#otherswriting

[trigunwritings]

Because that’s what love is

Summary: Only one bed. But too many bullets.

Rating: Teen

Relationship: GN!Reader/Vash

Written by @blood--hunter

As with with everything in No Man’s Land the inn room is cramped and sweltering. Even with the slowly setting sun, the heat does little to abade. Not until the moons rise will it subside, and then the cold will come thundering in, causing whomever is left out in the desert to find a way to warm themselves in the caustic environment.

But not you. Not tonight.

Tonight you are safe in a little room on the edge of nowhere.

With Vash as a roommate.

Okay, maybe more than a roommate.

Whatever was going on between you two had lasted for several weeks at this point. There was a sort of—a sort of tension? Small touches of the shoulder. A gentelness to the eyes. A warmth to the cheeks that wasn’t caused by the sun.

It was so thick that the others had started to take notice over the past few days.

Roberto would roll his eyes whenever Vash said your name in that special way of his and Meryl tried to ignore in completely. She would stammer and turn her eyes away whenever the two of you got too close.

Wolfwood however ... Wolfwood was another matter.

He had been the one to set up the room accommodations. Everyone had gotten their own... Save for you and Vash.

The two of you were to share a single, tiny bed because of him.

When confronted, Wolfwood had simply hefted his gun higher on his back, cigarette coming dangerously close to falling from his lips as he smiled at you.

“What? You two are together, ain’t’chya?”

The silence that had fallen had been his answer.

“Well ... guess not.” And he had walked away as if he hadn’t blurted out what everyone had been thinking. Your face had been so warm that you thought it might explode—burst into flames even—but you had managed to scramble up the stairs with what was left of your dignity and stumble into the room.

And here you were. Deciding whether or not you should go out to the car and sleep in the back seat like you had been doing for the past several days.

No! You weren’t a child! You would face this like an adult!

You jump. There’s a knock at the door and Vash peeks his head in.

“Hey,” he says, though, with how well you know him, you can sense the tension in his voice, “Heard we were bunking together tonight!”

There’s a forced cheeriness to his voice and you find yourself swallowing at it.

So he’s just as nervous as you.

“Yeah!” Oh god, you sound just like him now, “I figured I could sleep on the floor and-”

“No way! I can sleep on the floor, it’s not a problem.” He waves his hand in front of his face, dropping his bag beside the door. Next, he takes off his red hoodie, hanging it on the little hook beside said door.

The bed itself was small, no way two people could lay on it super comfortably. But neither of you were going to give up easily.

“Here,” you say, “I’ll take a shower and then you can get set up on the bed and—”

“-No!”

“—Then it’ll be fair!”

Vash pouts visibly at you, but you’re already on your way through the door to the bathroom and closing it behind you before he can argue further.

Several minutes pass of you washing yourself, getting cleaned of all the sand and dirt that could pile onto you while on the desert. It takes ages of scrubbing but after a while you can see your natural skin color again and it satisfies you enough to get out of the tub.

Problem. Your stuff and Vash’s stuff were mixed together in his bag. The one by the door.

You could bang your head against a wall. You’d been so quick to get to the bathroom before Vash you hadn’t grabbed a different set of clothes.

Okay. Be an adult about this.

Wrapping the towel securely around yourself you peek your head out of the door.

“Hey Vash can—“

The words get stuck in your throat. Vash is half naked in the bedroom, his shirt gone. You can see where the metal of his arm meets the flesh of his body. There are scars littered across him. Some are so deep and vast they have to be covered with bit of metal. Some almost look like autopsy scars. Some are still raw bullet holes. Had he been taking damage this entire time?

Vash’s head snaps to you, eyes wide and glasses gone.

You both stare at each other for a long time. The silence echoing.

“Can you pass me some clothes?” You finally say, nodding towards the bag.

Vash doesn’t say a word, simply taking the one step towards the bag and digging out some clothes for you. One cannot afford pajamas in the desert, so it’s just another set of day clothes that are relatively clean. You’re grateful when cloth meets your hand and you dive back inside the bathroom, letting the door click shut.

Holy Shit.

You almost vocalize it but Vash could still very well be on the otherside of the door.

You slide down until your butt meets the floor, your elbows resting on your knees.

There should be a miriad of thoughts going through your head. Most of them focused on how absolutely mortifying that situation had been for the both of you.

But instead all you can think of is if Vash has been hiding the bullets from you. Had he been hurt this whole time? Some of those wounds had looked fresh.

Your thoughts swirl for a few minutes more before you become concious of the fact that you should be dressed and out by now. Vash probably thinks you’re hiding from him, that you’re disgusted by him. The thought makes you hop up from the floor and slap your clothes on so quickly you must look like a wreck as you fling open the bathroom door.

“DO YOU NEED A BATH?!”

You cringe. Vash stares at you, now dressed, from the floor. During your time in the bathroom he had made himself a little sleeping spot, several pillows and blankets piled beside the bed.

“Uh,” He scratches at the back of his neck, “Sure?”

Wait. No mention of what you had seen? Was he just going to—

“—Don’t just ignore it!” You squawk in the most undignified tone your voice had ever taken.

Vash chuckles, “Ignore what?” But you can see it in his eyes. There’s a deep sadness behind them that makes the blue just a tiny bit darker.

“...Vash...”

“I think it’s best we move on—”

“—How many?”

“What?”

“How many times have you been shot and not said anything? How many times did you sew yourself back together without anyone noticing?”

The small smile that is ever present on his lips, falls. “Please Vash, just tell me.”

“Too many to count.”

The words hit you like a bullet to the shoulder.

“Oh god—”

Vash holds up a hand, waving it slightly, “But it’s not like I died or anything, really it’s not a—”

“—It is too a big deal! Don’t say it isn’t!”

You should be worried that the others can hear you, your voice thundering through the walls like a clap of lightening, but you can’t, not in this moment. You can see, more than feel, the tears forming at the edge of your periphereal.

And then Vash is there too.

“Hey, c’mon, no need to be worried about a guy like me.”

You manage to speak passed the lump in you throat, “Don’t tell me what to do...” And there it is. You sound like a child stamping their foot instead of a worried friend—or whatever you two were.

Vash uses his thumb to press away the forming tears. “Lets get to bed.”

And that’s how you both find yourselves curled up on the floor together. Neither of you wishes to take the soft mattress from the other so it ends in a stalemate. There is not bumbling this time as you both lay down to sleep, not awkward pauses or stolen glances. The air is thick with something unsaid but neither of you is able to grasp it and bring it down to earth.

In the silence of the night, after your tears have dried but before the cloud of your argument has blown away, Vash turns to you in your sleep.

“I just didn’t want to worry you.”

He presses a piece of hair away from your face so he can see you better in the dim moonlight of the window.

But you would worry anyways, regardless of how much he hid from you.

Because that’s what love is.

[imaginefe]

Naga Saias- like i said, first bit of creative weiting in awhile. I still don’t proofread tho ——— Lyon tired to suppress his wince as you applied the balm to his battered knuckles. He knew he couldn’t blame himself for getting hurt in a battle of all things, but the worry plain on your face made his heart break.

“Is there anywhere else?” You asked. He shook his head.

“I’m alright my dear. Thank you.” He watched as you put the bottle back with the other medical supplies. He’d come so close to being lost to you. But by whatever divine providence he’d survived.

He stared down at his hands. No, not divine. Conventional magic has a limit. It’s typical for a nosebleed to occur if a mage pushes far enough past their limit. It’s draining. Even the skilled General Selena would agree. Lyon had been there. He’d had nothing left. He had a feeling about where that strength had come from.

He shuddered at the thought. How much of that power had he retained? If enough lingered could… could he still be considered completely human?

He was started back to reality, your hand on his arm. He brought his own to rest on it.

“Are you feeling alright though?” You asked.

“I was just thinking. There is no need to worry.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Turning around, you slipped away a trunk at the foot of the bed.

“You know you’re one of the kindest people I know?” You opened the lid, rifling through its contents. “You don’t hesitate to help where you can. And I know that help comes from genuine love.”

Producing a blanket, you came back to him and wrapped it around his shoulders. The fabric was soft against his marred skin. He tried to blink away the tears threatening to spill.

“I won’t lie to you, I know you’ve made mistakes.” This time you went to the closet. “And I know that you’ve seen a lot.”

“But,” you smiled back at him, tossing a couple extra pillows on the bed. “I do think the world is better for having you in it.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Impossible. He’d started a war, intentionally or not. Because of him thousands died. Ephriam and Eirika lost their father. He’d let villains into the highest ranks of Grado’s military, hurting his people, hurting Magvel’s people.

“Why?” He choked out. “What good has come of me?”

You carefully pried his hand from his arm, checking to see if he’d reopened the wound. He hadn’t know he’d been gripping it.

“A lesser man wouldn’t be here Lyon.” He looked up at you. You brushed the hair from his face. “Think about it differently sweetheart. What if someone cruel had been in your place? Someone who didn’t care about anyone but themself.”

He was entranced by your gentle smile, hanging onto every word. “You fought, you resisted, you reduced the damage that could of been done. Because of that you saved lives.”

He couldn’t speak. Even as you wiped away his tears, he failed to come up with an argument one way or another. You guided him down, mindful of the worst of his injuries. He felt safe when you joined him, your arms a comforting weight around his waist.

“I’m happy you’re here sweetheart.” He caught as his mind drifted away.

He… he was beginning to think he could learn to be happy about that too.

[finalfantasyxivwritings]

Thirsty Miqo’te Headcanons

These brought to you by the lovely @lumihime who shared them on my discord server, and I asked to in turn share them here!

Their heat/rut can happen any time of the year, but its most often triggered during the peak of autumn. Many kits have birthdays in spring/summer because of that.

 Every Nuhn will develop a knot at some point in their life. No Miqo'te is born with one--it is something that grows over time due to excessive testosterone production.

 A Tia that has a lot of sex may begin to see a knot of their own form, since their body would essentially go into Nuhn mode.

 Nuhns have a significantly higher sperm count than Tias and tend to release much more cum.

 They refer to heat-induced sex in specific as "breeding".

 A sign of arousal would be to lift one's tail in submission, essentially offering themselves to whomever they're with.

 To them, tail twining is a very intimate act. It is done only with who you love.

 Miqo'te have particularly sensitive ears, and it's often an erogenous zone for them.

 The base of their tail is also quite sensitive. Stroking it can bring them to full arousal in a little under 30 seconds.

 A heat-induced male can go for several rounds before passing out from exhaustion. By rounds, I mean fucking until they cum (not just orgasming from pleasure).

 Miqo'te penises, compared to a Hyur's, are somewhat more "pointed" at the end. They have a noticeable curve to them.

 Both Keepers and Seekers have sharp fangs, but Keeper fangs are longer and they also have a second set of canines.

 Biting during sex is ritualistic for them. It's not considered shameful to be seen with a massive hickey on your neck, as it is a sign of devotion.

 If only one person bites during intercourse, it's usually the case of a Nuhn simply marking his territory on a female in his tribe. But if both bite each other, it has a much more romantic context.

 Seekers like to leave smaller bites scattered around their mate's body, rather than in one spot.

 Keepers will usually hold their bites until they draw blood (but will obviously never go further than that).

 They tend to prefer the mating press position during breeding, but doggystyle is also pretty common.

 Their tails curl tightly when they orgasm.

 They will often hold their bite through their orgasm to "grab on" and keep their partner in place.

 Some females will become so enthralled during their heat that they will begin to lactate.

 Hormonal Tias tend to get much more aggressive towards each other during heat/rut season. A fight happening in the tribe is almost guaranteed.

 They become more affectionate and have less of a filter, but physically, many say their bodies feel much warmer than they normally do.

 The heat will cause an intense, hot, tingling feeling to surge through their bodies--one that makes them feel near-constantly aroused.

[pokemonwritings]

that illegal legendary pokemon AU thing part 2

**DISCLAIMER** This is my version of what this idea looks like, if in doubt, trust @pokemonwritings’s version! Also, I apologize if anyone is ooc!

Previously:

“No!” you say instantly. “No catching! No training! No lawbreaking!”

From behind you, Zacian howls stubbornly.

You look at everyone, horrified at your own situation. Now that everyone knew, it was a weight off your shoulders, but at the same time, it was yet more of a burden. It was a cruel paradox trapping you, and you knew in every fiber in your being that one wrong move from either you or the majestic legendary in your presence would land you as a convict for a crime you never wanted to commit.

You’ve become much more cautious since all of this started happening … oh, you couldn’t remember at this point. Worry and stress have corrupted your memory, and the stretch of time feels like a thousand years.

A question has lingered in the back of your mind the entire time: why?

Why you? What did you do that was so special?

As far as you could tell, nothing in particular, but that didn’t stop Zacian from following you around like a creepy stalker.

You’d hate to admit it, but the tension that’s been building inside you has been starting to get to you. Right now, you really just want to go inside and have a good cry, to let everything out, but you can’t because Hop and Sonia are here, and you need to keep your composure.

A nose pokes at your bag, and you shriek and jump forward. You were so lost in thought that you forgot to pay attention to your surroundings. A low growl follows.

You glance back at the source, and shake your head. “I can’t, okay?! I already told you, I’m not cut out for this!”

Tears prick at your eyes, betraying your true feelings, and you mutter, “I’m going to the bathroom,” before dashing inside.

Instead, you make a beeline for your bedroom, and hug your old Teddiursa plush close to your chest. You know you don’t have long, but you let the tears flow anyway.

Why, why, why? Why you?! You hated every ounce of emotional pain Zacian was putting you through, and you knew it wasn’t on purpose. But how would a Pokémon, legendary or not, understand how human laws work? How would it know or care that being in the same room as you could cause you to be in legal trouble because of its status?

This had to be a nightmare. Or worse, a curse.

(Of course, you imagine, there are some people who would absolutely love to be in your situation. But people are never thrown into situations they want to be in, are they?)

You wipe your face with your sleeve, and clean yourself up a bit before heading outside again. Sonia and Hop are still there, waiting, along with Zacian.

“Took ya long enough,” Hop jokes, cracking a grin. Your response is a strained hum.

Zacian tilts its head at you, accompanying it with a sort of inquisitive howl. You’re not sure how to describe the noise. You pinch yourself as hard as you can and try not to shriek in multiple kinds of pain when you realize it noticeably hurts.

What on earth did you do that was so right in Zacian’s eyes?

[capricious-writes]

Can’t believe I decided “Oh I want to improve my drawing skills,” NOW of all times. I’m still in splints; my dominate hand was already worse off after surgery; all the handwriting and typing for school has been nothing but a bugger - and This. Doesn’t. Help. 

Um... @quilloftheclouds 

I drew Celestine. Then Phoenix. 

I drew Celestine, then tried drawing a more dynamic scene, then realized I should draw Solarin’s portrait first too. Then gave up on the dynamic scene, got tired of drawing for the day, and settled with these two. 

I’m a writer, not a sketch artist. But it’s always been my interest to be able to draw well enough to illustrate my writing, or others writing, or basically draw fanart that doesn’t look like indescribable lines. Yeah ... we’ll see where that goes. I can never get myself to practice drawing like I can writing. 

[trigunwritings]

Blue Period

Summary: You have never seen the sea. You paint it anyways.

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: GN!Reader/Vash

Written by @blood--hunter

Note from author: I know very few things about oil painting

Blue. A rare color, all things considered.

The only thing on Noman’s Land that echoed it was the never ending sky. It stretched as far as the sand until it kissed the horizon and disappeared beyond. The desert was vast—so much so that they named it The Great Sand Ocean in an ironic twist of words.

Your grandmother had told stories of the ocean. The old one, on a planet whose name you scarcely remember from her storied whispers. She had lived there when she was very young, somewhere near the sea before it had dried up and humanity itself was forced to take to the stars. She often whispered in your ear when she grew too frail to get out of bed; about dipping her toes in wet sand, watching seaweed wash up on the shore, of catching fish and finding shells and crabs and a bounty that seemed impossible to visualize.

She was gone now. Along with the last memories of something that often filled your dreams from her old stories of childhood. Sometimes you imagine how it tastes when the tears fall over your cheeks and reach your lips, but that’s only on days when you have the strength to cry.

“—Hey!”

Your thoughts, the ones that tended to drag you down into their dreary depths should you stay in them too long, are suddenly broken.

You have to squint your eyes, smiling at you is Vash, his grin so wide and so big that you it matches the sun.

He is holding onto something in one hand. You raise a brow and, with the slow uncurling of his fingers, he reveals its secret to you.

Small, no longer than his palm, is a tube of oil paint.

It can’t be helped. Your eyes widen. You climb down from the hood of Meryl and Roberto’s truck. The two had decided to trek along the expanse, accompanied by Wolfwood, in order to retrieve parts for the broken down vehicle. With the “Undertaker’s” help they were certain to return unharmed, but it the nearest outpost was still a full day’s travel or more. Vash had volunteered to stay with the truck in order to protect it from bandits and varments alike. You had voted to stay with him.

It gave you time to think. To create.

“Where did you get this? And when?” You snatch it out of his hand, holding it up to the light as if you didn’t have enough already, the midday sun baring down on you.

Vash only smiles conspiratorily. It was your ongoing hunch that whenever you started feeling down, he would provide you with another tube of paint from wherever or however he gets it. This only lended more evidence to your hypothesis.

“Pthalo Blue.”

So far you had red, orange, black, white, and yellow.

You smile to yourself. With this, you could create so much more. Paint, especially oil paint, was hard to come by in the desert outside of large cities. It was simply too difficult to produce for anyone but those with the most double dollars, and there weren’t exactly very painters this far into the open terrain.

Vash’s own smile only brightens. “Well,” He says, something eager in his eyes, “Are you gonna use it?”

Without a word you walk towards your pack, thoughts rolling through your mind like the morning fog. Canvas was another thing hard to come by, but if one knew how to use it correctly, it could be taken a long way. You often make your own canvases; stretching the material over wood, nailing and gluing it down piece by piece.

And unfortunately, being around Vash meant being around danger. And being around danger meant getting your stuff damaged. You had only one fully formed canvas left. You would have to wait until you got into town to make more, but that was a problem for later you.

Right now, you wanted to create.

“Blue...” You hum to yourself, beginning to lay out your supplies. Your palette, your brushes, the small bit of turpentine you have left, and of course your canvas and pencils.

Vash stands over you, watching as you plunk right down in the sand and begin drawing.

The scene doesn’t start with any concrete ideas, but it comes to you slowly.

The ocean takes a vague form as you recall the old stories from your grandmother. You don’t know what it looks like. You can’t imagine that amount of water in one place, just waiting to be swam in like a giant bath, but with all sorts of creatures native to living in the waters.

You can’t drink from the ocean—you remember your grandma telling you that. It’s too salty, like tears. But it’s big and blue, just like the sky.

It takes an hour, maybe two, but the piece comes into focus eventually. A careful sketch of ideas that, to an onlooker, seems like a chaotic mess.

And then you start painting.

Vash watches every stroke of the brush as it carries color across the canvas; some smooth and long, others short and targeted. It takes the better part of a day. The color piles on. Thick on thin.

The ocean forms beneath your brushstrokes.

When the morning sun rises Vash is still asleep, so you slide away from your canvas and settle in the front passenger seat of the car, hoping to get a few hours of shut-eye at least.

. . .

“—Whoa!”

The words wake you with a jolt. You pop your head out the window so you can view your art laid out on the hood of car.

“This is amazing!” Vash beams at you.

You stumble out, sleep deprived and a bit hungry. You hadn’t seen your work in the light of day—hadn’t truly seen it finished.

There it is.

The ocean (or maybe it’s the desert? It is the only thing you know,) lies under the dark sky, stars beaming down from their lofty thrones. Kissing the horizon is the pthalo blue, mixing from light to dark as it sweeps across the space. Walking along a wave’s (or a dune’s?) edge is a red cloaked man. His back is to the viewer, but he leaves footsteps in his wake, his hood up, his journey long.

You blink at it, only when you look at your hands do you realize you are the one who made it. The paint is still there, the blue hiding your nails with how thick it is.

“Is that me?” Vash asks, grinning wide again and pointing to his own face.

You smile back at him, nodding. “Yeah.”

“It’s amazing ... but it’s missing something.”

“Like what?”

And when he tells you, you smile.

When the others come back, supplies and parts in hand, they all view your newest painting with amazement. A second figure now walks beside the first:

Vash is still crossing the vast ocean but beside him is you, your footsteps overlapping as your journey together.

[imaginefe]

Naga Saias- hi I’m -REDACTED- and fluff is easy to imagine and hard to describe. Thank you and good night ——— There was a few things that you learned about Seliph in the last hour or so.

1) He actually can’t keep his hands off of you. 2) He had a bigger sweet tooth than you thought. 3) You should keep your eyes on any cookie dough if you want to have any hope of it reaching the oven.

It was rather odd time to be baking, the sun sinking below the horizon, but after a day of meeting, work, and training it was a nice way to unwind. It was also a nice way to spoil your darling, something you decided on before he finished his obligations. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, he finished before you could surprise him.

You began to feel Seliph’s grip around your waist loosen as you moved away from the bowl, tray in hand. Gently you kicked his shin.

“Sweetheart I love you but I would like there to actually be cookies.” You chided him. Heat rose in his cheeks. He knew that of course, but it was so hard to resist.

“I’m sorry my love. It’s just so good.” You smiled and shook your head. You understood, having snuck a few bites yourself, but so far he’d probably had eaten a small batch at this point.

He let go of you long enough for you to take one tray out and put the next one in. In that time he took one of the cooling cookies from the slowly growing stacks. He did his best to keep crumbs off of you when you were finished handling hot metal. You did notice.

“I’m worried you’re going to make yourself sick.”

“This will be my last then.” Until the smell became too tempting again that was. But, he had a nicer way to sate himself for now.

Luckily for him, it was easy to keep himself close to you while you prepared the next batch. On your side of things, it was hard to focus on making reasonably sized cookies when you had someone determined to kiss you as much as he could. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it, even if you couldn’t reciprocate at that moment.

But you did later, and you made sure to be your own brand of “nuisance” to him. He’d also be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

[imaginefe]

Naga Saias- So, uh this was written at like midnight to 2 am ish and I haven’t looked at it since ———

There was a certain magic to firelight. Strangers and friends cast in the warm orange glow. With sand beneath your feet stretching to the horizon, and the stars its opposite and mirror, a fire makes for your own land.

The heat of the fire can’t compare to the blazing desert sun. Its heat is kinder, if treated with its due respect. Its light less revealing. It makes for good stories and good music.

Joshua couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even when he joined in the singing and merriment, he kept straying to wherever you were. He liked to think of himself charismatic, confident, hard to resist. But when he tried with you, he could barely form a hello.

He couldn’t say that he necessarily fell for you. That sounded too sudden. He’d simply found you interesting at first. It would be better to say that he didn’t realize he was walking down a slope until he noticed the land rising around him.

He stole glances at your lips as you sang along with the reverie. He wondered if they were soft. He’d kissed a fair amount of people before, but what would you be like?

The singing died down as someone produced a violin. Someone got up and went for their packs.

The fire made you look like a dream. He swore your eyes looked as though they glowed. Your hair swayed in the faint night breeze. How would it feel to run his hands through it? The fire crackled with your laughter. How he wished he was the cause of it.

It was too much to take. He couldn’t continue like this. He needed to make a decision, either try or make this thing end.

But Joshua was scared. He didn’t want to loose you, and as much as the distance hurt, he loved the warmth that bloomed in his chest whenever you smiled. He didn’t want to give that up.

He fished a coin from his pocket. The metal was tarnished and worn in his hand. Let Lady Luck be his council then.

Smoothly he caught the coin. He closed his eyes, his head leaning on his closed fist, the weight of the coin biting into his skin. Heads or tails, risk it or have it die.

He’d always found it funny that a lions head was printed on some of Jehanna’s coins. A lion would never be able to stand the dunes, well, nothing bigger than a lizard would really be able to. He hoped that the beast staring back at him wasn’t a fool.

He looked up to find you retreating from the circle, going out into the darkness. Quickly he stood and made to follow.

Away from the group, it was easier to linger on you, less need to pry his eyes and thoughts from you and to something else.

You stood there looking out to the sky. Even with the nights penchant for hiding things, your effortless ability to take his breath away remained. You turned at the sound of his footsteps.

The night’s skill for concealment could not hold against your eyes. With the absence of the fire, the stars sought to loan you their light. Even with the shadows, he could see the gently curve of your smile.

“Hi.” He managed, pitifully he thought. Thankfully you didn’t seem to notice his nerves.

“Hi.” You replied.

“What brings you out here?”

“Just needed a break.”

“Ah, yeah I get it.” He cringed to himself. Always his words failed him. He was thankful you couldn’t see him well.

Music drifted over from the fire. It was light and cheerful.

With a breath, Joshua held out his hand.

He hoped you didn’t catch how his shoulders relaxed when you took it.

This wasn’t a dance that could be learned. It wasn’t the rigid dances required of courts and royalty. It wasn’t the practiced choreography of performers in the street or on a stage. It was only to exist in this one spot and only this one time.

You followed Joshua’s lead, and he yours, thoughtlessly swaying though the music. Twirls and dips improvised when they felt right, but hands never parting.

Your laugh was better than the music, and he found himself laughing right along with you. Parting and rejoining with the rise and fall of the music, speeding up and slowing with the tempo. Stumbling and missing beats and a lighthearted chuckle.

You were smiling, wide and mirthful, when the music stopped. It was still too dark for Joshua to see it completely, but he knew it was there. He was smiling the same as you. You were so close, practically chest to chest.

He was seized by a giddy, fearless thing at that moment. Maybe it was just running high off of movement. He didn’t even think of daying anything, simply closing his eyes and leaning down slowly, offering you the decision.

No matter the skill of the poet or how vivid the dream, nothing can compare to the real thing. The true feeling of your lips would have been impossible to guess and now impossible to forget.

Words couldn’t fail him when he didn’t need them. He poured everything he couldn’t quite say into the kiss, the fear, the hope, the joy. He understood what you wanted to say in turn.

Reluctantly you broke apart for air.

Resting his forehead against yours, Joshua laughed quietly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“As have I.” You replied, cupping his cheek. He could see your smile, from both the stars and the distant fire. “As have I“