Cheeky/Pookums
Merry Christmas, chiba_kun ! Sorry this is so short-- it just kinda happened that way. ^^'' I still wasn't totally sure what to write for you, so I went with silly fluff. :3 And since it's so short, you have two ficlets. Erm... not sure if you like the pairing but... heh. ^^'' Also, I finally got the double LJ cuts to work. Go me. XD
Title: Cheeky
Word Count: 129
Characters: Ike, Soren, Skrimir
Summary: Dumb, dumb kitty...
Slurp.
Everyone watched in horror.
Slurp. Slurp.
Ike’s left eye twitched. Titania hid behind her hands. Ranulf’s jaw dropped. He wouldn’t possibly--
Slurp.
Soren didn’t move. His usual grimace faded, leaving an icy glare reserved for battle. The Elfire tome already in his hands.
Slurp.
The Gallian general was lapping at his cheek. Skrimir nuzzled the edge of the tiny beorc strategist’s jawline. Said strategist opened his tome and chanted.
“Uh, Skrimir? Soren, uh, well he doesn’t like to be, uh, licked. There was this one time I--”
Ike never finished that sentence. Even Gatrie knew to shut up when given that glare. No one commented on spending the extra gold to pay for a new tent or about Skrimir and Ike’s new hair styles, or rather, lack thereof.
Title: Pookums
Word Count: 308
Characters: Zihark/Meg
Summary: more fluff :3
“Pookums”
He remembers cringing the first time he heard her say it. He also remembers the feeling of sheer terror from that encounter. Now, he laughs.
Her tiny smile and the uncomplicated way she has about her have surely grown on him. Her figure isn’t what most men would call alluring but he doesn’t care. She’s perfect. Her round hands and face, the feel of her in his arms. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.
He remembers the first she threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, blade in one hand, the other holding onto his rear. He knew he should blush. He just couldn’t decide if it was because she groped him, rescued him like a princess, and ran the bandit through because he almost attacked her Pookums. He figured it was a combination of the three.
How many years ago had that been? Ten? Time certainly does fly.
He also remembers how proud her father was when he announced that he would marry his daughter. He can’t recall, however, anything about the party afterwards save the hangover. But it wasn’t that bad, because she took care of him-- though not without a lecture about “holding your liquor” and “goodness, don’t you know when to stop, honey?” Watching her worry over him was almost worth the headache.
Now, he sits next to her, stroking the sweat from her face and placing a butterfly kiss on her forehead.
Their infant child cuddles into her mother’s arms and starts to drift off.
“Zihark?” she whispers, careful not to wake the newborn.
“Yes dear?”
“Could you bring me some water, Pookums? I’m a might thirsty,” Meg says. Zihark rises and touches his child’s hand with a finger.
“Sure dear.”
He would never tire of being her Pookums.
Title: Cheeky
Word Count: 129
Characters: Ike, Soren, Skrimir
Summary: Dumb, dumb kitty...
Slurp.
Everyone watched in horror.
Slurp. Slurp.
Ike’s left eye twitched. Titania hid behind her hands. Ranulf’s jaw dropped. He wouldn’t possibly--
Slurp.
Soren didn’t move. His usual grimace faded, leaving an icy glare reserved for battle. The Elfire tome already in his hands.
Slurp.
The Gallian general was lapping at his cheek. Skrimir nuzzled the edge of the tiny beorc strategist’s jawline. Said strategist opened his tome and chanted.
“Uh, Skrimir? Soren, uh, well he doesn’t like to be, uh, licked. There was this one time I--”
Ike never finished that sentence. Even Gatrie knew to shut up when given that glare. No one commented on spending the extra gold to pay for a new tent or about Skrimir and Ike’s new hair styles, or rather, lack thereof.
Title: Pookums
Word Count: 308
Characters: Zihark/Meg
Summary: more fluff :3
“Pookums”
He remembers cringing the first time he heard her say it. He also remembers the feeling of sheer terror from that encounter. Now, he laughs.
Her tiny smile and the uncomplicated way she has about her have surely grown on him. Her figure isn’t what most men would call alluring but he doesn’t care. She’s perfect. Her round hands and face, the feel of her in his arms. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.
He remembers the first she threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, blade in one hand, the other holding onto his rear. He knew he should blush. He just couldn’t decide if it was because she groped him, rescued him like a princess, and ran the bandit through because he almost attacked her Pookums. He figured it was a combination of the three.
How many years ago had that been? Ten? Time certainly does fly.
He also remembers how proud her father was when he announced that he would marry his daughter. He can’t recall, however, anything about the party afterwards save the hangover. But it wasn’t that bad, because she took care of him-- though not without a lecture about “holding your liquor” and “goodness, don’t you know when to stop, honey?” Watching her worry over him was almost worth the headache.
Now, he sits next to her, stroking the sweat from her face and placing a butterfly kiss on her forehead.
Their infant child cuddles into her mother’s arms and starts to drift off.
“Zihark?” she whispers, careful not to wake the newborn.
“Yes dear?”
“Could you bring me some water, Pookums? I’m a might thirsty,” Meg says. Zihark rises and touches his child’s hand with a finger.
“Sure dear.”
He would never tire of being her Pookums.