mariana. | Karl Jacobs x oc one shots

king of the daisies

   He bites down in the chicken sandwich I made for us earlier. A trail of mayonnaise is left behind on the corner of his mouth. I giggle and hand him a tissue paper. "Thank you," he says and wipes his mouth with it.

   I pluck some daisies that are scattered across the flower field. I pinch tiny holes in the stem of the daisy and stick another daisy's stem through it. I do that a couple more times until I've made a daisy crown and put it on Karl's head. He smiles and gulps down his Monster Energy.

   "I hereby call you the king of the daisies," I say corny. He can't help it but to grow dimples in his cheeks and wrinkles around his eyes.

   "Can I call you my queen then," he asks just as cheesy as I do and finishes his sandwich. I don't try to hide my ugly laugh and turn the music up.

   "We should do this more often. It's nice," I say and swing around to the rhythm of the song. "It's a bit chilly and it's also drizzling, though, I hope it doesn't ruin our date," he suddenly asks. I shake my head and grab a blanket out of the picnic basket. "I packed a blanket," I say and cover our legs with it. "Besides, the tree above us catches most of the drizzle."

   I grab some fruit I picked from my garden earlier and enjoy the fresh taste of the strawberries in my mouth. "Do you want some," I ask as I'm about to hand him some, but he sticks out his hand and shows he's already eating them. "Oh," I awkwardly say and take a sip of my cold-turned tea.

   "Oh, would you look at that kitten," he suddenly says and removes the blanket from his legs. He straightens his posture and follows the orange patterned kitten around with his wide eyes. He hugs his crossed legs together and watches in awe as the kitten runs up to us. "It's probably hungry," I say and beat Karl to petting the cat.

   The kitten circles around my sandwich and sniffs it. Its nose accidentally touches the lettuce and jumps back a little. "Where is its mother," Karl asks as he looks around for a bigger sized orange cat, but fails to find one near us.

   I look around too and catch the kitten trying to steal the chicken out of my sandwich.

   "Hey! That's my chicken," I raise my voice at it. I watch as the tiny thief steals the chicken and struggles to run away with the huge piece of roasted chicken in its tiny mouth.

   Karl tries to keep in his laughter by forcefully putting his two hands in front of his mouth while I look at my poor chicken-less sandwich. I won't be enjoying that anymore.

   We watch as the kitten chews down massive pieces of chicken at once by a nearby tree.

   "Lucky bastard," I say as I squint my eyes at it.

   "What a sly boy," Karl says when he finally stops dying from laughter and sits back up.

   I furrow my eyebrows and wipe my runny nose with a tissue paper. "How do you know it's a boy," I ask him.

   "Well, only boys are stupid enough to think they can steal from a girl like you," he says and intertwines our hands. He grabs his hand with the other and holds my hand with both hands.

   A message pops up on his phone.

   He suddenly lets loose and puts on his jacket. He stands up within a blink of an eye and throws the left-over dishes in the basket.

   "What are you doing," I ask confused.

   "It's about to storm," he says and folds the blanket that was keeping me warm moments earlier.

   "How do you know," I ask and already feel the wind picking up.

   "There are multiple dark clouds hovering over us," he says, and helps me up. "And I got an alert on my phone. Code orange storm."

   I help him clean up and put on my trench coat. "Oh, shit," I say under my breath while the drizzle turns into heavy rainfall.

   We run back to the car and throw in all of our stuff.

   "Wait!" I say as I make eye contact with the little thief.

   "He followed us," I say and I crouch down as the drenched kitten tiptoes over to me.

   Surprisingly, the little kitten jumps in my arms and shivers as he's not yet used to the sudden temperature drop. I decide to bring him inside the car on a whim.

   "Do you have a towel in the car," I ask Karl and he shakes his head immediately. He knows his car from inside and out, so he doesn't have to think about it twice.

   "Where did I leave the blanket," I ask him as I hold the little one close to my chest.

   "I'll get it," he says and jumps out of the car.

   The heavy rainfall turns to ice pellets falling down from the sky. The ice pellets hit the roof of the car which scares the kitten and leaves some red marks on my arms. I bite on my lip and hold the poor kitten even tighter.

   "You want some chicken," I ask him, but of course, he doesn't understand me and almost scratches my cheek.

   "You sure seemed interested in it when you stole it from me," I say.

    Karl opens the door and shakes his head to remove some ice pellets left in his hair. The daisy crown flies out of his wet hair.

   "Here, let me help you," Karl says and grabs the kitten with the blanket and carefully wraps the soft sheet around him.

   I watch as he calms down while Karl is talking to him and playing with his paws.

   My fingers trace the red marks on my skin and I flinch.

   "Bad kitty," I say. Karl's attention is solely on the little one. I scoff and wipe away little droplets of blood.

   "Glad to see that the kitten gets more attention than I do," I jokingly say.

   "You shouldn't have called it a bastard," he replies and starts the car while the kitten is sat resting on his thighs.

   I distract myself from the agonizing burn in my arms and sing along to the music that's been playing for at least ten minutes.

   "What are we going to do with him," I ask. He switches the gear and goes back to holding the kitten-stuffed blanket.

   "I don't know. We could adopt it," he says.

   I look away from the window and cross my arms.

   "Yeah, but don't you think he already has owners? Maybe the cat got lost and is now missing," I say as soon as I start thinking about it.

   "I'm sure that's not the case. That area is known for having homeless cats roaming around. Plus, I think he loves me." His thumb travels over the little thief's tiny head.

   "And it hates me," I sigh looking down at the scratches he left.

   "No, I don't think he hates you, he's just afraid of you," he starts. "but that'll wear off soon if you give him some more of that chicken," he giggles which wakens the little boy.

   "Will I change your mind if I told you that you can name it? Just, don't call it thief or Clyde," he says in a serious tone, but I know he's joking around.

   "Swiper," I say and smile at him.

   He covers his forehead with his hand.

   "Really? As in Swiper the fox from Dora," he asks as his hand moves along with the question.

   "He stole my chicken! He deserves to be called Swiper," I say. "And besides, you told me I could name him."

   He looks down at the sleeping kitten and smiles. "Swiper, it is."

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Word count: 1328