Tumgik
#and its not in any of the usual spots parcels get chucked when no one is home
blue-lions-baby · 4 years
Text
Operation Confession (Dimitri x F!Reader) [Ch. 2]
ah! i felt like i should specify that this is a f!reader. sorry about that. all of my stories have been f!reader and i (waking up in a cold sweat) realized it would prob be better for me to specify that from now on. i’m so sorry for not putting it earlier! from now on, i will specify if it is f!reader or not.
this has got to be one of the longest fics i have ever written (this chapter alone pushing slightly past 5000 words). i am *so* glad i split it up into different chapters. imagine if this was just one big oneshot oh my g
also, i found some loose inspiration for dimitri’s wardrobe change from be my princess 2′s ivan chernenkov!
okay, that’s about it. sorry for the long intro! now, please enjoy chapter 2!
~*~
“Sylvain...”
“Yeah?”
“Was it truly necessary to tell everyone about my... predicament?”
“I-If I may, Your Highness,” Ashe piped up, “we were already aware of your feelings towards (F/N). You’re not exactly... subtle.”
Everyone-- including Byleth who was grading papers at their desk-- all nodded their head in agreement.
“See?! C’mon, even the Professor noticed the sparks between you two!”
“That’s because they’re Professor Byleth, Sylvain.” Ingrid informed with a sigh.
“Oh yeah. Fair point.”
“Where is (F/N)?” Dimitri queried, not seeing your radiant face among the crowd.
“Well, Mercie and I...” Annette began, her cheeks spreading into a grin. “We pulled a little... prank, on our dear (F/N).”
“A-A prank?”
“Nothing too serious. We just did something that will slow her down.” Mercedes assured sweetly. Sylvain clicked his tongue loudly.
“Don’t worry about her! Remember why we’re all gathered here.”
Murmurs bounced around the attendees; before Dimitri could ask what kind of scheme the redhead roped them into, his loyal retainer announced,
“Your Highness, do you require assistance in confessing to (F/N)?”
Dimitri’s alabaster cheeks were hosed into an assortment of rubies and reds; dismay and horror and dread were all that filled his pretty azure eyes. The veins outlined in his neck and forehead grew sharper and sharper with each uncomfortable squeak that left the prince’s throat.
“Ridiculous. The boar actually has feelings?” Felix spat.
“Yeah. He needs help.” Sylvain answered, ignoring his scowling classmate.
“I-- You-- Sylvain, was this--?”
“My plan? Yeah.”
Dimitri would have killed Sylvain right then and there if it weren’t for the presence of several witnesses.
That didn’t mean he didn’t entertain the idea, though. Sylvain’s cool facade was pierced by the murderously sharp glow in the prince’s eyes.
“Not to worry, Your Highness!” Ashe cheerily interrupted Dimitri’s elaborate scheme of how to grind Sylvain’s kneecaps into a fine powder. “While on our way here, several of us have come up with ideas on how to get you two together!”
“Instead of us all working as one big group, we thought it would be wiser if we split up into smaller groups.” Ingrid mentioned.
“Mercie and I are together of course!” Annette’s eyes glowed excitedly. “After class, we’re gonna stop by the florist to buy (F/N)’s favorite flowers!”
“Why flowers, may I ask?”
“So you can give them to her later tonight!”
“T-Tonight?”
“This is where Ashe and I will lend you our aid.” Dedue stepped forward. “We will help you cook the perfect meal for (F/N).”
“Me? Cook?”
“(F/N) will surely be pleased that you put in the effort to cook her something! No matter the outcome, at least...” Ashe rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“And I suppose this is where we come in.” Ingrid said, motioning to herself, Sylvain, and Felix. “We will be making sure that everything goes smoothly, and will assist each group however way we can.”
“I’ll teach you everything I know when it comes to wooing the ladies.” Sylvain winked.
“I suppose I can serve as the ‘distraction.’ After class, I’ll ask (F/N) to spar with me so that should give you all some time to prepare.” Felix huffed.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind taste-testing the dishes that you prepare... J-Just to make sure (F/N) will like it! We do have similar tastes, so...” Ingrid blushed.
“I myself have devised a way to get you two together,” Byleth stated flatly, “and that starts with a brand new seating chart. I have separated you all into your different squadrons.”
Everyone crowded around the parcel of paper that Byleth spread on the table.
“Dimitri, you sit by (F/N) in the back of the room there. Mercedes and Annette, you sit together towards the front. Ashe, Dedue, in the row beside them. Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix will be sitting in this row, behind Mercedes and Annette. Understood?”
“N-No--”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Good. In your seats, everyone. If my calculations are correct, (F/N) should be coming in any minute now.”
Dimitri watched in plain confusion as everyone scrambled to their new seats. He automatically looked to Dedue for help, but only saw Ashe taking Dimitri’s usual spot beside the Duscur man. The sounds of curses haphazardly strewn about the vicinity along with an unsettling squelching sound echoed closer and closer to the classroom.
“Quickly now. Dimitri, in your seat.”
BANG!!!
The doors of the classroom smashed the stone wall with a thundering clap, rattling the slabs of wood on their hinges. You stumbled in, holding a dripping wet boot with one hand and your collection of study materials hastily bundled together in the other. The tousled blob of tangled tresses on the left side of your head starkly contrasted the sorry attempt of brushing on your right. Little leaves stuck out of the collar of your shirt and brown, crackly twigs pinned themselves onto your skirt.
“Good morning, Ms. (L/N). Turned rather... experimental this morning, have we?”
“P-Professor Byleth!” You bowed deeply, jumping when your books tumbled out of your grasp. “I am so, so sorry for being late! I’ve had the most horrendous morning...”
“Oh? How so?”
“Well, when I woke up, i found my boots filled to the brim with water.” You chucked the boot you were holding towards the door and yanked off the one you were wearing; about a quarter bootful of water came cascading out of the shoe.
“Then my uniform-- which was folded neatly and placed on my desk the night before-- was thrown! Outside! Into some shrubs by my window!” You picked and plucked at the bits of foliage that accessorized your uniform with exasperation.
“And to top it all off, my hairbrush was missing! So I’ve been trying to comb my hair with my fingers, but that’s really hard to do when you’re holding a soggy boot in one hand and books in the other!”
You keeled over, wheezing, while the rest of the Blue Lions slowly turned their gaze to the two smiling girls in the front.
“That is... quite a tale.”
“Professor, I can not make this up. I feel like somebody is targeting me. But why? What could I have possibly done to deserve this?!”
“Nothing, (F/N). You’re right. What you went through was severe.” Byleth glanced down at two specific students sharply. “I will excuse your tardiness for today. Dimitri, please go help your new desk mate. I must start class immediately if we are to stay on schedule.”
“Of course, Professor...”
Oh no... Of all the... Since when did your class get a new seating chart? And why, of all people, were you placed beside Dreamy Dimi Dimitri?! Why was the Goddess punishing you? And for what?! You didn’t do anything! And now he has to see you looking like this for the rest of class? Why was life acting so cruel towards you?
“(F/N)?”
“Ah! D-Dimitri! Yes, hello!”
“Allow me to take your books to our desk.” He muttered politely, refusing to meet your gaze. Unable to say anything else without babbling like an idiot, you bowed gratefully to the prince as he scooped up your notes and books in his arms. Great! You were so disgusting, he couldn’t even look at you! Today was gonna be a long, long day...
Dimitri smoothed out the crinkled notes on your side of the row and his pupils happened upon a little scribble faintly scratched into the corner of the paper. The tips of his gloved fingers grazed the marking subconsciously, his brain not quite registering the ‘D’ drawn in the middle of a heart.
Color flooded your cheeks as you nabbed the paper away from Dimitri’s ‘prying’ eyes.
“Excuse me! I need that!”
“A-Ah. Of course. Forgive me.” Dimitri’s cognitive abilities had completely shut down, his entire being running solely on the etiquette lessons that were drilled into his head as a child.
Minutes ticked by, and Professor Byleth’s voice slowly joined the symphony of background noise. Neither you nor Dimitri processed a single word in class that day-- you huddling yourself into the closest semblance of a ball while Dimitri busied himself counting the specks on the floor in a vain, vain attempt to distract himself from the delightfully crisp apple notes that came from your hair (despite its... frazzled appearance).
The words that did process, however, was Byleth’s resounding ‘Class dismissed’ and you had never been happier to leave a lecture. Without casting a glance at anyone, you shoveled your studies into your arms and sped-walked out the classroom and towards the safe confines of your room to cry yourself to sleep.
But in your rush, a certain paper that was half-wedged between two books spiraled down, down, and further down. Dimitri’s watchful eye and skillful hand caught the piece of paper before it touched the ground and recognized the small, minimalist script as your handwriting. He looked up, eager to hand you your belonging, but...
“Er, Felix, have you seen (F/N)?”
“What? Did you not see her leave the classroom? I didn’t even get a chance to ask her to spar with me...”
“Well, she--” Dimitri choked on his own spit. “F-Felix--”
“What?”
Short, blubbering stammers made up a majority of Dimitri’s vernacular; Felix, growing impatient at the royal’s inability to form coherent thoughts, snapped the paper from Dimitri’s hand and read the contents.
“These are just notes on that battle formation we learned the other day.”
“No, there’s something on the corner up there...”
Felix’s sharp gaze followed Dimitri’s quivering finger.
“... Oh.”
“Fel, what’s up? You’re supposed to be training with (F/N) right now.”
“Sylvain. You take care of this.” Felix slapped the note into the redhead’s chest. “I’ll be by her quarters. When she finally decides to come out, I’ll ask her then.”
Then he was gone.
Sylvain, brows furrowed, unraveled the piece of paper that was so roughly shoved into him; his nose crinkled slightly.
“These are just notes.”
“The top...”
“Huh? What--... Ohhh. I see.” Sylvain’s light, angelic chortle didn’t mesh with the devilish smirk on his lips. “Your Highness, by any chance... Have you got an extra suit on you?”
“Hm? Well, yes, but it’s reserved for very special occasions.”
“Does a date with the girl of your dreams not fit that category?”
“... Allow me to show you where I keep it.”
♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠
Like a sailor heaving up a heavy sail battered by the ocean’s rageful tempest, you slowly hoisted your eyelids open with unimaginable difficulty. It felt like a bag of lead was tied to your eyelashes, keeping your eyes at a constant state of half-opened. You padded the soft, swollen flesh around your eyes and already knew the puffiness was there to stay-- at least for the rest of the day.
Two short knocks peppered your door and you very nearly chucked the closest item in your vicinity at it. You caught yourself, however, and face-planted into your damp pillow.
Two short knocks peppered your door as you sunk your face further into your cushion.
Two short knocks peppered your door as your anguish turned to ire.
Two short knocks--
“WHAT?!”
You had no memory of the actual journey from your bed to your door, but that didn’t matter much to you as you swung it open to face your grievance personified.
You caught Felix mid-knock and would have snapped his wrist if his knuckles dared to make contact with your door.
“What is it.” You croaked disdainfully.
“Wow. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“Shut up. Just leave me alone.”
Your door was caught by your visitor’s firm yet gentle hold.
“Hang on. I... I’m sorry.” Felix swallowed thickly. “Today has been a pretty tough day for you.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Goodbye.”
“So,” Felix interjected, “spar with me.”
“What?”
“Let all your anger out on me. It’s not good to keep it inside.”
“That sounds strange, coming from you.”
“Trust me, it feels stranger saying it.” Felix grimaced. “Just... Please. Spar with me. Don’t let this fester inside you.”
He sounded almost pleadingly. A tiny portion of your heart swelled in gratitude towards the male; you stiffly wedged the door open.
“... Fine.”
The corners of Felix’s lips twitched upwards as you both headed for the training grounds.
♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠
“We got the flowers!” Annette burst into the dining hall, waving the bouquet with glee. Mercedes shortly followed.
“I saw Felix and (F/N) head for the training grounds. He’ll keep her occupied for at least an hour or two.”
“Just enough time to roast a Faerhgus fowl.” Dedue commented, smiling slightly.
“Great! Well, I guess I’ll keep watch, so if you need me...” Sylvain slipped out of the dining hall and leaned his frame by the entrance, smiling and waving at passing females.
“Oh, and remember Your Highness,” a spike of red popped back in, “don’t forget you still need to get changed.”
“Got it. Thank you, Sylvain.”
“(F/N) and I were on kitchen duty last week, and she mentioned she loves (Favorite Soup)! We can cook that as well.” Ashe’s eyes shone brightly.
“I can bake some sweets!” Mercedes chimed in.
“E-Everyone, I’m afraid my skills in the kitchen are... less than spectacular. I’m afraid I will only hinder your progress...” Dimitri took a hesitant step out of the kitchen as he watched his classmates get to work.
“Nonsense, Your Highness.” Dedue reassured as he picked out a fowl. “We will guide you. May you please wash and cut the potatoes?”
“O-Of course!” Dimitri dunked a handful of the starchy tubers into a bowl of cool water and made sure no speck of impurity remained on its surface. With Ashe’s saint-like patience and Dedue’s constant monitoring, the royal succeeded in cutting the lumpy veggie into nice, even cubes.
“Great job, Your Highness! Now, can you peel the carrots while I prepare the soup?”
“With pleasure, Ashe.”
Dimitri took the small blade in his hand and carefully skinned the carrots’ rough exterior away, revealing the healthy shade of orange underneath. Dimitri’s confidence grew with each slightly whittled but clean carrot he handed to Ashe and Dedue, and he was silently celebrating the fact that he hadn’t--
... Crack!
All eyes flashed to the source of the sound.
Dimitri stared at the large, compromising splinter running down the length of the knife’s wooden handle; he looked up slowly.
“Er... Is there, perhaps, another one that I can use?”
“A-Actually Your Highness,” Ashe laughed awkwardly, gently taking the ruined blade from his hand and leading him to the bowl of soup, “can you watch the soup and make sure it doesn’t burn or anything?”
“Y-Yes... Um, I apologize for--”
“Do not worry, Your Highness.” Dedue’s monotone voice rang clearly. “It was an accident.”
“Yes, but now the kitchen staff has one less knife to work with...”
“A problem that we can fix the next time we go to town.” Ingrid assured, finally breaking from her food-induced stupor. The savory scents of roasted duck interwove with the hearty notes of (Favorite Soup), creating a mouthwatering song that entranced the gourmand; the delicate, feathery hint of sweets that Mercedes was concocting complemented the deep, earthy tones set by the three males.
“Would you like some, Ingrid?” Mercedes queried sweetly, holding up a small assortment of freshly baked goods. “I know how patiently you’ve been waiting for a sample.”
Ingrid almost lunged at the plate in the cleric’s hand.
“Y-Yes. Thank you, Mercedes. I am excited to taste your sweets.” Ingrid proceeded to not-so-graciously inhale half of the plate’s colorful contents.
“Ah! Ingrid, that was for everyone!”
“Oh!” Ingrid, mouth half-full with sweets, slammed the plate down on the table. “I-I am so sorry! I just, I got super excited and--”
“It is quite all right, Ingrid.” Dimitri replied, his eyes not leaving the softly boiling pot of liquid for a second.
“Please do not look so upset, Ingrid. I can always bake more!” Mercedes gave the aspiring blonde knight a light squeeze. “When we’re done, I can bake you a whole tray of sweets!”
“That would be lovely.” Ingrid smiled, still slightly chewing. “Thank you, Mercedes.”
“Ah, Ashe, it’s boiling quite a lot now. I think the soup is done.”
“Not yet! I haven’t added any seasoning.” Ashe hummed thoughtfully. “Actually... Would you like to add them, Your Highness?”
“I believe a sense of taste would be necessary to accomplish such a task... I, unfortunately, have none.”
“Ah, well,” Ashe looked at the row of spices neatly spread out, “you can still try though! Ingrid can taste test the dish, and she can tell you what you need to add.”
“I suppose that can work... Ingrid--”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
Dimitri and Ashe almost jumped at the closeness of her voice. Turning around, they saw the lass mere inches away from them with a childlike glow in her eyes.
“Ingrid, how did you--”
“I heard I was taste testing, so I came as soon as I could.”
The prince and archer shared glances with each other before the latter was called to assist Dedue. With a quick bow and a ‘good luck,’ Dimitri was left all alone save for a bubbling pot of soup and an overly-enthusiastic assistant.
“I think it would be wise for me to have a taste now so we can see what we still need to add.” Reported Ingrid dutifully.
“Ah, establishing a baseline. That’s a great idea.” Dimitri stepped out of the foodie’s way.
Ingrid grabbed a ladle and scooped a humble amount in its trough before pouring it into a small bowl. Her lips caught the edge of the bowl and she slurped its contents. She hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip.
“It’s all right, but painfully average... We need more of everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Its flavors need to be boosted drastically. It’s not bland, just... underwhelming.”
“I see...” Dimitri cast a nervous glance at the row of spices. “I’m assuming these are the seasonings used to flavor the dish?”
“That is correct!” Piped Ashe from the oven.
“Let’s see here...” His hands danced over the vessels of flavor hesitantly. A bottle of fine, onyx-colored powder caught his eye and he checked the label-- black pepper. He popped open the cap and tapped a careful amount in. Ingrid stirred the pot and poured some more soup in her bowl.
“Mm, that added some much-needed flavor. Try salt this time.”
Dimitri gingerly set the pepper down and scoured the row of spices for the condiment. After he found the small bottle tucked away in the back, he unscrewed the lid and sprinkled in some salt.
“Add more. I can barely taste a difference.” Ingrid critiqued.
Dimitri did as he was told and sprinkled in some more, unsure of the intensity of the granulated whites.
“More, Your Highness. You can be a bit liberal with the salt here.”
“Got it.” Dimitri tilted the bottle and gently tapped its side.
Only for half of the bottle’s contents to fall in.
Dimitri blankly stared at the visible pile of salt floating on the surface of the soup, slowly disintegrating as it drifted further and further down to the bottom of the pot.
Then he was tossed into the five stages of grief all at once-- Ingrid riding that emotionally tumultuous ride with him.
“Your Highness!”
“Ashe!”
“W-What?! What happened?!”
“The salt!” The blondes screamed in terror.
“S-Salt?! What do you--” Then he saw the bottle of salt, previously filled to the brim, staring back at him half-empty. Without a moment to lose, he broke through the two and beelined for the pot. He seized the ladle, scooped up its murky contents, and gave it a large swig.
His eyes shot open in horror and his face paled several sheets of white. He dropped the ladle, wetting the surrounding area with the toxic liquid, and stumbled back onto the counter. Gripping his pants until his knuckles turned as pasty as his cheeks, he forced down the soup with a gag.
“Water...” He flung himself onto the mortified prince, his eyes tearing up. “Water...!!!”
“I got you, Ashe!” Ingrid came swooping in with a cup of the aqua panacea; the archer snagged the cup from Ingrid and chugged it all, not letting a single drop go to waste.
“What happened?” Dedue finally arrived, his head absolutely spinning from the pandemonium that ensued from across the kitchen. Mercedes came running as well, almost dropping the tray of freshly baked desserts from her hands.
“W-Well, His Highness--”
“It’s all my fault,” Dimitri stepped forward, head hung low, “I was only trying to add a little bit more salt, but then I ended up pouring half the bottle. Then Ashe went to taste it, and, well...”
All eyes went to Ashe, who was still recovering from that whole... experience.
“It,” he sputtered,”it tastes like sea water.”
“Ashe, I am so, so sorry. Is there any way I can make this up to you?”
“Get out of my kitchen I-It’s all right, Your Highness... But um... I really don’t think we can serve this to (F/N). It tastes... unpleasant. Very unpleasant.”
“I understand...” Dimitri sighed, forlornly looking at the pot of failure. “Curses! I’m sure (F/N) would have loved it, if only I--”
“Your Highness. There is no need to linger on what has come to pass. We can still cook up a wonderful meal.” Dedue’s even voice steadied the prince. “We do not have much time left. Let us make haste.”
It was all hands on-deck from thereon. While Ashe was temporarily out of commission, the rest of the Lions present did everything in their power to compensate for lost time and dish. As Dimitri busied himself with dicing and rinsing vegetables for a simple salad, everyone else was bouncing around ideas that could possibly substitute the soup.
“I was in town the other day, and I heard one of the merchants talk about this pastry called ‘garlic bread.’“ Annette remarked.
“‘Garlic bread?’“ The Duscur man repeated questioningly.
“Yeah! From what I remember it sounds very easy to make, and we seem to have all the ingredients.”
“And those are?”
“Hmm... Adrestian Butter, bread, powdered Gautier Cheese, powdered garlic, and dried parsley.”
As Annette recounted the recipe to the best of her abilities, Ashe wobbled back to the kitchen with a few of Mercedes’ samples popped in his mouth.
“If you need an extra hand, I’d be happy to help!” He turned to the healer. “And Mercedes, these taste absolutely delightful! Eating them makes me feel all re-energized.”
“I’m always happy to help!” She smiled sweetly, dunking and scrubbing away the dirt on some pots and pans. Dimitri’s eyes widened.
“Ashe, are you certain you’re okay? I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard...”
“I’ll be fine, Your Highness! And besides, Mercedes’ sweets completely washed away the taste of your soup! ... Er, no offense.”
“None taken.”
“... And then we just pop them in the oven, and wait until the edges turn brown.”
“How convenient.” Dedue’s mouth turned up slightly. “I’m sure (F/N) and His Highness will like these.”
“They look quite scrumptious in there...” Ingrid licked her lips greedily. “Hopefully they don’t take too long... Hey, has anyone seen Sylvain? Last I heard he was on guard duty, but he could have run off with some girl at any time.”
“I’m still here,” called a voice from outside, “Ingrid, your lack of faith in me stings! Do you really think I’d be that calloused towards His Highness’s cause?”
“Yes.” Ingrid answered plainly.
“Yowch. That hurt.” Sylvain grimaced. “By the way Your Highness, we--”
. . .
“Sylvain?”
“You guys!” Sylvain came tumbling in, hysteria marring his smug features. “They’re coming!”
An unintelligible gurgle of surprise left the Lions’ throats and they drove to plate and add last minute details to their dishes. Dedue whipped out the duck and Ingrid the garlic bread, followed by a whole parade line of baked treats brought out by Annette and Ashe. Poor Mercedes, finishing up the last spoon in the sudsy basin, was suddenly bombarded with every plate, bowl, utensil, and pan in the kitchen-- not to mention The Pot of Poison. Dimitri set the wooden bowl that carried his salad on the table and he was instantly teleported away to a secluded section outside the dining hall. Sylvain carefully pulled out Dimitri’s finely decorated suit from under a brush, swatting away the little pebbles and specks of dirt that happened upon the fabric.
“It’s a good thing I kept the suit here. Imagine us running back to your quarters to change.”
“Thank you for thinking ahead, Sylvain.” Dimitri’s eyes flitted about him nervously. “I feel rather embarrassed changing out here in the open though...”
“We’re running out of time, Your Highness! Don’t worry, I’ll, uh, cover you.”
Dimitri shot him a grateful look and threw off his cape, which Sylvain caught and held up in a weak attempt to cover his friend. Dimitri chucked off his gloves and shimmied out of his boots; he then lifted the hem of his shirt past his neck and made quick work of his pants, shuffling and kicking the fabric away from him.
“Oh Goddess, they’re coming down this way! Quick, hide!”
“What?! Where?!”
“Uhh...!!!” Dimitri and Sylvain looked to and fro, their heart rate and cortisol levels reaching new heights. Behind the tree? No, the tree is hardly thick enough to cover the prince. The brush? Nah, it’s too small for a full grown man. No, no, he can’t run to the other side of the building, everyone will see his... parts. Sylvain pushed the bewildered Dimitri onto his knees, threw the tarp over him, and sat squarely on his back.
“Sylvain--?!”
“Hey hey hey, Fel and (Your Nickname)! Sooo, how was training?”
“Ah, well, y’know,” you answered back weakly, “tough.”
“Ah-hah! I see, I see!”
“Sylvain... What are you sitting on?” Felix’s eyes rested severely on the... quivering? quivering why was it quivering lump holding the male up. Sylvain looked down, then up, then down, then up, and chuckled nervously.
“Oh, y’know! It’s uh... It’s uh, a rock.”
“... A rock?”
“Yeah! Good ol’ rock here. Conveniently shaped too, y’know.” He patted something that felt a bit too round to just be Dimitri’s back; the two men quietly let out screams of the damned and Sylvain made a mental note to burn his hand off later.
“Huh... It does look quite comfy.” You mumbled, eyeing the spot where Sylvain just patted.
Please don’t sit here please don’t sit here please don’t sit here plea--
“Would you mind if I sat down for a bit?”
“Not at all.” Sylvain answered automatically, winking. It was in that moment that he truly regretted his playboy tendencies, and actually seriously considered change for a split second.  
“Great!” You skipped (more like limped) over to the silently screaming male(s). With a huff from you, Dimitri promptly felt something soft nestle into his rump; a portion of his soul disconnected from the mortal plane, never to be seen again.
“This... rock... feels kinda...” You shuffled in your ‘seat’ a bit. “soft.”
“A-A rock?! Soft?! Ha ha ha, don’t be silly, (F/N)!”
“And... This looks like Dimitri’s cape, does it not?”
“W-Why in the world would I have His Highness’s cape?”
“Well, that’s true... But, why would you put a piece of cloth on a rock like this?”
Sylvain just stopped working.
A good five seconds of silence ensued before the male finally found his tongue.
“Why wouldn’t you put a piece of cloth on a rock?”
“Well, if it’s an attempt to make the rock more comfortable, wouldn’t it make more sense to just... sit on the grass instead?”
“I mean, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spread a blanket on a rock for my own personal comfort, right?”
The throbbing in your head only worsened as you tried to comprehend this man’s logic.
“Um... sure.” You stood up. “I’m gonna go freshen myself up a bit before I head to dinner. See you later, Sylvain.”
“Y-Yeah! Of course! Catch ya later!”
Sylvain waved you and the very confused Felix goodbye and eagerly watched you leave. After making sure that you two left and no one else was nearby, Sylvain slowly leaned over.
“Your Highness--”
Dimitri shot up like a man reborn, shocking the redhead off him and wheezing for air.
“I couldn’t... B-Breathe...”
“Sorry about that, Your Highness...” Sylvain accidentally made eye contact with The Hand and he immediately gagged. “Let’s not... talk about what happened here. Ever.”
“Agreed.”
Both men sighed deeply.
“Well, you heard her. She’s gonna freshen up a bit before she goes to dinner so there’s no rush now. ... Well, you’d still probably like to rush a bit, since you’re currently in your briefs.”
“Thanks, Sylvain.” Dimitri grumbled, slipping his achy legs into the high-quality fabric and buttoning up his shirt. He readjusted the crooked pins and small medals that adorned his breast and smoothed away any wrinkles.
“You’re lookin’ snazzy, Your Highness.” Sylvain chuckled. “Now we just gotta fix up your hair a bit.”
“My hair? It looks fine though, does it not?”
“Yeah, sure, it looks fine but that’s about it. C’mon, think about it! You wear the exact same hairstyle day in and day out. We gotta give it more of a ‘wow’ factor.” Sylvain’s brows furrowed deeply as he studied Dimitri’s face closely. “... Y’know, this might just work.”
“Huh? S-Sylvain, what are you--?”
“Trust me, Your Highness. (F/N)’s gonna love it!”
With a quick swipe of his hand, Sylvain flipped Dimitri’s bangs onto one side of his face. Sylvain took a step back and crossed his arms, satisfied.
“Woo, now that’s a prince!” Sylvain whistled.
“D-Do I really look... princely?”
“Always have, buddy.” Sylvain threw an arm around Dimitri’s shoulder. “But right now? The princeliest of princes.”
Dimitri’s eyes crinkled happily and he bowed deeply to his dear friend.
“I thank you, Sylvain. From the bottom of my heart... thank you.”
“H-Hey now.” Sylvain laughed, cheeks reddening. “No need for all that! I’m just doing what I can to help you with this. You deserve to be happy, Deems.”
Dimitri smiled in response and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Ready, Your Highness?”
“Ready.”
29 notes · View notes
terryboot · 4 years
Text
Coincidentally 2 different packages i had on order were due to be delivered today and both have been marked as delivered in the tracker except for the life if me i can only find one 😠
0 notes