The first thing I remember is being told that my father passed away while I was recovering.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Fenris shrugged, and replaced the gauntlet on his hand. “Apologies. I shouldn’t burden you with my life story. What I wanted to say was … I’ve never seen magic used to create something so beautiful. Would you show me again?”

Anders hadn’t looked away from those eyes, though now he noticed the subtle way in which Fenris’ cheeks had darkened. Was he blushing?

“Well … alright.” He decided aloud.

Going back to the clearing, he set Pounce down next to his dinner. Once he was satisfied that the cat would stay there and eat, he moved to the center of the clearing, and summoned a flame in either hand.

Fenris leaned against a tree, watching Anders’ light dance draw shapes in the night air. Twists and swirls of light, illuminating dust motes so that it looked like the stars had descended to dance with him. Anders could hear the tune in his head. His father’s humming, counting one-two-three one-two-three so his feet would move in time to the rhythm.

He only stopped when his hand was snagged, and the flame extinguished as Fenris pulled him close, their hips flush.

“May I cut in?” Fenris asked.

Fenris dipped him, and Anders let his weight fall onto Fenris’ arms. He realized now, as the muscles in Fenris’ arms bunched to catch him, he must be an accomplished warrior. Fenris took the lead, swinging Anders around and stepping him into a silent waltz. Anders knew the beat even with neither of them saying it. One-two-three, one-two-three. The way Fenris’ armor was built for him allowed for very little space between the two. They could feel one another’s body heat.

Hands on Anders’ hip, Fenris lifted him into the air, and set him back down on his feet. Anders found himself grinning as he was dipped again, fingers interlacing with Fenris’. In one smooth motion, Fenris leaned down and kissed him.

Sighing, Anders gleefully allowed Fenris to capture his lips. Fingers tangled into blonde hair, Anders’ hand cupped Fenris’ cheek. Their lips parted to a hair’s width apart. They could feel one another’s breath.

Then, a dog barked.

It didn’t phase Fenris, but Anders recognized the sound of Alistair’s mabari, followed by shouting. He couldn’t make out words, but the pitch and tone were none other than Meredith’s.

“Oh no.” He breathed, then pushed Fenris off of him, “I have to go!”

Fenris spent a moment dumbstruck, enough time for Anders to push away and start running. As he went, he only barely made out Fenris calling, “Wait, when will I see you again?”

But he couldn’t turn back. He had to keep running. He left Fenris alone in their clearing without another word.

x – X – x

Fenris was laying on his back, with Pounce on his stomach. His eyes drifted in the general direction of the ceiling, but every time he closed them he could see the starry sky that bathed Anders while they had danced. Every so often, he would absentmindedly stroke the cat. Anders cat. The cat with a name as cute as Anders’ little button nose.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He ushered the cat off him, and opened the door to Varric.

During their trip, Danarius had complained loudly about the prison rags Varric was stuck in after his sudden departure from the headman’s block. A representative of the royal family should look the part, after all. Varric seemed to have take the advice, as he stood before Fenris in laced leather pants and matching leather gloves, a red velvet jacket lined with spun gold, and a wool tunic that was just a little too unbuttoned.

“What do you think?” Varric asked, holding his arms out.

Fenris stroked his chin and nodded, “I can see why you managed to rub elbows with nobles.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what kind of people I can rub elbows with, Prince Broody.” Varric winked and nudged his side, “But we’re getting off topic. Adviser Control Freak wanted me to fetch you for the meeting.”

“Best not to let Danarius hear that nickname.” Fenris fetched a cloak off the hook, and then shut the door behind him. He tied it on and tugged the hood up while he walked.

“Trust me, I’ve heard the staff call him worse on a daily basis.”

They both snickered, then quickly fell silent as the left the cabin. Danarius was already in his private carriage at the front, arm resting on the window sill and fingers drumming impatiently. Fenris nodded to him as he passed, then stepped into the carriage behind him. With a mock salute at the adviser, Varric followed suit. Danarius signaled the driver, and the caravan was off.

In their efforts to keep a low profile, they’d rented a cabin in the castle’s shadow where they could easily post as many guards as they wanted. Fenris didn’t see much of a point in it if the entourage was going to announce their presence anyway. Already, common folk walking along the side of the road stopped and gaped at the ornate carriages and warriors on horses which bore saddles in the colors of the Tevinter flag. The city gate opened for them, and villagers stretched their necks out of their windows to catch a look at the procession.

Fenris found himself searching the crowd that was gathering, hoping to catch a head of strawberry blonde hair. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could clearly picture Anders’ face. High cheekbones, whiskey warm eyes, dimples at the edge of his smile. He was sure he could pick him out of the crowd.

“Why your highness, you look positively … glowing.” Varric said, “Something on your mind?”

“I was just looking for someone.”

“Someone special?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I highly doubt you can get a good look at their feet from in here.” Varric said, making Fenris’ ears droop. It suddenly sank in that they were looking for someone specific. Whoever fit the sandal was meant to be his new spouse. Even if he found Anders … what would he say?

He sank back into the carriage, and stayed there until it came to a halt in front of the castle. The driver opened their door to an entourage of guards surrounding a man in green velvet who could only be Kirkwall’s Viscount.

“Prince Fenris of Tevinter!” He shook Fenris’ hand, then turned to Danarius as he stepped out of his carriage, “And you must be Adviser Danarius.”

“I am.” Danarius replied, shaking his hand, “I trust you received our message?”

“I did, but you must be exhausted from your trip. Come inside, we can make arrangements over tea.”

Fenris followed, keeping a close eye on Danarius all the while. A smaller group of guards cut themselves off from the rest of the group and accompanied them, two of them even positioning themselves along the wall while the trio of nobles (and Varric) settled into a sitting room.

“First, I believe introductions are in order.” The Viscount said, “I’m Viscount Marlowe Dumar, this is my captain of the guard, Aveline, and her trainee, Cullen.”

The red-haired guardswoman bowed, and the blonde man behind her scrambled to follow suit.

“A pleasure.” Fenris said, nodding at him, “Has Viscount Dumar told you why we’re here?”

“No, sir.” Aveline replied.

Fenris gestured at Varric, who produced a silk-wrapped package from his jacket pocket. Untying the folds unveiled the sandal, almost as dirty as it was the day he’d found it. Cullen gave a tiny gasp, then stood at attention.

“This sandal was given to me by a spirit-touched eagle. I have taken it as a divine sign that I am to wed whoever it belongs to, even if I have to try it on every foot in the kingdom.”

“Say no more!” The Viscount said, “I’ll send word to the town criers at once. We shall organize a formal ball where you can-”

“That will not be fast enough.”

In complete unison, Danarius and the Viscount gaped at Fenris. “I’m sorry?” Danarius said with a cough.

“A formal meeting would take too much time to organize. Tell the town criers I intend to visit every house myself. If I do not find the sandal’s owner here, I will move on to the next town. I won’t stop until I find them.”

x – X – x

Cullen came home and went directly to the kitchen, where he found Anders doubled over the sink scrubbing out a frying pan.

“Anders!” He called, and Anders turned with a start, revealing a dark half-circle under one eye.

Cullen stopped halfway through the room, covering his mouth.

“Oh, Anders, what did she-”

“It’s fine.” Anders interjected, “My fault. I shouldn’t have snuck out last night. You heard her. That coyote wouldn’t have gotten into the chicken coop if it weren’t for me.”

Anders flinched when Cullen set a hand on his shoulder, head down so that his hair was covering the bruise. “You need to get out of here.” Cullen whispered, “It’s not safe for you.”

“You know it’s not that simple.”

“It might be. I met with the visiting dignitaries today. Once of them is a prince. He’s looking to make a spouse of whoever fits the sandal he found.”

Anders cocked an eyebrow, lips pursed. “Why not a ring? Seems a bit unromantic to use a sandal.”

“It’s your sandal, Anders. Prince Fenris is looking for you.”

That left Anders’ eyes wide as saucers, blood rushing to redden his face. “Prince Fen-” He covered his mouth.

“Yes, so if you just go to him-”

“NO!” His breathing grew heavy.

“Why? I saw the sandal. It’s the same one that eagle made off with, and Prince Fenris even said an eagle dropped it on him.”

Anders made an incoherent squeak. How was he supposed to explain that he couldn’t meet with the prince because he’d spent last night dancing in the woods while the chickens were being slaughtered? Meredith would kill him. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Yes, Anders, why not?” A sly voice hissed from the doorway.

Cullen swiveled to see Meredith, leaning on the door frame with hard eyes glaring daggers at Anders.

“Tell me, Anders,” She repeated, stepping into the room, “Why can’t you meet with your prince?”

“It …” He struggled to find the words, shaking more and more with each agonizing step she took towards him, “Just wouldn’t be proper. I’m not worthy of a prince.”

She snagged his chin, sharp nails digging into his cheeks, forcing him to look at her.

“You’re lying.”

Without warning, she grabbed his neck and slammed his back against the wall. “Mother! Stop it!” Cullen called. Anders’ hands shot to her fingers. He reached for a spell, only to find his mana rapidly draining under her templar abilities.

“Don’t let him fool you!” She spat at Cullen before turning her attention back to Anders, “I found the tracks leading out to your father’s grave and the boot prints there. How long have you been conspiring against me?”

“I … haven’t.” Anders choked, eyes watering.

“Liar! I don’t know what you and that accursed Tevinter prince are planning but you won’t get away with it!”

Fist in his shirt, she dragged him out of the kitchen before Cullen could react further. Anders could barely hear Cullen calling from the bottom of the stairs as he was dragged up to the second, and then third floor, and then was finally thrown into his bedroom at the top of one of the manor towers. He landed ungracefully against the dresser. A throbbing pain in his back would leave another bruise later. Throwing himself to his feet, he barely made it to the door in time to hear the click of the lock from the outside.

x – X – x

Fenris spent the whole of the trip to the cabin with Danarius seething. Not that he had stopped seething all day, but when their search turned fruitless and night had fallen, he grew disturbingly fidgety. Fenris had never been more grateful for the fact that Danarius insisted on a private carriage.

When Fenris stepped outside, there stood Danarius, arms crossed and foot tapping. Fenris did his best to ignore him and retreated immediately to his room, Varric following not far behind him. He was just hanging his cloak on the hook when Danarius threw the door open.

Fenris steeled his face and stared while Danarius spat, “Just what is the meaning behind embarrassing me in front of the Viscount!?”

“Now, Adviser,” Varric said, “There’s not need to be angry-”

“Silence, dwarf! You should have been worm food by now!” He turned back to the dead panned Fenris and jabbed a finger into his chest, “Refusing a noble’s offer for aid, bending down in front of every commoner’s dirty feet, dragging the royal procession into the most disgusting parts of town. Just what in Andraste’s name do you think we are? Immigrants from a savage tribe of foot-worshipers?”

Fenris had his lips pursed tight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before replying, “The time it would take to plan and execute a ball would be ultimately wasted. Even if it managed to attract anyone other than nobility, by the time the party would be held, my birthday will have already passed, meaning-”

“Meaning I would assume control of the kingdom, as it should be!”

Fenris turned to retort, and was immediately struck with a mind blast spell that sent him flying backwards until his back hit the wall opposite the door. Dazed from the attack, he didn’t react to Danarius approaching him until the adviser reached into his shirt’s inner pocket and pulled the sandal out.

“A shame you couldn’t find your love before the accident.” Danarius growled, “I’ll be sure to let the viscount know his town criers should spread word of Prince Fenris’ tragic death.” Fenris looked on in terror as he walked away. Varric, also hit by the spell, was on the ground just two meters away. Fenris jumped to his feet as the door was closing, and reached the doorknob in time to hear the click of the lock.

Danarius pocketed the key and made his way to the cabin’s living room, where one of their guards was standing by the entrance. “Our prince wishes to be left alone after today’s failure. Tell your men they have the night off to explore the town, and don’t return until morning.”

Without question, the guard left, Danarius following close behind him. He waited on the porch until the guard had disappeared. A quick fire spell lit the silk covering the sandal like a torch, and he tossed into a leaf pile beside the house, where the dry autumn leaves quickly caught aflame.

With that, Danarius left.

x- X - x

Anders threw his dresser over and kicked it until. Once, twice, and on the third kick with a loud CRACK one of the boards broke off. Picking it up, he whacked the door knob with all his might. Once, twice, thrice, until the board cracked in his hands. Scoffing, he threw it aside, then pounded on the door.

“HEY!” He screamed, then jiggled and yanked the door knob again, “LET ME OUT!”

His pounding slowed as his arms grew tired, fists red and sore, “ALISTAIR! CULLEN!” He cried, slowly slumping against the door until eventually, he sank completely, defeated hands flopping to his sides.

“… anyone?” He choked.

There was an eagle’s screech outside.

Kicking aside a pile of clothes as he went, Anders ran to the window and leaned outside. Barely visible against the stars, he spied the eagle’s shadow high above him. “Hey!” He shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “You got me into this mess! Your job is to get me out!”

The eagle passed over the full moon, a perfect silhouette with a tiny glimmer at its feet. As it passed above Anders, he watched the glimmer drop from its talons and rapidly fall. Leaning a little further out, he was just barely able to catch the clear crystal.

“That … was not what I expected.”

He ducked back inside. It was a largely raw, unpolished piece of quartz with a flat bottom where it might have once been been stuck atop a staff. His eyes widened with sudden realization. The primary component of a staff … what helped mages focus … was the crystal. He couldn’t exactly use it for melee like he could a staff, but maybe …

Crystal in one hand and opposite hand flat on the door, he focused his mana, and cast a fireball spell which burned a massive hole in the center of the door. The fireball dissipated against the staircase wall, scorching the stone.

Anders made it two steps out the door before he stopped, turned back into his room, and reached under his bed to grab the lone sandal there. After pocketing it, he ran downstairs.

He passed Meredith’s room first, stopped, and tapped the lock with one finger. A layer of ice gathered starting at the doorknob, eventually freezing around the frame. As he turned to continue down the hall, he was met face-to-face with Alistair. Anders froze, clutching the crystal close to his chest, eyes widened.

Alistair’s eyes darted to the crystal, then the door, then back to Anders.

“Go.” Alistair said, jerking his head to the hallway behind him, “Cullen told me everything. I’ll keep her off your trail.”

If there was time for a thank you, or a hug, or any exchange between them, it wasn’t allowed, as Alistair quickly stepped behind him and pushed him further down the hall. Anders didn’t need any more coaxing, and took off in a sprint.

He was intent on running into town, to the castle, and made it to the edge of the property before he stopped at a familiar sight. Pounce padded out of a thicket and stopped in front of him, meeting his eyes. After a second of staring, the cat turned and padded away, making it a few meters before stopping again and looking over his shoulder at Anders.

Unsure of what was possessing him, he followed Pounce.

x - X - x

Varric was kneeling in front of the door, and cursed under his breath when the lock pick broke in his hands. Fenris was pacing from one end of the room to the other. Varric reached into his pocket and produced a second pick. “He sure doesn’t mess around with locks, does he?” Varric grumbled.

A scent made Fenris pause his pacing. Tilting his head up, he sniffed. “Do you smell smoke?”

Varric sniffed the air. “He wouldn’t ...” Looking down, he discovered tendrils of smoke already creeping up under the door.

“Of course he would!” Fenris balled up his fist and punched the wall, “Fasta vaas … I can phase through the walls, but-”

“Phase through, then. Better than burning to a crisp.”

“I’m not leaving you here!”

He made his way to the window and gave it a yank. It was jammed with only a tiny gap, which had been barely enough room for Pounce to squeeze through and escape. It stayed stubbornly stuck. Orange light was cast on the trees outside.

Footsteps outside the door made Varric pause and Fenris turn around. A fist pounded against wood. “Fenris?” Anders’ voice called.

“Anders!” Fenris ran to the door, pressing his palm against it.

“Thank the maker … step away from the door, I’m getting you out.”

Fenris and Varric did as they were told. A black mark formed in the center of the door and quickly spread, burning red in the center. Fenris spent a split second terrified that the fire had reached them until the door burst open and Anders stepped through, his shirt collar tugged up over his mouth. The second the couple laid eyes on each other, they fell into each others arms. Fenris tugged Anders’ shirt away to give him the most passionate, grateful kiss he’d ever had, pulling back only so he could admire the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life. Anders wore a huge smile, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Varric cleared his throat, “Uh, boys? Think we can save that for later?”

Anders had carved a tunnel with ice spells, but it was rapidly melting. Crystal clutched tight in his hand, he led the way back out with bursts of frost extinguishing any fire in their way. They stumbled out gasping, none of them stopping until Anders doubled over coughing with his hand braced against the fence. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Anders?” Fenris asked, patting his back.

“I’m fine,” He gasped, “Too much smoke, that’s all.”

A shadow passed in the corner of Fenris’ eye. Danarius came up behind Anders, and Fenris barely shoved him out of the way in time for an ice spike to lodge into his arm. Fenris cried in pain, clutching the arm, while Danarius approached, staff in hand.

“Why. Won’t. You. DIE?” And with the last punctuated word, he cast a cone of ice spikes which spread out from where he stood, stopped inches away from Fenris by a barrier.

Anders stood, hand out, glaring at Danarius as the ice cracked and fell off of the barrier. “I don’t know who you are.” Anders said, “But you stay away from him.”

“Who I am?” Danarius shouted, “I’m the greatest magister who ever lived! I’m the future king of Tevinter!”

“Hey, future king of Tevinter,” Varric called, drawing a dagger, “Catch.” And with that threw the dagger so that it lodged itself in Danarius’ arm. He staggered, giving Anders the opening to cast mind blast and knock the staff out of his weakened grip. While Anders scrambled to take the staff from him, Fenris stood, and approached Danarius. The markings on his arm activated, turning his hand a ghostly transparent blue. In one smooth motion, he thrust it into Danarius’ chest and hoisted the magister into the air.

“You,” He growled as blood bubbled out of Danarius’ mouth, “Are no king.” And with a sickening crunch, Danarius’ heart was crushed in his hand.

Danarius fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Fenris flicked the blood off his hand, and turned to face Anders.

Anders ran up and embraced him. “Oh Fenris,” Anders breathed, “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“As I am for you, Anders.” Fenris returned the embrace with a tight squeeze, “How did you find me?”

Huffing laugh, Anders pulled back just enough to look at Fenris, “It was Pounce. He led me here.”

With a mrow to announce himself, Pounce rubbed up against Varric’s leg, and Varric gave the cat a scratch on his neck. “Smart cat.” He mused, “Shame about the sandal, though. So much for your Maker-sent fiance.”

“That’s … actually why I’m here.” Reaching into his pocket, Anders produced a familiar shoe. The second half to the one Danarius stole, “I have the other sandal.”

Fenris stared, green eyes wide, mouth agape. It took three seconds for his mouth to tug upwards, and a few giggles escaped while he ran his hand through his hair. “Maker ...” He breathed.

Anders’ cheeks turned bright red, “W-was it wrong? Cullen told me-”

“No, no!” Fenris set his hand on Anders’, covering the sandal, “It’s perfect. It’s meant to be. It’s just not what I was expecting.”

Fenris closed the gap between them for a quick kiss, and Anders’ eyes fluttered shut to bathe in the moment. When they parted, Fenris brushed a lock of hair behind Anders’ ear.

“Anders, I would be honored if you would marry me.”

Smiling, eyes glazed with tears, Anders choked, “Yes! Absolutely.”

“Hey now,” Varric interrupted, nodding at the sandal between them, “Make it official, Prince Broody.”

Taking the sandal from Anders’ hands, Fenris knelt. Anders lifted up one foot, allowing Fenris to remove his shoe and fit the sandal on in its place. It was the perfect fit. When Fenris stood again, they embraced and kissed.

Their wedding was held the following spring. With the threat of Danarius gone, they had more time to plan a proper ceremony. Anders had sent an invitation to his old home, receiving back a letter of congratulations and the news that Meredith had perished while performing her templar duties. Cullen and Alistair attended the wedding, bringing with them several assurances that they were taking good care of the old estate. The kingdom sang praises of the holy couple, brought together in the holiest of ways. Pounce spent the rest of his life in the lap of luxury, free to wander the halls of Fenris and Anders’ castle.

And they all lived happily ever after.

#typhon writes #long post #wintersend 2018 #fenders #fenris #anders #fanfic #fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age 2 #au #cinderella au #things i am incapable of doing:#keeping it short #following canon #writing anything that doesn't end in fluff

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ladyofrosefire · 6 years ago

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The first time Cadi saw the tiefling, he was backed into a corner with two of Utkin’s goons looming over him— one half-orc, one human, both scarred and mean looking. Ordinarily, she gave them as wide a berth as she could. They were the kind of trouble that held neither interest nor profit for her. And Utkin was a slimy, grabby bastard who had an unfortunate habit of taking everything personally. But the thing was that she recognized these two. She’d seen Liza and Dotya sitting together at a table in the Royal Pockets, looking scared, and when she’d asked, they’d named these two.

So.

Cadi steeled herself and crept to the edge of the roof. She braced her boots against the slate tiles. Her rapier made a soft shushing sound as she drew it from its sheath. None of the men looked up.

“Listen,” the tiefling said, reaching out to rest a hand on the human’s shoulder, “I know we got off on the wrong foot, here—”

Steel glinted in the half-orc’s hand.

Cadi lept from the roof.

She came down on top of the man, her rapier sliding just behind his collarbone, through one lung and his heart, and out between two ribs on the other side of his chest. She was on the ground and rolling away, blade still clutched in her blood-slick hand, almost before anyone had noticed what had happened. The half-orc dropped. The human whirled on her.

Cadi looked past him to the tiefling. “Run.”

He found her again two alleys over, holding a deep gash in her side and swearing at the dead man who had cut her. She whipped out a dagger when he approached. He was a darker red than the blood that spilled between her fingers. His eyes and the jewelry on his curling horns were gold. In the darkness, he looked like a demon.

“Hey.”

She kept her knife drawn.

“You’re going to be alright.”

There was a strange reverberation in his voice. Cadi hissed as she felt her skin move. The cut sealed, and the blood ceased to flow.

“Bard, then?” she asked, getting to her feet.

“Galliard,” he swept a bow, pointed teeth flashing in the dying light, “pleased to meet you.”

“Cadi,” she replied. For a moment, she considered telling him to piss off. Then she held out her bloody hand. “Likewise.”

He bought her a meal and a drink, which she accepted. While he was busy flirting with the woman who brought them over, she switched the bowls of stew. If he had tried to give her something, she would know soon enough. Cadi kept her back to the wall and drank her water and ate a hot meal. The last of the tremors left her limbs, and her new companion did not seem to be in any way harmed by his food.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked finally.

They’d been chatting about nothing, words bouncing back and forth between them, but it had all been coming to this, of course.

She shrugged. “I didn’t like them. And you didn’t seem like you deserved what they were going to do to you.”

“Too pretty to die?”

She stole his bread roll.

“So, what,” he snatched about half of it back, “do you just run around saving people?”

Cadi swallowed the mouthful she’d already taken out of it. “If I ran around saving every idiot in the Lower Docks who didn’t deserve to get stabbed, I’d never have time to sleep.”

She came to one of his performances out in the market square. Which was a fancy way of saying she perched on a roof with her cloak wrapped around herself and watched while he danced and sang and people tossed coins to him. She could not count them from where she sat, but it looked like decent coin, and he got to keep his clothes on. He didn’t have to kill anyone, either.

She made sure to catch his attention as she stood. It meant a few others saw her, but that was fine. Cadi curtseyed, turned, ran three paces, and did a flip onto the next roof. Then she took off running, ignoring the angry shouts of guards from below.

Galliard found her at the Royal again, sitting at the same table they had occupied the last time. Without a word, she pushed a cup of ale across to his seat. He joined her but did not sit. She could see the point of his tail flicking back and forth.

“What’d you think of the show?”

“Flashy. Missing something. But very flashy.”

He laughed. It showed the points of his fangs, and the light of the fire flashed off of the jewelry on his horns. Then he held out a hand to her.

Cadi looked at it.

Galliard sighed and beckoned. “C’mon. You’ve danced before, right?”

“A few times.”

She got to her feet and took his hand. The music was shit, but he was the Bard; he didn’t need her to tell him that. And shit music or not, he was an excellent dancer. She just kept her feet moving. It was more complicated than any of the country dances she’d done before, but it made sense. At the end, he spun her out, and she curtseyed. He bowed back. Both of them were grinning.

“Partners?” he asked.

She did not bother pretending to consider first.

Cadi did not have much to pack up. She had a shortbow and arrows, her rapier, two daggers, string, ball bearings, a tarnished silver bell, beeswax candles, a crowbar, a hammer, ten pitons accumulated piecemeal over the last few years, a hooded lantern that had cost her five gold, two flasks of oil, a tinderbox, a waterskin, and her lockpicks. She bought enough food for the next five days, counting out the two gold and five silver with less trepidation than she had expected. A new blanket, one that was warm enough to bother with on the road, was another five pieces of silver. The tent and the coil of heavy rope she stole while Galliard kept the owner of the shop busy.

They stopped for a meal before they left the city. She twirled and smiled and was as charming as she could be until the inn’s patrons let her close enough to slip her hands into their pockets. And all the while, Galliard played. And true, it was less honest than half of her work before, but it felt better.

At least it did until the doors burst open.

She turned, expecting Utkin’s goons, and almost froze at the sight of black coats emblazoned with a symbol that, at this distance, looked like an X. It was a halberd and baton crossed, the symbol of house Sobol.

She grabbed the nearest pitcher and threw it into the center of a knot of particularly rowdy looking travelers. Then she dashed toward Galliard.

“We have to—” he called

“Run!”

“Right behind you.”

Galliard brought his hand down hard on a drum. A ripple rolled out from the point of contact. When it struck the nearest tables, they went flying into the path of the oncoming guards.

They stopped in a small cluster of trees for the night. Their packhorse grazed a yard or two off. Cadi knelt over a tiny flame, carefully feeding it twigs until it grew large enough to start adding branches.

“So, I know why they were after me, but why’d they chase you?” Galliard asked.

She carefully did not glance up. “Who says they were?”

“The guard yelling ‘there she is’.”

Cadi shot him a look. “Smug looks awful on you.” It wasn’t true, exactly, but it was close enough for now. She sat back on her heels with a sigh. “I… may have stabbed Yevgeni Sobol through the hand. He earned it.”

“I took about two hundred gold off of him pretending to sell him magic.” He tapped a horn.

She nodded. That was fair. She’d played the faery princess more than once to get a few extra coins. If he wanted to play demon sorcerer, that was his business. And if The Dishonorable Dickhead wanted to believe that, well. She would just enjoy hearing about it.

Cadi jabbed the fire with a stick and then settled cross-legged by the fire. “I’ll take first watch.”

They fell into a pattern after that. She slept while he was on watch, and vise versa. They traveled during the mornings. In the afternoons and evenings, they practiced dance steps. A week into traveling together, bandits ambushed them at a crossroads. She found their archer before he could put an arrow in Galliard’s throat.

In the next town, they found a seamstress who had bolts of silk on display and left with one more costume and a handful fewer coins than they had arrived with. Cadi counted what remained over and over. It was odd to think that gold could come back in without a body falling.

“Ready when you are!” Galliard called.

Cadi stood and shook out the flowing skirt of her new costume. “Let’s go.”

They made it to Y’ren at the start of summer and took rooms at The Wayward Traveller. The bar was sticky and the tables scarred, but the beds were clean and reasonably comfortable. Cadi went wandering through the streets after they’d had a chance to eat, her knives hidden around her person and her rapier on her hip. She wandered until she found the broader streets of the craftsmen’s district. There were people here, apprentices walking home after work or going to get a drink with a group of friends. This was a brighter city than Os Kvelya, more open.

She should have known the people would be the same.

Cadi saw the group of soldiers coming her way. There were three of them, all human, two men and a young woman hanging off of each other’s shoulders. They weren’t moving like they were on duty, and the way they looked at her said they were not going to just pass by. Cadi ducked down an alley, climbed up onto a crate, and made for the roof. But the rooves here had clay tiles. They broke under her boots. She managed to save herself from crashing to the cobblestones, but not quietly. She rolled sideways as one of the tiles came down after her and smashed to pieces.

“What’s this?” one of the soldiers started, “street rat?”

“Pretty one.” That was the woman’s voice.

Cadi pushed herself to her feet. She wanted to reach for her knives, but these were soldiers. Killing them would get her marked in more cities than this one. And Galliard. She took a slow step back.

“What are you doing out here? I thought all the elves stayed up by the castle?”

“She’s with me.”

Two of the guards whirled around.

Cadi almost sagged with relief. Instead, she made herself pull her hand away from her knife and went up on tiptoes, shifting until she could catch sight of him. He was armed and armored, his crossbow hanging lazily from one hand. She caught his gaze and gave a minute shake of her head. He winked. Then he shifted his weight onto his back heel, almost posing, and tilted his head to one side.

“What do you call three guards who corner one person down an alley?” Galliard brought up the crossbow, a bolt loaded and trained on the man in the center. His voice echoed off the stone walls. “Target practice.”

The guard who had not turned snorted. Then his face screwed up. A rough guffaw forced its way out of his mouth. He collapsed to the ground a moment later, convulsing with hysterical laughter. He swiped at Cadi as she stepped over him, but missed. She darted around his friends before they realized where she was going. Then she was out of the alley and by Galliard’s side.

“That was horrible.”

“Hey!” he leaned the crossbow on his shoulder, “it worked, didn’t it?”

Together, they started running back toward the inn. Cadi could have slipped off into the shadows. She could have quickened her pace and left him far behind her. She did neither.

In the inn that night, Cadi stared at the ceiling and thought. The best way in Elvish to say ‘you’re welcome’ was aon dyled ie-dyledai-ve. No debt is owed.

She had saved his life two times she could point to with confidence. Every other fight was less sure. Less clear-cut. A bolt shot at the exact right moment for them to never know, a dagger thrown, or a spell spoken. And he’d saved her life one time she knew about.

Those guards would have gutted her for sport and left her in the alley, she had no doubt.

So she was one up on lives saved. That should put her ahead, right? But there are all those little fights where she did not know which one of them saved who and— and how could she measure the rest of it? How did she measure not worrying about getting enough to feed herself and not having to let people any closer than she chooses? What value could she place on not getting paid to kill anymore?

Cadi got to her feet and silently padded across the floor to the tiny mirror on the wall. The hollows were gone. And so was the purple-red that had stained both cheeks like the shadows of bruises that refused to fade. She was left with a glimmer of pink and a lighter step. Every day since she got the costume, she had checked, waiting for it to fade back to violet. It hadn’t yet.

No debt is owed.

She returned to the narrow bed and curled up, slipping her hand beneath the pillow to touch the hilt of the knife she kept there.

Maybe not, Cadi allowed, but she had better reasons to stay.

#pictures #the Misfit Toys #Misfit Toys Meme #DND #Cadi Fel #Galliard

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pixie-unger · 7 years ago

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The Raid Part 17.5

Oops! Tumblr seems to have eaten this part. Sorry! Read the whole thing here. @longlivecleo

Jivvaar stood in the room and watched Zira sleeping. It was the third time he had to wake her for dinner. It was past time to admit that he was hurting her some way. He sat on the bed next to her and carefully carded his fingers through her hair. Instead of wearing it up, like a married humie would, she had it down, in braids, like an orc. Her tiny pink ears hidden until he carefully brushed her hair away.

She stirred then, murmuring in her sleep and creeping her fingers over to find him. She pulled her head into his lap and wrapped her arms around his waist without opening her eyes. Jivvaar carefully traced a finger over her eyebrow, “Zira? Can you wake up for me, love?” He watched as she fought to pry her eyes open. “You need to tell me when I’m not taking care of you, not giving you enough time to sleep at night. You don’t have to let me lick you awake in the morning.”

Zira pushed herself groggily upright. “But that is my favourite part of the day!” she grumbled.

Jivvaar chuckled softly, “But if you can’t make it through the day on the amount of sleep you are getting-”

Zira stubbornly shook her head, “It isn’t you. Orcs eat differently than I’m used to. My blood has gotten weak, but Ural and Graal are giving me stuff to eat to fix that.”

Jivvaar frowned, “Zira, you have been eating orc food for months. You have only been sleeping like this since we mated. If I can’t trust you to tell me what you need. When you need me to stop…” He sighed. “One of us has to be responsible for your rest.”

Zira shivvered and pulled away. She turned her back on him and hugged her knees to her chest. “It isn’t you or anything you are doing. I can’t poop. It feels like I have rocks in my guts. That is what is making me tired. Graal and Ural are feeding me prunes and it’s helping, but I just need a little extra sleep to recover. Please believe me, this isn’t anything you did.”

Jivvaar looked at her, “Is that true?”

Zira sat up and glared at him. “If you don’t believe me, talk to your aunt.”

Jivvaar sighed and pulled Zira carefully into his lap. “I love you, Zira. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you. Or make you sick.”

Zira smiled up at him and stretched her neck up so she could kiss his chin. Jivvaar smiled back at her. “Do orcs grow beards?” Zira asked. “I’ve never seen you shave.”

Jivvaar laughed, “Not until we are old.” He thought about that for a moment, “Are you disappointed?”

Zira grinned and shook her head. “Time for supper?”

Jivvaar nodded. “Are you really alright?”

Zira shrugged. “I will be.”

Supper was venison stew. Zira had learned that unless it was a feast day, Orcs didn’t really eat a lot of meat. They ate a lot of stew where meat was the flavouring. And while a more vegetable rich diet seemed like a good thing, it was all cooked: boiled, fried or roasted. It made it easier for the very young or the very old to eat the same food as everyone else but it wasn’t exactly what she was used to. Dinner was served on one big trencher at the center of each table and everyone ripped off a hunk of bread to use as a spoon or would use their knife as a spear to grab what they wanted.

Zira had never actually been stabbed, nor had she seen anyone else stabbed, but it was always a quiet fear in the back of her head.

She and Jivvaar sat at what was arguably the head table, although it was not nearly as formal as when humies organized seating arrangements. She always sat near Ural and Jivvaar always on her other side so that he was never between her and her adopted mother.

Today when she sat down, Gorgo came over and placed a plate of liver and onions and raw carrots in front of her. Zira groaned and muttered, “ugh, liver,” under her breath. When she looked up Jivvaar was staring at her with wide eyed disbelief.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” he demanded.

Zira was immediately ashamed. “I’m sorry. I know how much effort you put into catching that deer and cooking the liver for me. It’s just… it’s kind of chewy. And I’m not used to it.”

Jivvaar shook his head as if to clear it, “What?” he demanded sounding confused.

Zira flinched. “I will eat the liver. I hear it is good for my blood.”

Jivvaar kept staring at her, right up until Graal leaned over and hit him with her spoon. “You are being rude!” she announced. “Leave it be! Humies don’t work the same as us.”

Zira was by now just mortified. She kept her head down and avoided eye contact with everyone as she ate and wanted to hurry off back to her room as soon as was polite. Or at least that was the plan. Jivvaar, who was usually fairly physical at the best of times, spent the whole meal rubbing her back or leaning in to nuzzle her face. Grakk, sitting across the table, was grinning his fool head off.

That made Zira desidely uncomfortable, until she noticed Raj-ak taking advantage of his distraction to steal food out from under his nose. About the time, he switched his empty glass for Grakk’s still full one, Zira had to press her face into Jivvaar’s chest to hide he giggle.

Unfortunately, Jivvaar misinterpreted the shoulder shaking. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concern in his voice.

Zira choked and grinned up at him, “You’re hunting party is ridiculous. You know that, right?”

Jivvaar looked down at her, then across at Grakk, beaming like an idiot, and Raj-ak looking far too innocent to not be guilty of something. “Hmm. Yes, I believe I do know that.”

As it was, Jivvaar waited until after the meal. He waited while Zira drank the mint tea with honey one of the elders had made for her. He managed not to laugh that the mug was so large Zira had to use both hands to lift it.

After food, the tables were stacked along the perimeter of the room for music and dancing. It was a good way to keep in shape over the winter, with handstands and flips being part of orc dancing. Zira tended to stay clear of the festivities. Tonight, she put her hands on Jivvaar’s hips and stretched up so that her lips were at his ear and said, “Can you just carry me to bed?”

With her warm breath in his ear, her breasts rubbing against his chest and her hands holding his waist, his dick was more than ready to bed her right there and then.

With his usual stellar timing, Wolflash beckoned them over. Jivvaar groaned, but scooped up Zira and carried her into the man’s study.

Wolflash raised an eyebrow at the two of them. Ural was already seated by the fire.

Jivvaar came in and sat them in one of the other chairs.

“Zira?” Ural asked. “How will you know if you are pregnant?”

Zira startled and blushed. “I can’t get pregnant, Mother Ural. I was married for five years without even a miscarriage. I am barren.” She swallowed, then looked up to Jivvaar, “I was completely open and honest about that.”

Ural frowned. “How would another human know if she were pregnant, then?”

Zira shrugged. “If she misses two cycles, I guess.”

Ural nodded. “When was your last cycle?”

Zira looked over at Wolflash and blush. She ducked her head and said softly, “I finished the week before we mated. But my cycle has never been regular. I don’t know when it will come again.” Jivvaar traced little circles over her back with her fingers.

Wolflash cleared his throat. “How do you know it was you that was barren and not your hus- your former husband?”

Here Zira pressed her lips tight together and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “He was able to have a child with the scullery maid, Lord Wolflash.” Zira took a couple of deep breaths. She opened her eyes and looked at Ural. “Sayyass told me that we could raise an unwanted chi-”

“There are no unwanted children!” Wolflash said firmly. “Only children who were not born to their families.”

Zira nodded. “Perhaps our child will be born to someone else.” Ural was staring at her. “What?”

The Keeper cleared her throat, “You are matching the symptoms of the orcs who caught pregnant this season.”

Zira frowned. “When humans are pregnant, they are sick in the mornings. I am not. I am just tired.”

Ural nodded slowly, “Morning sickness won’t start until next moon.” Jivvaar’s face lit up like a sunrise. Zira just looked stunned. Oh dear, thought Ural. “Zira?” she asked gently. “Do you want to carry a child?”

The smaller woman started to tremble. “How could I carry to term? I am so much smaller than Jivvaar.”

Now Jivvaar looked panicked. “Would it tear out of her?”

Ural shook her head. “There are half orcs out there, with living human mothers. If Zira is pregnant and if she carries to term the babe will be born small but catch up by adulthood.”

Zira swallowed, “IF I am pregnant and IF I carry to term.”

Ural looked at her adopted daughter and saw her sadness. She crossed the room and pressed her forehead to Zira’s. “You are loved and will be protected no matter what.”

Zira nodded and hugged Ural tight sobbing softly into her shoulder. Jivvaar was at a loss. He stroked Zira’s back and tried to make reassuring sounds. He was not reassured himself.

#The Raid #tumblr hates me #orc boyfriend #orc husband

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itsallavengers · 7 years ago

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Give me something ominous and leave me wanting more

Steve woke up to the sunlight hitting his face through the crack in the blinds.

It was a typical spring morning; the birds were singing, the day was bright, and his room was pleasantly warm. All in all, the beginning of a great day. He rolled over, burying his nose into Peggy’s neck and smiling as she made a little noise in response. “Morning,” he said through his grin, pulling back her hair a little in order to kiss the neck there, “you working today?”

“Mmf, fortunately, no,” she muttered, turning around until they were nose to nose, “you?”

He nodded. “They want me in for a couple of hours to start planning out the new storyline. Should be back before midday, though.”

She nodded, and Steve sat up with a stretch, wincing as his back tweaked a little. God- he was getting older every day, and it showed. With a sigh, he leaned over and gave Mittens a little scritch behind the ear, then slipped off the bed, leaving his wife and cat to lounge lazily on the mattress.

He stopped to open the window as he walked over to his wardrobe, waving at the neighbours out mowing the lawn and then turning to his own rather unkempt garden in distaste. He should really go out and get the grass cut- maybe repaint the fence, too- the thing looked more grey than white now.

“God, Steve, darling, if you care that much, just hire one of the kids down the lane to do it for you,” Peggy called out, her voice muffled from the pillow.

Steve frowned. “I could do it myself for free.”

“But will you?”

He paused, and then sighed as he pulled on his shirt. “Okay- fair point.”

She laughed a little, and Steve turned around, stooping low to press a kiss to her forehead before grabbing the jacket he’d left on the floor the night before. “I’ll be back before you’re even out of bed,” he said, stroking his fingers through her curls and then standing up.

“I feel like that’s a jab at my laziness,” she said, sitting up a little, “I’m rather offended.”

Steve just laughed and blew a kiss at her, before swinging down to grab at his briefcase and hurry out of the door. He jumped down the stairs, stopping to make a quick cup of coffee and put some more food in Mitten’s bowl, and then made his way out of the door.

The walk down to the bus stop was always pleasant, and he picked up a paper on his way, taking his time to chat with Greg, who worked the newsstand. He was talking avidly about the latest action film that had just released about some stereotypical superhero, and Steve nodded along absently, although couldn’t really say he cared much.

Handing Greg the money, he took the paper and then hopped on the bus a few minutes later, sitting down to read it on the way to work. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting- some political bullshit, some celeb scandal, a few mentions of that film Greg had been talking to him about, and then that was pretty much it. In the end, he just put on some music and spent the rest of the journey listening to some quiet jazz. His phone rang, at one point- but it was an unknown number and Steve was constantly being nagged by cold-callers, so he ignored it.

Unfortunately, it seemed this particular caller was pretty set on having a conversation, because the number rang again a few seconds later, and Steve grimaced as he ignored it once more.

Damn scammers, always bugging his phone.

When the bus ground to a halt at the stop, Steve hopped off and then began making his way over to the building where his colleagues had wanted to meet at. It was only a five minute journey, so Steve had a little bit of time to sit in the park and feed the ducks like he did every morning. It was lovely and peaceful, spending his time doing this- Steve had started being able to tell apart each duck that came to him in the morning.

Once again, his phone rang, and Steve huffed in irritation, adamantly turning off the thing before it could annoy him any further. Peggy was always telling him to just change his number, because it seemed every company on earth knew it and wanted to sell him something, but to be honest, he could admit he was far too lazy and a little lacking in tech knowledge to be able to do that. It was fine as it was- mostly.

He smiled as a couple of the neighbourhood kids toddled up to him and asked for some bread to feed the ducks with, and ripped off a chunk for them, popping it in their little hands and then smiling at the mother as she sat down next to him. She returned it, and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when her phone began ringing.

Pulling a face, she took out her phone and answered it. Steve turned away again, throwing out the last few crumbs and then going for his briefcase. He still had a bit of time, but it was always better to arrive late than early.

“I’m sorry- I think you’ve got the wrong person, I’m not Steve Rogers. I’m Al- wait, what?”

Steve felt his head jerk automatically at the mention of his name, frowning over to the woman next to him as she pressed the phone against her ear. Her head suddenly jerked up to meet his, and Steve raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“I- I don’t….” she paused, mouth opening and shutting for a few moments before pulling the phone off her ear for a second. “Uh- are you Steve Rogers?” She asked him quietly.

Steve felt his frown deepen. “Yeah… that’s me,” he said slowly.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and she swallowed. “Uh- I have- there’s someone on the phone. He wants to… talk. To you. Says it’s urgent.”

(Read more, mobile users!)

Steve froze. “What?” He asked dumbly, looking at the cell in her hand.

She jerked the phone toward him, her own face mirroring his. “I don’t know, there’s a guy and he asked to speak to the person sat next to me- said your name was Steve and it was important? I don’t…here,” she thrust the phone into his hand, looking pretty spooked, “look- if this a, a gang thing or something, just leave me out of it, alright, I’m gonna- you can keep the phone,” she said hurriedly, standing up and then turning away rapidly.

Steve called after her, tried to convince her he was just as confused as she was- but she’d grabbed her kids by the arms and pushed them all away before he could even finish, leaving Steve alone on the bench with someone else’s phone in his hand.

He looked down at it for a few seconds, before slowly putting it up to his ear. “This is Steve,” he said in a low voice.

There was silence down the other end, and then a sharp breath of air. “Thank fuck this worked,” was what the man on the other end began with, before laughing a little hysterically, “my God, this is so weird- okay, uh, for starters, do you recognize my voice?”

Steve frowned deeply. He could feel his heartbeat begin to speed up a little, understanding that there was something very strange going on here. “How did you get this number?” He replied, keeping his voice steady.

“It’s very complicated and you wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain, but it involves a lot of trial and error and some Stephen Strange Bullshit,” the man said like that explained something, “now Steve, do you… do you remember me? Tony? Tony Stark, Iron Man, Avenger, your hus- your friend?”

Steve looked around him incredulously, searching for… for something. Was this a joke? How had they known he would be sat next to that woman at that moment? What the fuck was going on? “That’s the superhero, isn’t it?” He said slowly, “the one in the films? Look, can you please tell me what the hell is happening here-”

“What did you say?” The man- Tony Stark, apparently, asked quickly, “what did you- did you say I was in a film?”

“Yes,” Steve snapped irritably, “he’s the fucking character that’s in the… in all those dumb action films everyone loves these days. Listen, I’m hanging up now and I don’t want you to contact me again, this isn’t funny-”

“No, Steve, please wait,” The person on the other end said, sounding desperate, “please… I know this sounds crazy, and I know you’re not going to believe it, but this- this isn’t real, Steve. None of it. This- whatever you think you’re doing, right now, it’s not true. You’re caught up in a dream, in your own subconscious. None of what you’re seeing is real. It’s a coma. It’s your own mind making up a life so that you don’t go insane from-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Steve gasped, brow furrowed deeply, “whatever you’re- just stop, okay. Shut up. Don’t call again.” And he ripped the phone from his ear, dropping it on the floor like it was burning. Deeply unnerved, he stared at the screen on the floor for a few more moments before swallowing heavily and then turning on his heel.

He kept his head down and walked fast. It was probably just some prank. Kids would do all sorts to make themselves famous online. It was just some joke. How the hell they’d got the random woman’s number, or known he was even going to sit next to her at all- that was another matter.

Just keep walking. It was a prank.

He passed a man walking his dog along the lake and smiled tightly on autopilot, hitching his bag up a little higher on his shoulder. A second later, he jumped as he heard the familiar sound of a phone ringing. Behind him, he looked over his shoulder and watched in morbid curiosity as the older man pulled out his phone and answered it, then paused, turning around to stare at Steve in confusion.

“Are you…uh- are you Steve Rogers?” He asked, whilst Steve just gaped and stumbled back a few more steps.

“This isn’t funny,” Steve answered, swallowing sharply, “whatever… whatever this is, it’s not-”

“He says- uh, he wants me to tell you that your favorite color is orange,” the man informed him slowly, reciting the words that the speaker on the other end was saying, “your favorite show is Grey’s anatomy… you’re 35 and your birthday is on-”

“Enough!” Steve snapped, swiping a hand through the air and then backing away again, “enough of this, alright? Leave me alone. I need to get to work.” Without another word, he turned away again, almost running back up the path out of the park and onto the main road.

He turned his head fearfully as he went. Someone was watching him. Someone was following him, and joke or not, he didn’t like that one bit. They were calling-

He passed another person on the street, and then jerked in horror as he heard their phone begin to buzz in their pocket. Then the next person. Then the couple crossing the street next to him- their phones all went off too.

He stopped on the street, determined to find the source of this. Fists clenched by his sides, he turned, glancing into a shop window. On the TV screen, his name stared back at him. The customers in the cafe were looking at it in confusion as it stared through the window at him- his name, big bold white letters, glaring and obvious.

Convinced he must be hallucinating at that point, Steve sucked in a terrified breath and looked down. In his pocket, his turned-off phone felt heavy. He had no idea what was going on- but as far as he knew, CNN didn’t usually change their morning news to nothing else but his name just for a joke.

He must be ill. He needed… he needed to go home.

Looking firmly at the floor and stubbornly ignoring all the ringing that was going on around him, he began speedwalking back the way he came. This was just… he was ill. Must have eaten something funny. The ringing was probably all in his head, he just needed a rest, he’d been a little stressed lately with work, it was all-

you’re caught up in a coma. None of this is real.

The words caught him off-guard, popping into his mind almost randomly, and he blinked a few times in surprise. It was ridiculous. Of course it was, he didn’t even need to think about it. Someone was messing with him. None of this was real. And by that he meant- he meant the phone call, obviously, not his entire life, that much was undoubtedly, absolutely real. He remembered the entirety of it, Goddamn, he remembered his mom and his dad and marrying Peggy and-

Under his feet, there was a sudden tremor, and he frowned as he tried to regain his footing. Around him, everyone else did much the same.

Huh. Earthquake. Hadn’t had one of those in a while.

It seemed the calls had finally stopped, because the next person who walked past him remained blessedly silent, and he breathed out a gust of air he hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding. The next bus was thankfully already at the stop, and he caught it in somewhat of a daze, looking over his shoulder as he went. He’d have to call in sick at some point- apologize for leaving it so late, they’d be angry sure, but they’d understand.

Above him, he noticed the sky had turned a deep, dark gray. A drop of water fell down his collar just as he boarded the bus, and as he sat himself down on the window seat and clutched his bag tight, he looked out of the window with a small frown. It had been lovely only a few minutes ago, but now-

there was a storm brewing.

Ao3 /// Donate to my Ko-fi

#hmmm this is vague but like. Uhhhhh Steve is trapped in his own dream but his reality is beginning to fall apart and if Tony can't convince #him to wake up and realize it's a dream he'll be stuck in a coma forever!!!!#dum dum dummmmmm #stevetony #itsallavengers writes #Anonymous

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