#“beautiful and gentle detail” goodness gracious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluffallamaful · 3 years

Text

An Inconvenient Itch

🦙🦙🦙…

more gogy content. first time writing c!george wow 😟

Summary: The only thing troubling George Lore in his life, is an itch on the bottom of his foot. DreamXD offers his gracious help, only to make a brand new tickly discovery about humans. SO EXTREMELY PLATONIC

Warnings: FEET TICKLES!!!!!!! and other tickles

Word Count: 4150

hope you enjoy!! 🤩

🦙🦙🦙…

A cool breeze whipped over the grassy clearing that lay out in front of George, each grass blade rippling itself into a bow as it passed, and the assortment of flowers twisting and turning to regain control over their pesky parasol-like petals. George breathed deep as the breeze reached him, closing his eyes and taking in the freshness of the dark oak forest, smiling as the wind wrapped around each of his brown locks, tugging at them gently as it passed.

All was well in the life of George Lore. The goggle-wearing boy had seldom felt the pains of loss or worry that the server had offered to so many others. He had never had to endure the pain of being betrayed by someone he had considered a true friend, never had to bare witness to the destruction of a build he had worked so hard on. He had never experienced the heartbreak after losing a loved one, the pain of a sword piercing through his skin, or the fear of losing his own life after tasting blood on his lips. He considered himself to be rather lucky.

Another breeze washed over him, leaves dancing and rustling above him, and ones that had already fallen tumbling over his fingers. He watched as the sturdy mushrooms that circled the clearing worked to regain their posture, the breath of wind knocking them off balance.

He was unable to pinpoint the exact moment that the clearing had become so familiar, however the weathered headboard of his bed - which lay at the edge of the waving field - held the time in seasons, his blue blanket still littered with stubborn remnants of dry leaves from the last winter. All he knew, was that the mushroom-filled dark oak forest had served as his home for a good while now, and out of all the locations to admire the clearing from, the grassy bank that they were situated on now captured it’s beauty perfectly. ‘They’ being him, and DreamXD - the god of the server.

It was strange, but much of his gratefulness for his seemingly unscathed life had only occurred relatively recently to George. His memory failed to supply him with the exact timeline, but he seemed to remember that it had first began at around the same time that he had befriended DreamXD. Again, he was unable to pinpoint the exact details of how him and the cloaked deity had actually met, let alone how they had managed to become as close of friends as they were now. But he did know that he trusted XD greatly, with not only his physical life, but his thoughts and feelings as well.

So on a day like today, when the weather was perfect, he had no imminent threats and XD could stay with him all day, the only thing that was able to bother George, was the itch on the bottom of his foot.

And to be fair, an itch on the foot was annoying at most times, since the body part was just so far away, and you had to stop walking or standing just to scratch it. But even in his seated position, George was still having a hard time curing his itch, no matter how forcefully he rubbed it into the grassy ground, it was just no use with his boots on. And so, reluctantly, he began wrestling the stubborn leather from his foot, yanking the limb into his lap to finally demolish the irritating feeling.

“What’s wrong?” XD’s gentle voice questioned, George didn’t need to look up at him to know that their hooded head was tilted into confusion. So many things about humans still confused XD. George found it mostly endearing, but in times like these when the deity’s curiosity merely inhibited him from concentrating on the task at hand, he found it less endearing.

“My foot is itchy.” He mumbled, a frown contorting his features when the exact location of the itch was unable to be found.

“It is frustrating you.” George scoffed at XD’s usual habit of pointing out the obvious, however he bit back any further retorts so not to upset the surprisingly fragile deity.

“Yes.” He huffed. XD watched curiously as the brunette rubbed his foot into the grass again, his fists scrunching into balls of frustration.

“Because you can’t find where it’s itching?”

“Well because it’s on the bottom of my foot!! It’s like right below my little toe it’s just an annoying place to get to!!” George complained in a huff.

He was about to pull his foot back into his lap, when one of XD’s large hands wrapped around his ankle. He gasped, instinctively tugging at the bootless limb, but looking up to XD in panicked confusion when his leg was gently dragged back into the deity’s lap.

“W-what are you-”

“I’m helping you find the bit that itches.” The deity explained, his voice genuine and dripping with innocence. George felt his face pale, toes curling when XD’s other hand hovered over his bare foot, claws drawn at the ready to ‘help George scratch his itch’.

“W-wait NO!! XD WAIT NOHO YOU CAHAN’T!!!” He yelped, pulling at his leg more desperately now. He knew those nails all too well to know how they’d feel scribbling over the bottom of his foot, and they would definitely not help him with his problem, they would simply tickle.. really bad.

XD blinked at the boy’s sudden panic, immediately lessening his grip when they noticed the wide-eyed look that they were receiving.

“Why not?” They asked, poised hand drooping in the slightest. George could hear the offence in his voice, the immortal-being not understanding the difference between helping someone scratch a spot that they can’t reach on their back, versus on their foot. But it had just not come up in conversation yet.

“B-because it’ll… UGHH!! You just can’t!!”

And yet, despite now being the best possible time to explain this phenomenon to XD, George found that his face flushed before he even finished the sentence, his eyes averting from the porcelain mask with a frustrated grunt.

XD knew of tickling. It was one of the many things that George had taught him since they had met. In fact, tickling had become an important aspect to their friendship, a trust exercise if you will. George knew that if he was having a bad day, then he could always rely on XD to cheer him up, despite how embarrassing it was, and he knew that he would always return the favour for XD (although the latter interaction was rare).

However he must’ve failed to mention the fact that feet could also in fact be ticklish in humans. Maybe it had just slipped his mind? Or perhaps the specific body part was just such a vulnerable area that he had subconsciously kept it to himself.

“I would never hurt you George!!” The deity’s offended voice pulled George from his thoughts, the god apparently assuming that the mortal was fearing pain.

“No I know! That’s not what I-”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” They soothed, his reassurance being accompanied by a thumb and forefinger pinching down the outside of George’s foot. “Now where did you say it was again? Under this toe right?”

“WAHAHIHIT NOHO EHEX DEHE DOHOHON’T!!” George screamed, his whole foot tensing up as XD’s long nails began to scribble beneath his pinky toe, his body convulsing back into the ground behind him.

He twisted onto his side, clawing into the grassy earth in attempt to keep his reactions in check, but the distraction only working for a couple seconds before bottled up cackles came flooding out of his mouth.

“EheHEHEX DeHEHEhe!!!” He pleaded.

“This is ticklish?!” XD marvelled, his mouth dropping to a wide smile as he studied the mortal’s reactions. George shook his head at the deity’s excited tone, his hands coming up to cover his warming cheeks, before dropping his head back into the soft grass.

“I didn’t know that feet could be ticklish!!”

“Ihihi- Ihihihi fohohogot toho- EHEHEX DEHEHE NAHAHAHAH DOHOHON’T!!”

George jolted sharply when he felt XD drag all five nails up and down the sole of his foot, suddenly gaining a burst of energy to spring up and attempt to wrestle his trapped ankle free from the unfailing grasp. He managed to chase away the deity’s hands long enough to wrap both of his own hands protectively around his foot, shooting a pouting glare up to his godly friend’s mask. XD returned his glare with a toothy grin.

“Move your hands Georgie~” They sang, the teasy tone breaking George’s pout into a flustered smile. He ducked his head with a huff.

“Stohop! You’ve seen enough already let mehehe goho!!” He whined into his arms, yanking at the foot again. The deity chuckled from above, tracing his free fingers lazily over the tops of George’s hands, eliciting a few soft giggles to bubble out of him.

“I only just found out about this now! How can I have seen enough?!” XD argued. George scoffed at their stubborness, hands twitching to tighten around his foot. Like he said before, he trusted the god greatly, with his whole life in fact. So his defence was not set up due to him being uncomfortable, or even at as result of him not wanting XD to find out about this spot. George was simply embarrassed.

And XD knew this all too well.

“George~” The deity’s warm tone washed over the the brown haired boy, his spine shuddering at it’s insinuation, having heard it many times in the past. He attempted to wrangle the corners of his lips down into a frown, shoving his face firmly into his outstretched arms.

“Your ears are going red~”

“Stohohop!!” He squeaked, his elbows forming a barricade to hide his equally red face from XD’s taunts.

“You’re getting embarrassed~ And we both know what happens when you get embarrassed George~”

A muffled whine elicited out of the curled up boy. He was well aware of what his cloaked friend was referring to, his hands already twitching as the internal war bloomed inside his mind. Should he prioritise his defence? Or should he give into the instinct that demanded his face to be buried safely into his hands?

“Let go of your foot George.” XD stirred, scratching his free hand lightly down the brunette’s wrist, smiling at the small yelp and flinch it produced. Realistically, they’d have no trouble fighting away the boy’s smaller hands, but George’s reactions - in XD’s eyes - were worth putting his curiosity on hold, just for the moment.

“Ehehehex Dehehehe thihihis ihihisn’t fahahihir!” George’s protest sounded from beneath his twitching arms, him showing the same stubbornness as the sturdy mushrooms had earlier. XD smiled fondly.

“No? Well I can think of something worse than this.”

George gasped when a hand was suddenly felt lightly scratching through his hair, his face paling again when it slowly travelled down to the nape of his neck. He shuddered, before falling into squeaking giggles as it fluttered around to the side, tracing over the edges of his hot ears.

“Nohohoho thihihis ihihis- Yohohhuhur’e cheheheating..” He whined, although it came out as more of a slur. He twisted his head from side to side, goggles assuming a lopsided perch a top his head, and his shoulders scrunching up in attempt to shield the area from the dancing fingers. His smile widened as XD hummed.

“You like it~”

“No Ihihi dohohon’t- hEHehEY!!” His giggles picked up as XD’s fingers fluttered down to his shoulder blades, shoulders rolling to dislodge the tingling sensations. “Ehehehehex DEHEHE!!” He yelped, the temptation to batt away the hands coaxing one of his fingers to unwrap from its defensive role. He swiftly replaced it with a gasp, followed by a nervous giggle.

“Almost Georgie~”

“StoHOHoP Ihihihi’m nohoHoT leHEHetting gohoho!!”

“Do I need to find your bad rib?” XD taunted, tracing up and down the giggling boy’s back, watching as his shoulder’s bounced beneath his touch.

“Nohoho!! I hahahate thahahat rihihib…”

“You love that rib.” They corrected the boy’s fib, adoration squeezing at his heart as George headbutted into his arm with a giggly groan, his red ears a great contrast to the blue sleeves of his t-shirt.

Gently, XD pulled the boy closer to him, his two bottom arms slowly snaking around to hover over his top most ribs. George watched as the hands slowly drifted their way into the view shaped by his arms and thighs, his stomach suddenly dropping and his grip around his foot tightening. He held his breath, the butterflies in his stomach keeping him company as he watched the fingers wiggle towards him.

“E-Ehex Dehehe.” He gritted out, his cheeks heating up when his masked friend didn’t respond. He puffed them out as the fingers made contact with his skin, eyes squeezing shut, and a smile creasing his taught cheeks. The muscles covering his ribs spasmed as the nails just barely grazed over the set of bones, body twisting on the spot as they traced around to the sides of his body.

“Well it’s not this one.”

“Yohohuhuhu knohow whihich one it ihihis stohohop!!” George accused, his whole body quivering as giggles threatened to spill out of him. He pursed his lips shut tight as the deity’s feather light touches travelled down his rib cage, teasing each protruding bone long enough to make George squirm, but never allowing him to get used to the maddening feeling.

He squeaked again once the wiggling fingers finally reached his two most sensitive ribs, a single anticipatory giggle bubbling out of him, before he quickly clamped his mouth back shut tight. XD hummed.

“Here it is~” He sang gently, moving his thumbs forwards to knead gentle circles into the sensitive area. They watched fondly as the boy’s squirming increased, his knuckles whitening as his grip around his foot tightened.

“E-ehex Dehe!!” George gritted out, voice constrained as he attempted to stifle his laugh, however his defences quite literally deflated only a few seconds after calling upon the deity, the breath of air he had been holding back abruptly being released, allowing for a wave of sweet cackles to pour out of him.

DreamXD smiled, quickening the pace of his kneading, resulting in the intensity of George’s cackles to follow suit.

“NaHAhAhaH EHEhEhex DEhEHeHeHe!!!!” George yelped, his body suddenly taking over and commanding his arms to to clamp tightly down to his sides. He shook his head into his hands as XD still continued to wiggle beneath his arms, blissful laughter still tumbling out of him. It wasn’t until he felt a warm hand cup over his barefoot that he realised his mistake, head snapping up and eyes widening in panic.

“NAHAHAHAHA EHEHEX DEHEHE NOHOHOHO!!!” He screeched, desperately scrambling to latch into his foot again, but the masked god simply pulling it out of his reach, causing him to fall backwards into one of their conveniently placed arms.

“NO!! NONONONO NAHAHAHA EHEHEX DEHEHE!!” He wailed, flailing his limbs desperately as he was hoisted into the deity’s lap, their menacing grin peaking out from beneath their mask.

“Finally.” XD taunted, using a bottom arm to still George’s flailing leg, while readjusting his hold on his already trapped ankle. He looked down to the mirthful boy giggling away in their lap, admiring the brilliant red that glowed on his cheeks, the colour putting the red mushrooms of the biome to shame. His goggles had toppled off of his head in his struggling and so XD took the time to replace them, setting them gently on top of the tussled brown hair.

“STohOHohoP!!” George whined, a flustered smile replacing his pout yet again, the attention that XD was providing apparently being far to much for him. He pressed his hands firmly into his warming face, subtly tugging at his trapped foot. He had mostly accepted that an escape would be futile now, but it still didn’t stop him from at least trying.

XD frowned as his view of the mortal’s face was obstructed, an unimpressed hum sounded from him.

“No.” He stated firmly, the same bottom arm used to replace the goggles now scooping up George’s wrists, holding them away from his face.

“I get to see now.” George yelped at XD’s stubborn demand, craning his neck in attempt to follow his confiscated barricade, but his head soon falling back into the god’s lap in defeat.

“Noho Ehex-”

“I’ve let you hide this whole time!” The deity pointed out, already predicting the boys protest. They watched as he groaned, eyes squeezing shut as soft flustered giggles toppled out of him. A fond smile was quick to replace XD’s previous frown, his attention now turning towards George’s trapped foot. Carefully, he un-cupped his hand from it, watching in amusement as it folded over immediately.

“Nohohohoho…” George whined, puffing out his cheeks as the god placed a single nail into the middle of his foot. He squeaked, instinctively trying to angle his foot away from the imposing finger, but XD managing to trap his ankle straight, preventing him from twisting it anymore.

“Nahaha!! Ehehehex Dehehe Ihihihi cahahan’t!!” He pleaded, white goggles toppling off of his head once again as he shook his head into the deity’s deep green cloak. His hands pulled gently at XD’s as his face flushed once again.

“I haven’t even done anything yet!” XD crooned. George only giggled more, squeezing his eyes shut and toes curling further to brace for the attack.

“Ihihihit’s gohohing toho tihihihickle reheheally bahad.” He managed, voice muffled by the green garments.

XD smiled, taking pity on the flustered state that the boy had got himself into.

“Only for a little?” They bargained, ensuring to keep his voice soft and genuine, coaxing a giggly groan from George. He turned his head out of the soft fabric, a pout forming on his face as the words to decline his friend’s terms refused to form in his throat. He had never quite been able to shut down XD’s curiosity, him finding the deity’s will to learn far too endearing. So with a defeated sigh, he slowly nodded his head.

“Fihine. Juhuhust behehehe cahaharef- AHCK!!!” He yelped as XD’s dormant finger came to life immediately, gently tracing a long nail down the middle of his foot. Bright giggles were quick to pour from his chest, his head shaking and hands flexing in their hold.

“I will.” XD promised, offering the boy a reassuring smile, before turning his attention to the captive foot. He watched curiously as it curled in on itself, similar to way the mortal’s neck did as he fluttered his fingers over it. They allowed his finger to trace down the length of the foot, listening carefully to the array squeaks and yelps that interjected George’s laughter, as he passed over different areas.

“It’s like your ribs.” They pondered, circling around George’s heel once he got there, smiling at the softer giggles it produced.

“Huhuhuhuh?” George managed, a little dazed from his laughter. He peeled his face out of XD’s cloak again, looking up to address the god, and watching as the leafy branches danced far above his head. His stomach dropped when he noticed how intensely XD was studying his foot however, a slow flush travelling up his cheeks at the unwanted attention.

“Stohohop loohohoking at ihit!!” He demanded, shrinking away once the deity looked down to him instead, scanning his face with the same concentration. He couldn’t help but smile when a cheeky grin formed under the deity’s mask.

“Does it embarrass you?” They teased, returning their gaze to the withdrawn foot, tracing a gentle nail back up its sole.

“StoHohOHOhOp!!” George choked, flustered cackles spluttering out of him, before he fell back into squeaking laughter as the deity travelled back up his foot.

“I like seeing the reactions it’s cute.” XD explained, watching in amusement as the brunette’s toes curled up further once he reached the top of his foot.

“Noho ihihit’s nohohot!!” George argued, burying his flustered face safely back into XD’s cloak, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to still his foot.

“What are your toes hiding~”

“Whahahat?!” George squawked, another flustered cackle sputtering out of him, and his toes instinctively curling even further, even once XD’s tracing stopped.

“Whahat dohoho youhu mehehean?!”

“They’re curling up. It’s like they’re also embarrassed.”

George whined. The deity always had a way of phrasing things in the most flustering way possible.

“Stohohop loohohoking at thehem!” He demanded again, trying his hardest to sound intimidating.

“You’re embarrassed by your toes?” XD questioned, him apparently taking no notice to the mortal’s attempted snarl.

“EHEHEX DEHE!!” George yelled, pulling at his hands again as his face flushed further, screeching out in frustration when they didn’t budge. He fell onto a fit of giggles, melting back into the deity’s lap, desperately nuzzling into his fabric den.

“Lehehet mihihihy hahands gOhOh- AAHAHH WAHAHIHIT EHEHEX DEHEHE DOHONT DOHO THAHAT!!” George screeched, his eyes widening in alarm when he felt the god’s hand wrap around his foot, stretching it out so that he couldn’t curl it up anymore.

“Your embarrassed toes keep getting in the way.” XD explained calmly, removing the arm from George’s other leg and allowing it to take over the role of his tracing finger, causing George’s face to pale and flush simultaneously.

“OhohoHokAy OHOkAhy!! Juhust WahAHit!!” He pleaded, tugging at his trapped limbs and unburrowing himself to shoot pleading brown eyes up to his masked friend.

“I’ll be gentle don’t worry.” The deity reassured, offering a warm smile to the boy’s desperate expressions, before gently scratching two nails over the ball of George’s foot.

“WAHAHIHIHIT EHEHEX DEHEHE!!” George screeched, the pitch of his voice causing XD to flinch.

“They were hiding a good spot!” They chuckled, shaking out his ringing ears, and smiling as George writhed in his lap, his back arching as loud cackles exploded out of him. “I thought they might’ve been.” He affirmed, tracing circles across the undeniably sensitive area, scribbling under each toe as he had done earlier.

“YOUHUHUR NAHAHAILS!!” George screeched, unable to form a sentence anymore complex than that, his cackles scooping up his words and throwing them out into the forest, his voice pinging from dark oak to dark oak.

DreamXD chuckled, adding in his other fingers to scratch gently over the whole area, fighting back the force that George’s toes challenged him with.

Another shrill squeal echoed around the biome, George’s free leg kicking out, his arms yanking at their hold and his head shaking as his body’s instincts suddenly screamed at him to escape.

“NAHAHAHA EHEHX DEHEHE IHIT’S- AHAHAHAH EHEHEX DEHEHE IHIT’S TOHOHOO MAHAHAHA!!” He wailed, the disjointed pleas prompting the scampering of nearby mobs, them swiftly evacuating the area to avoid George’s squeals. He tugged desperately at his leg, tears of mirth spilling from his eyes as his brain screamed out in ticklish agony.

Thankfully, the deity got the message, ceasing his attack and wrapping his hand around the quivering foot comfortingly instead. George’s giggles continued, but he gratefully gulped in deep breaths of air, his vision blurry with tears, and body light and giddy.

DreamXD watched as the boy melted back into his lap, releasing his hands and stroking his own hand through the boy’s ruffled hair instead, gently smoothening it out. He rubbed a thumb over the foot gently, chasing away the rest of the residual giggles, patiently waiting for the mortal to calm down.

“Your nahails are soho bad.” George finally spoke, a giddy smile still pulling at his lips. XD smiled proudly.

“You always say that.” They chuckled, reaching for the boys abandoned boot, and carefully slipping his foot safely back into it, chuckled along with the brunette as he giggled through the process.

“I’m surprised you can walk with how ticklish your feet are.” He teased, finally reuniting the leg with its pair. George rolled his eyes.

“Well the ground doesn’t reach out and hold my feet captive.” He argued, his wide smile complimenting his blush. He allowed for the deity to help him up, collecting up his goggles, and resuming his position on the grassy hill from before.

“I was helping!” XD defended, shuffling over closer to the seated boy, gently guiding him to lean against him. The brunette scoffed at the excuse, but didn’t object to the god’s request for affection.

The sinking sun bled out into the sky, tinting the soft blue with a bright orange, it falling over the tops of the dark oaks, and turning their deep green leaves into a shimmering gold.

“Did I get your itch at least?”

George huffed at the deity’s cheeky question, although he could not deny the fact that his itch was in fact gone.

All was well in the life of George Lore once more.

🦙🦙🦙…

it’s been so long *gasps*

i am sorry for the lack of fics. uni is stressful and i can’t write cute feckin tickles when i’m STRESSED

#lee!george #lee!georgenotfound #ler!dreamxd #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #fluffallamaful fics

170 notes · View notes

feralrunaway · 3 years

Text

The Exhibition

Summary: August has an eye for art, and he wants everyone, especially you, to know.

Word Count: 1,040

Warnings: Exhibitionism, D/s dynamics, Thigh riding

A/N: Yep, we’re getting filthy again. As always, please read the warnings. Inspired by the ensuing conversation when I decided to attack @hope-to-hell with more kink. Unbeta’d, unedited.

It’s just a small gathering.

Just a few drinks.

Only a few hours.

You can do this for me darling, can’t you?

————

The room is warm. The lighting tasteful. Classical music spilling quietly over murmured conversations.

August was never one to skimp on the fineries.

The artworks displayed around the room are of exceptional quality, the eyes gracing them appreciative. Discerning.

Champagne bubbles drift languidly up the side of their glass flutes to be sipped during the silences.

A charismatic and gracious host, August takes his time, well-polished shoes moving in the direction of each guest with a predatory grace that only you recognize as such. The quiet, firm baritone of his voice drifts in your direction occasionally, causing minute shivers to move across your skin.

Your eyes remain fixed upon him, despite the many eyes begging for yours to greet them. The soft pillow of your lips stay gently closed, muted to the world. There is only one for whom you would speak, and that, only when you have completed your task.

His icy blue eyes scanning the patrons fall upon the one closest to you, a small, lethal smirk gracing his bewhiskered lips. As he draws near, those eyes drift in your direction as he begins to speak.

“Exquisite, yes?”

A quiet hum of concurrence can be heard to your right. “Quite the centerpiece.”

“The grace in the composure, the perfect curves and lines.”

A nod of assent barely visible in your periphery.

“Tell me, have you ever seen such beauty as the way the light plays off the color of the irises?”

Another guest drifting over, casual and solemn in their appraisal of the sight in front of them. “Diamonds, August?”

The gems waver with the rise and fall of your chest, your only movement under their scrutiny. The necklace feels weighty, even as the rest of your nude form feels as though it might float away under the intense dissemination of his gaze.

“They contrast so nicely don’t they? The play of color reflected against the skin. The uncompromising texture against the softness.”

To guest after guest does he describe the art of your form, the beauty and grace that his vision drinks in. His appraisal so thorough, so intense, that the gathered wetness of your core begins a languid journey down your inner thigh. And all the while you remain still but for the gentle heave of your lungs.

“The curve of the jaw is of particular note to me. Never have I found such distraction in detail. The way it draws the eye down the neck. Almost makes you want to touch. Almost.”

Blissful torture, having him note, elementally, the precise features of your beauty. A study, impersonal to the observing crowd, a mere commentary of a live statue, but not to you. His eyes are pools of dark desire, but they are his only tell.

As the evening draws to a close, your desire for him is burning within you. But you wait.

A lesson in pure discipline of the body, the mind. A deep, soulful urge to see his pleasure in your ability to withstand the waiting, the tension, without breaking.

As the door closes upon the last guest, your heart speeds to a drumbeat within your chest. Quiet footsteps fall on the path to the spot where you stand on display. The final moments of this exquisite, erotic test of your will are blooming.

You keep your body still, despite the anticipation thrumming through your veins. His large frame pressing in close, but not touching, not yet.

“You were perfect, Pet.” And the words whisper over your skin, his fingertips brushing the air above your arms.

“You were so beautiful, and patient.” The barest ghosting of fingers grace the curve of your jaw, that of which he made his appreciation so well known.

“Did you listen when I spoke of your qualities?” And his lips are hovering over your own, his breath fanning across the plump skin, and if you were to tilt your head just so, they would graze together.

His fingers trail their almost-contact down your abdomen, across your thighs.

“How shall I reward you?”

And it’s an exhalation of breath, “Just touch me, please. I need to feel you.”

The final show of your obedience, the demonstration that you have listened all those nights when he uttered Use your words, Pet. It’s the dissolution of his only insecurity, that reassurance that you know to speak up when you need. That you were as desirous of this exhibition as he.

And he utters a growled, “Good girl” and it’s desirous and it’s needy, and then his mouth is devouring yours with passion. His hands come to you heavily, touching and caressing every inch of skin that he spent his evening stoically admiring.

He’s hitching your legs around his hips, with intent to carry you away to the bedroom. But you’re both too far gone in the desire built up from the teasing and the yearning created by the invisible wall of observation.

So he’s pressing you bodily against the wall, his groin against yours as your lips and tongues make up for lost hours. He tastes of champagne and sin and the heady mix is causing you to lose yourself in the tempestuous need for closeness.

And he senses this, sliding you down and pressing a thigh between your legs, the warm wetness of your core staining his trousers. The hitch of your hips has him pressing you down, encouraging you to take what you need.

“Yes, Pet. Right here. I want you to make yourself come for me.” And with his broad frame pressing you to the architecture, you do just that. Undulations of your hips bring you to the brink, and he’s merely supporting, watching with eyes that drink in every delicious movement. A cry and a gasp and you’re left trembling, grinding out the final waves of euphoria against his broad thigh.

“And that, my darling, is one more color of the indelible ink of your beauty.”

And when he carries you the rest of the way to the room, you determine yourself to show him just what a work of art he is himself.

—————

Jan 26, 2021

Tag list:

(If you would like to be added or removed, please let me know. I have removed those who didn’t specifically request to be on the list and crossed out those whose tags do not work.)

@beck07990

@magdelen69

@rn7rocks

@tinylittlebluebird

@inthenameofcavill

@gearhead66

@oddsnendsfanfics

@cavillhavoc

@pterodactylterrace

@killjoy-assbutt-1112

@mary-ann84

@fuckoffbard

@its--fandom--darling

@kmuir1

@thelastsock

@henryobsessed

@eldarwen333

@definitelydenisse

@inlovewithhisblueeyes

@shy-violet-soul

@seriouslygoodlookinggents

@coffeebreathy

@hope-to-hell

@summersong69

@faithiee

@madbaddic7ed

@artandotherdelights

@emyearns

@cavillryarchive

@bellening

@agniavateira

@maizyistrash

@wiccanmetallicrose

@the-soot-sprite

@foodieforthoughts

@geralt-of-baevia

@harrysthiccthighss

@luclittlepond

@critfailroll

@brandycranby

@october505

#august walker #smut

201 notes · View notes

it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 3 years

Text

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 10

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 3.3k

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You were on cloud nine. Waking up in Sauls arms the next morning was the highlight of your life. Granted, you were sore! The discomfort was something you were willing to put up with however because last night was mind blowing.

The morning after was filled with gentle playing and heated make out sessions. It was Sunday so luckily neither of you were expected to be anywhere. You showered together, learning each others bodies further. Saul made you breakfast and after that you lay and watched a movie together. Normal, mundane, relationship stuff. It was all you could dream of.

Unfortunately the time came where you had to go back to your dorm. Instead of doing the walk of shame you opted for your new favourite method of transportation. Portal. Saul kissed you deeply before the black whole appeared and you disappeared through it. At least now you could teleport back and forward into his room having seen the inside more clearly.

The girls jumped when your portal appeared in the middle of the room. They’re were on your instantly, eager for the juicy details. You sat down and gave them the PG version, not delving into too much detail. What you both did last night was personal and not for the faint hearted. You also showed off the presents Saul had gotten you and the Winx club squealed in delight when they saw the ring. After your lowdown of the events last night, the girls let you know that the party was a massive hit and if it wasn’t for Terras hangover potion they’d all still be in bed.

Presents adorned the floor of the main room you notice, someone must have brought them up for you. There were so many you didn’t know if you’d manage to open them all on your own. So one by one the girls helped you unwrap the gracious gifts. That took up a chunk of time. Still chatting and opening, Terra blushed and rattled off about how Helia had kissed her goodnight at the end of the party, then you noticed Aisha blushing too, the same thing had happened with her. The specialists were making moves and you couldn’t help but swell with excitement for your friends. Everything was perfect, maybe too perfect.

——————————————————————————————————

-The Next day-

“What do you think the assembly is about?” Your arm was linked with Stella’s as you walked through the grand halls of the castle you called your school. You’d never get used to your real life Hogwarts.

“It’s a burned one assembly apparently and even worse, my mother is leading it. Yippee. She’s really just here to check on my progress and remind me how much of a disappointment I am.” Your best friend rolled her eyes. You were slightly nervous about meeting the Queen of Solaria, I mean, who wouldn’t be. Stella had insisted you’d stay with her. Emotional support. You took her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.

The cars pulled up and the chauffeur opened the door for the Queen. Regal and gorgeous, the spitting image of Stella apart from she had brown hair instead of blonde. She came over and greeted Stella with a hug and then stopped. Her eyes widened as she looked at you. She was starring and you didn’t know why….

“Pleasure to meet you your highness.” You curtsied, Stella had shown you how. It seemed to snap the Queen from her daze and she smiled at you.

“How lovely, you must be Y/N, Stella’s told me a lot about you.”

——————————————————————————————————

You’d left Stella to catch up with her mum. Aimlessly wondering the halls looking at features you’d never stopped to appreciate before. Then you saw one flustered looking man.

“Sa- Mr Silva!.” You jogged to catch up to him. He stopped turning. He didn’t smile. Woooah. He looked stressed.

“Now isn’t a great time Y/N.” You wanted to reach out and touch him but there were students all around. Did he really just brush you off though? Must be something serious going on for his shitty attitude.

“Okay.” You whispered. “Well, maybe we can talk when you change your attitude anyway.” You were annoyed. You knew his job was stressful and you knew that you had to act like student and teacher during school hours, however, you’d like to think that he would be a bit more… kinder, even when he was pissed at something else. Before he spoke you’d turned on your heel, flicking your hair behind you and walked off. Suck on that.

——————————————————————————————————

The assembly had started. You weren’t there. You were too annoyed with Saul to sit there while he was up at the front acting as if he wasn’t rude to you two minutes ago. You skipped, wondering the school grounds when you bumped into Bloom.

“Whats your excuse for skipping?” You fell into step with the red head, who explained she was trying to find more about where she came from. Part of you realised that maybe you should have been making more effort in that department. You were still a mystery and going through the books you had stolen from the library in Magix hadn’t turned anything up yet.

You reached a storage cellar, old books, pictures and other junk filled the room to the brim, all covered in dust and cobwebs. Sky was there, he seemed surprised to see you, like wise.

“Maybe while were looking I might find something about me too.” You started searching through things. Not sure at all about what you were looking for when you were then joined by Beatrix and Riven. Not two of your favourite people to say the least.

You didn’t know them too well, but there was a reason for that. Trouble seemed to follow them everywhere and Beatrix gave you a weird vibe. Not good juju. Riven was just a punk. He thought he was the bad boy but it was all an act which you saw straight through. Example A. Beatrix just dropped the bomb that Riven was the one walking around school telling everyone Bloom was a changeling. You still didn’t see the big deal about changelings. You were one too after all. Sky and Riven left, leaving you alone with the two girls.

“So, that door is locked. Are we breaking in or not?” You didn’t wait for their answer. Curiosity getting the best of you. Walking over you put your hand on the lock and picture it heating up. Fire. Another one of the many abilities you possessed. Your magic was second nature to you now. Like you’d been practising for years. It was scary and cool at the same time just how intone with your abilities you were. The lock fell off and the door swung open.

——————————————————————————————————

What the hell had you been dragged into. Honestly this wasn’t really your style. But hey, you’d gotten this far. You were currently in a stolen car, driving to some place called Asterdale. Bloom had a theory that’s where her parents might be from and hey, what do you know, Beatrix knows where it is. So yup, you were in the front of a stolen.. ROYAL car.

Ohhh lord. This wasn’t going to end well.

- Sauls POV -

Where the hell was she. Why wasn’t she at the assembly?! Saul was ragging, scared, angry at himself for being so flippant with Y/N earlier. The visit from the Queen and with the death of a teacher, it was a lot to deal with. He hadn’t meant to take it out on his sweet girl. Now he was just worried. Leaving the assembly would look suspicious so he stayed, part of him hoping she was just running late.

His fears got worse when he went back to Farah’s office. Farah had noticed Y/N wasn’t there either. She was more worried than she’d ever been. Then Y/N’s suit mates burst through the door looking worried too.

“Y/N and Bloom were in the east wing its Beatrix during assembly.” Saul, Farah and Ben all looked at each other.

“Okay and why were they down there?” Farah was quick to get it in the neck from Musa. Who was visibly concerned about something. Saul couldn’t stand still, pacing back and forward.

“Omg we know, we know that someone killed Callum and you think it was a fairy and that’s what you were looking for in the assembly!” Saul’s head whipped round to Terra. “We haven’t heard from them in hours and no one as seen Beatrix either.” Saul’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice through the ear piece he was wearing.

“One of the Queens Guards are knocked out, his SUV is gone.” Sauls jaw clenched and made his way to the door. He was mad. If Beatrix had hurt his girl in any way, there would be hell to pay.

“We will find them, I promise.”

——————————————————————————————————

-Your POV-

The place Beatrix took you to was bare. Was this some kind of sick joke? You drove two hours for this? Nothing but open fields and shrubs next to a steep looking cliff over looking choppy, cold water.

“And this is where you’ve taken us to kill us, right?” You joked but part of you was actually worried. You’d always thought Beatrix was a shady bitch. “Asterdale is a town right? So where is it?” You stopped, looking into the vastness. Bloom looked twitchy, annoyed almost because you guaranteed she was thinking the same thing as you.

You were alarmed all of a sudden when your ears pricked up at the sound of electricity, turning just in time to see Bloom shouting at Beatrix who’s hands were glowing with power.

“You’re not the only powerful fairies at Alfea you know.” Yup, you were right. You were so about to die. You raised your hands ready for a fight but the bolt of blue electricity burst past you hitting an invisible forcefield just like the one that surrounded the school and crashed with a loud bang, revealing chaos behind it.

Beatrix went on to tell you both about how Asterdale used to be a beautiful place, but one winter Burned Ones surrounded the settlement and a Military Unit from Alfea decided destroying the Burned Ones was more important than the lives of the people living there. How Queen Luna was the one who had put up the veil that stopped people from really seeing what had happened to the once thriving village. Then she went onto drop the bomb that Asterdale is where she was born and her family were killed there. The only people who survived were her… and you and Bloom. You were from Asterdale?

“I saw it, Dowling, Silva, Harvey.” Beatrix had tears rolling down her face. No, no…. Saul would never kill innocent people. Never. He couldn’t… that wasn’t your Saul. You whipped quickly at the stray tears that had fallen. He knew about this and he didn’t tell you? Did he know where you were from and he didn’t tell you because… he had a hand in killing a village full of innocents?

You’d heard enough and couldn’t bare to listen to anymore. You walked away, Beatrix and Bloom still talking about what had happened. You watched as the veil came down again slowly, covering up the evidence of a war crime. It was gone, just like that. As if nothing ever happened. As if the people that had once lived there never mattered. Forgotten in time.

Bloom still didn’t trust Beatrix, and neither did you. You opted for sitting in the back this time. Keeping an eye on the girl you hardly knew. What game was she playing? You felt like there had to be more to the story. Why would you and Bloom be hidden away in the first world? Why would Dowling, let you and Bloom into the school knowing that she killed your families?

“And we will get it because Rosalind is alive.” You caught the tail end of the convo, having been zoned out with your own thoughts. Hold the fuck up. The mysterious woman who had been leaving cryptic messages in Blooms head was.. Alive? After Miss Dowling told her that she had been dead for years. The plot thickens. You were about to make a comment but something on the road caught your eye.

“Oh fuck.” You braced yourself against the seat in the back as you watched Saul fire an arrow at the wheel of the car. It burst, sending the car skidding across the road. This was nottt going to be good.

You all jumped out of the car, Beatrix tried to run but Farah had used her magic and she was slowly sinking into the ground. Miss Dowling walked over, slapping on two bracelets on Beatrix’ wrists, it looked like coiled pieces of barbed wire. You didn’t care if B was shady, no one deserved that pain. Both you and Bloom bolted from the car with shouts of protest. You were lifted up into Sauls arms where you kicked and screamed to get free. Bloom was held back by Mr Harvey who was a lot stronger than he looked. You gave up, settling into Sauls arms, he was whispering in your ear trying to calm you, his hold on you tightening. Normally you’d feel comfort in his touch, but the story from Beatrix left you with some unanswered questions too big to go ignored.

——————————��———————————————————————

The girls were waiting for you outside. Stella grabbed you in a hug, you could tell she was worried. Saul was carting Beatrix away to her magic prison cell, not before letting you know that he’d speak to you later. Duty called. Duty sucked.

“Y/N, after we deal with Beatrix see me in my office, there’s something important we must discuss.” You glared at Miss Dowling who gave you a sympathetic look. Stella squeezed your arm.

“Y/N, you need to hear what she has to say. It’s important.” How did Stella know what she wanted to talk about. This whole day was one big bowl of confusing and you just wanted it to be over with. “Just know, I’ll be here when you’re ready, I promise.” Okay, so that wasn’t worrying at all…..

“I’m afraid miss Y/L/N, Stella won’t be able to keep that promise any time soon. Were leaving, Stella get in the car.” Stella’s eyes widened as she watched her things from the dorm being packed into her mothers car. The Queen was waiting for Stella to do what she said and this was one battle you wouldn’t win. Could you catch a break?

“No, No, NO, Stella you can’t leave, please I need you, you’re my best friend.” You were crying, the frustrations of the day coming out all at once. Stella was crying too but the Queens guards took her by the arms despite her struggles and stuffed her in the car. It was too much, you were sobbing, your vision blurry from the tears. You felt someone come up behind you and noticed the familiar tingle, crying harder as the car sped off into the distance. You turned and screamed in Sauls chest, luckily his strong arms were around you otherwise you’d have fallen to the ground in despair. Could today get any worse?

——————————————————————————————————

Replaying the events from today to the other girls was hard. Luckily Bloom did most of the talking. Beatrix had apparently killed Callum and things were even more confusing now. You didn’t know who to trust, who to believe. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Saul. Your tired looking soldier was standing at the door with heavy eyes. “Babe, can you come with me please, Farah wants to talk to you.” She’d already spoken to Bloom about the events earlier. Now it was your turn after having time to calm down about Stella.

Standing up silently, you made your way to the door, the girls hugging you on the way out. You had the urge to ask Saul everything there and then. Let the cat out of the bag. Say ‘I know what you did,’ but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You didn’t want to believe the reason you were an orphan was because of the man you loved. Instead you took his hand when the coast was clear and sighed, having needed his touch all day.

You found yourself at the Headmistresses office more often than not these days, but this time something felt different. You turned to Saul and look him in the eyes.

“Why do I feel like if I go in there life will never be the same again.” His hand came up to touch your cheek which you leant into, savouring his warm touch.

“Darling, everything is okay, everything will be okay I promise.” People had been making a lot of promises today, hopefully they would be able to keep them. You started for the door but then noticed Saul didn’t budge.

“Are you not coming in?” You tilted your head. He shook his and gave you a kiss before you went through the doors.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me though.” With that you left him, facing whatever punishment Headmistress Dowling had in store for you.

——————————————————————————————————

It hadn’t been as bad as you thought in the beginning. She sat you down, asked you if you wanted a drink or anything. Then she got into the nitty gritty stuff about what compelled you to go with Beatrix and Bloom. Answers. Answers you needed, that’s why you went with them.

“Bloom said something about her parents being from a place called Asterdale, Beatrix knew where it was. She took us there, we hoped we would find answers about why we were changelings. Turns out we learnt an ugly truth instead.” Farah looked shocked but you continued. “She said that Rosalind took her, me and Bloom, saved us from destruction cause by you, Silva and Harvey. Is that true?” Farah had her head in her hands. Guilt. You could practically smell it on her.

“It’s not what you think Y/N, please believe me, there’s more to the story.” She stood up, walking around to stand next to you. You stood up to, moving away from the woman who had set Saul up to spy on you. How could you believe her, all she’s done since you joined this world was lie.

“Why would I believe you! You killed my fucking parents!” You were angry. So angry, You could feel your eyes turning black. The shouting had alerted Saul who tried the door handles to get into the room but with a swish of your hand, the door was sealed shut, fire melting the hinges closed.

“Just calm down Y/N, please, lets talk about this.” In the background Saul was banging on the door and calling your name.

“Because of you, I don’t have a father, because of you I’ll never know my mother!” You advanced on the woman who had her hands up ready for a fight if that’s what it came to. You could feel the power coursing through your whole body. This is why you could control your magic so easily, you were so emotional.

“Y/N, I am your mother!” Farah screamed, Saul stopped banging on the door and your eyes faded back to their normal colour.

You knew before stepping into the room that something was going to happen and you were right, your world would be changed forever.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, I bet you didnt expect that to happen.. Please let me know what you thought in the comments, Like, Follow and Reblog! <3 If you want to join the tag list please let me know !

CHAPTER 11 ------- CLICK HERE

Tag List

@tinktohispan

@azure23x

@alexiapayne12

@codykosuckmytoe

@lllyyysss02

@kingunder221b

@a-scrumptiouslywingedstudent

@music-of-melody

@cecedrake2217

@anreeixcobra

@sporadicsaladcloudgoop

@616hotchners

@janelongxox

@lflores2008

@shadowhuntyi

125 notes · View notes

icecreamsundayonajulyafternoon · 3 years

Text

Alcina Dimitrescu/f reader

+some well meaning Chris

I also posted this on my ao3 account Homoeroticmicrowave as a part of my resident evil oneshots book the link to which is : https://archiveofourown.org/works/32351686/chapters/80202100

For context in this the reader works with Chris but got kidnapped by Alcina and ended up bonding with her

Anyway behold My dignified shit post:

Alcina tilted your head up by your chin with one of her claws with a gentle sort of care “I might just be enamoured by you my little maiden” her voice had a certain air to it as the power she carried held strong though the coldness it had been coddled by withered away.

“And I am just glad to have met someone as truly brilliant as you are you make my heart feel like it’s faltering” Alcina’s tensed muscles and rigid posture seemed to deflate as her claws retracted.

“My little human girl you truly are one of a kind you are too good for this world and it’s cruelty that it afflicts you with”

Her hands incased yours as she held them so lightly ”Stay with me” Alcina’s eyes steadily gazed into your own “I want you to stay with me in this castle forever with me. I want you to marry me and be mine and let me be yours”

You almost thought she was joking but Alcina Dimitrescu would never make such a joke and to claim that she had would be ludicrous it was simply not in her nature to be so brash with her humour. However, declarations received a treatment that was a far cry to how her delicate words of amusement were handled

“I can give you a life worthy of living for you. I’ll have you adorned in whatever clothes you would see fit to clad your body and express your beauty in all of its forms, I’ll have you living a luxurious life that would make a deity envious, your every desire would be fulfilled if you only ask and I promise you I will give you everything if only to see you relish the world you live in” there was a certain warmth to her tone that she never previously expressed to you.

”It’s a pitiful world full of devastation and tyranny and I will not have it harm you from hence forth”

You released one of your hands from her gentle grasp so that your hands could reach out

“You make me feel pink and small and like I’m fluttering like my feet could rise from the ground and I’d float in the air like some sort of silly, little cartoon character when they’re smitten by someone” you felt overheated and uncomfortable as you spoke but you continued

“I would stay with you whether or not you had riches to offer me. Castles and gowns and jewellery is all very lovely but it’s not what keeps me yearning. I want you Alcina, I want you and I want to spend every moment that I can with you” you smiled despite your inability to even glimpse her face. A coward you were and yet a lovesick fool you were all the same.

“I found a home with you Alcina.” Your eyes finally reunited with hers and as she looked at you, you had never felt more loved than in that moment. “Let me be your home too….let me marry you” the words caressed her heart and she moved your arms so that they fell around her neck and she lifted you up by your waist. “I treasure every moment I have with you my love” she whispered. “Let this world we’ll build last forever”

When you had a moment alone while getting ready you radioed into whatever members of your team were still alive and had their radios still working and on them “So I’m not gonna be able to go back with you guys but everything’s pretty good so uh yeah I don’t really know how to explain the predicament- no that’s too negative a word- situation- no, no this is not a situation that makes it sound like there’s some kind of situation- what I meant to say the events that preceded my current happenings can be perceived as a little odd however everything is fine, goodbye forever”

You threw your radio out of the window and into the snow and presumed it had broke. Chances were your teammates would not have heard your message but it was still polite to let them know you were alive and well and would simply just not be joining them on their way home or anything at all again ever because you were about to be married to a giant, homocidal lady. They could be angered by your supposed ‘disrespectful’ tone concerning how you address everyone and didn’t go over formalities but you were gifted with this thing known as manner which influenced your decision to inform them of your lack of presence on the return journey before hand.

You were just considerate like that.

You gushed over the dress you had been so graciously gifted. It truly was a work of art tailored just for you. Each detail of it was made with a passionate precision that had you gawking with glee as you admired every segment of material woven into the fabric.

It was a true marvel and you felt like a piece of artwork yourself that would be displayed with great care in an art museum. You looked like a glamorous painting that was created with such integral beauty that the expertise of the artist could not be measured by any title or prideful words.

A sense of pride ghosted your senses and you found your fingertips brushing the mirror with such a light touch that you couldn’t br sure your skin had made contact with the mirror at all. You were so subconsciously convinced what you were looking into was glazed with deceit and if you touched the mirror you would break the illusion of beauty and your true form of much lesser looks would be restored. But that didn’t happen and for a moment you could sympathise with narcissus as much like them you found yourself fawning over the being of beauty that you weren’t entirely sure was yourself.

You were truly a bride who’s beauty was beyond befitting of any title that could be bestowed upon you and you thought yourself to be belonging with angels of artwork, your place was dancing with the muses who were worth more than simple adoration and worship.

You weren’t a god but you were blessed by Aphrodite’s touch and you were sure simple folk could not help but be too mesmerised to experience jealousy at your envious appearance.

If it were a sin to be enraptured in revelling in your own appearance than you would relish the hellfire that rained down to scorch your flesh and soul. You’d paint such a pretty picture dancing in the misery of hell gifted by sins. Lucifer had treated you well and you thanked them for gracing you with what God couldn’t.

Alcina’s voice rang out like a dove from behind the door and lulled you away from the mirror your attention had been stolen by. “Perhaps you could be so gracious as to adorn me with your presence”

You turned to face the direction of her voice “of course anytime my love” you said earnestly.

“I won’t look at you now nor do I want you to see me just yet but I couldn’t help but to speak to you just for a moment beforehand…I want it to be special my dear and I won’t want for it to be any less special than either of us want for it to be because you deserve everything you want and yet lover I find myself needing to be selfish and needing to hear your voice”

”Alcina it’s okay” you couldn’t help but to let a giggle escape you “I can’t help but feel nervous to see you and yet I can’t wait to I love you and tonight is special because it’s our night it’s special because it marks the first day I get to be with you forever”

You head Alcina let out a small laugh tainted by an agitating anxiousness. “So do I”

You felt breathless as you stepped out into the night. Donna your apparent personal seamstress and now flower girl guided you to where it would take place.

Alcina stared as though she had witnessed something that couldn’t be explained by any science or rationality. While she herself was a sight to take in when she saw you she felt as though her childhood dreams were coming true as you seemed mythical.

When your eyes met her you felt like you were falling and you didn’t want to stop. Not for a moment. She was gorgeous. A wedding dress perfectly fit for her graced her elegant features. She looked ethereal and you wanted to reach out to touch her. Each step you took seemed so slow. Far too slow for your liking. You wanted to be in her arms and soon.

When you did finally meet her while tradition forbid you to kiss her just yet you at least reached out to hold her hands. Your eyes glistened with joy all of the love you had barely fit in your body as it threatened to burst out of you in bounds of laughter and tears. You felt so much and you wanted to feel like that forever. You wanted for this moment to last forever. You wanted to be held by her forever.

Your hair seemed so gorgeous and lustrous in the glowing moonlight. Fairy lights decorated the trees surrounding you and fireflies twirled in the breeze. To think you would see such beauty and wonder in what had once been a placed that had brought you such terror and havoc.

Alcina held you tenderly as though she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. She wouldn’t be isolated in that feeling as you were swarmed by disbelief, you didn’t shun all of the conflicting emotions you were feeling. Not for a moment. You welcomed them and you couldn’t help but tingle with the relief of any negative thoughts or surprise being overwhelmed with ecstatic delight. You had thought of marriage in the general sense before when considering where the events of your life might lead you and while it wasn’t conventional not anything close to what you could have ever expected you would gladly spend the rest of your days residing in Dimitrescu castle with Alcina. She really was one marvellous woman.

You had insisted on certain songs being played at your wedding from fun songs you had once joked about being played at your wedding to irresistibly romantic guilty pleasures that you would have been teased mercilessly for an infinite amount of times had you ever admitted you would want played. But that was in another lifetime and while Alcina may not always understand certain aspects of your interests she was always glad to watch you indulge in them.

You two danced, chests pounding with a romantic joy you had never thought existed in the way you felt it. As your arms wrapped around her neck as she lifted you up you couldn’t help but think how a much younger version of yourself would feel giddy at knowing how in love you were. Though knowing your child self the word ‘gross’ would also most likely make an appearance as the topic of love.

You admired every detail of her face and when you kissed her you thought about how you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with her. However long you had would be amazing as long as it was spent by your side whether it be one day or one hundred years you wanted to spend it all with her. You had been bewitched by her and you couldn’t be happier.

Then your moment was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire. Violence and stubborn hatred truly had a way of ruining even the most kindest and beautiful of moments.

Alcina scooped you up and ran, throwing you over her shoulder and quickly moving so that you may escape the presence of aggression and be safe in the sanctuary she made for you.

Over her shoulder you saw Chris running, bullets blazing as he ran with a determined rage. You thought he would have been long gone by now. You had convinced Alcina to give up her part in aiding Miranda’s plan. Surely you could convince her to let these people leaves unscathed.

You moved in front of Alcina, attempting to quell her anger and bitter bloodlust with promises of trust and hope. You begged her to at least let you try to form some kind of truce so that you would not have to live knowing people you cared about destroyed each other. Hesitantly she let you go. Though her reluctance was apparent and she looked so eager to snatch you up and lock you far from those who put your life at risk.

You left the castle and approached the direction you were adamant Chris and probably his team would soon be.

Geez he really went to the effort to risk his life searching for your and stealing you back with him all so he could lecture you on your lack of formality and far too casual tone when you had radioed in as well as your blatant disrespect, poor execution of the mission and your inconsideration of the expense of the property you had been given. Sounds about right. It was a mistake to attempt some kind of means of communication really. And now look what happened your wedding was ruined.

You raised your hands up to show you meant no harm when Chris and found and approached you.

There was a moment between Chris properly processing you were there and him first catching sight of you where it felt like everything had been put on pause. He eyed you suspiciously as though you were some sort of distraction, a part of a malicious scheme Alcina had made in order to proficiently destroy any hope of Chris’s rescue attempt and mission succeeding.

”Hey” you waved awkwardly in a hopeless attempt to break through the immense pressure and tension of the situation “nice to see you’re still alive and stuff that’s cool” your voice rang out through the silence. “I’m alive too which is fun looks like we have that in common”at that point you were just throwing dumb words at him in a blatant attempt to get him to respond in a way that wouldn’t suck.

Chris grabbed you and pulled you into a vice-like hug. You felt him lift you up “It’s good to see you….Where is that thing? What did that bitch do to you?” He seethed.

”Nothing she actually had a pretty good sense of hospitality-did you come here on your own without anyone-“

He had you back on the ground but his grasp never left you as he shifted his grip so that he now had a steady hold on your shoulders. “This isn’t the time to act like nothings wrong if you’re injured or you’ve been drugged with something you need to tell me” his hold on you was just as secure as it was when he hugged you even if he no longer had you squished against him.

“I’ve not been hurt really I’m not lying to you Chris” you looked him in the eyes and tried to communicate with your facial expressions that you were telling the truth.

Chris sighed slightly but nodded “good, we need to leave we can continue this conversation when we’re safe-“

You put a hand on his chest to put some distance between you both “look Chris I’m- I’m not leaving. I’m staying here” Chris looked a mixture of perplexed and horrified.

He stepped closer to you so he was practically leering over you “what are you talking about! We’re going. Now.”

“No Chris I’m not. I love Alcina and I’m not leaving her. I won’t. You can leave I’ll make sure she won’t come after you just as I made sure she no longer interfered with Ethan finding Rose but I won’t go with you”You stared defiantly at him as you stood as tall as you could despite him towering over you.

”Alcina? Is that what that bitch got you to call her!You think you love that thing! Jesus Christ what did she do to you!” Chris looked disgusted at your words.

“Hey man I don’t ruin your weddings do I the least you could do is let me go back to her-“ Chris held your arm tightly preventing you from leaving as he radioed into someone.

”I’ve acquired S/n. Clearly they’re under some kind of influence- they must have been brainwashed or put in some form of hypnotic state!” Chris hypothesised to the person on the other end of the radio upon your immediate reluctance to leave. The moment you suggested you had no interest in leaving he stopped talking directly to you. “We’ll meet you there soon we’ll need a medic and possibly some means of restraint for them” he tucked the radio back into his pocket and turned his attention back on you.

“I’m all here I’m just genuinely okay to stay here” you implored him to recognise that you were in fact all there.

Chris ignored your attempts to defend your sanity and slung you over you shoulder. “Fuck are you doing!” You yelped at his sudden action.

“I don’t know what that freak did to you but I won’t let you suffer! I won’t leave you in this hell hole! We can fix this I promise!” He seemed so genuinely concerned and you understood why but you just needed him to listen. You knew how ugly this was going to end up if he didn’t.

”Stop calling her that! You know nothing of her! There’s nothing to fix! She’s been nothing but kind to me! Please just put me down and leave!” Your pleads were wasted as he stopped responding to you.

Panicking you thrashed in his stone like grip even going so far as to try to bite and scratch him. He grunted in response to your little attack and repositioned you so that you couldn’t easily hurt him and if you did you wouldn’t do much damage.

Your fears were ignited when you heard Alcina’s voice rampaging through the wind. Chris cursed and you began begging you to put him down and leave you. Unfortunately, he interpreted your words as an attempt to sacrifice yourself for his sake, which he refused to go along with.

He didn’t let go of you as he began running and quickly grabbing a gun which he fired at Alcina with a precision you wish he lacked. You started screaming begging for them not to fight but your words crumbled as your weeping shouts were overpowered by the insatiable violence that inevitably occurred due to both parties refusal to attempt any form of reason.

While you understood the motivation both of them had and if you heard one perspective by itself you could easily side with it if the other one remained unknown to you.

Chris set you down by a tree after tying you to it. You blubbered through your messy tears that he needed to stop and listen to you for just a moment. You were desperate for them to stop before it was too late but just as always you were ignored as Chris left you to fight Alcina.

Your thoughts flurried as paranoia and fear truly sunk in and you were sure one or both of them would die. As you were sure you would lose everything to the cruelty of bloodshed. Time seemed to drag on and you struggled to release yourself from the rope that held you securely. You were so sure that one of them were dead as horrific sounds seeped into the cold night air.

Your fears proved true when you heard Alcina’s screams rattle throughout the air. Your breath hitched. What just happened-

Your head snapped at the sound of footsteps and your whole body felt like it was burning as you saw Chris’s weathered face.

He untied you and lifted you up into his arms that seemed to tremble ever so slightly. “What-what just” you could barely get the words out of your mouth. It couldn’t have possibly meant what-no there had to be some other explanation. Any other explanation.

”She won’t hurt you anymore” with those words you fell a part.

Chris remained silent as you sobbed. He just kept walking. He was sure you were just experiencing some kind of false mourning as the result of whatever Alcina had done to you. And yet guilt threatened to creep at the doubt that teased the back of his mind. He held back his thoughts and focused on getting you home.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil #biohazard #chris redfield #alcina dimitrescu #lgbt girl #resident evil fanfic #angst #wlw #lgbtqia

40 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( SWEET MAGNOLIAS. )

He was your unlikely muse; you were the weird girl in the park. Could you make it any more obvious?

pairing. myg x named f!reader. s2l.

genre + rating. college!au. fluff, angst, smut. explicit.

tags / warnings. light cussing, yoongi being rightfully weirded out, a whole lotta softness, sadness if you squint at the right times, body painting, and then, of course, the most tender, dumbest lovemaking (unprotected but don’t be silly like them!). there’s also a really bad callback to the titanic. i’m not sorry. lol.

wc. 8.2k

You try not to stare for too long, sweeping your gaze in wide circles so as to be as inconspicuous as possible. You try not to let your eyes linger, follow the contours of his cheeks - soft, pronounced when he smiles - or the shape of his mouth - delicate, petal pink. You try not to make it weird - but it’s decidedly, very weird.

You just can’t help yourself.

He’s always here around this time, laid out on a worn red blanket. Sometimes, he reads. Books like The Alchemist and the Stranger and once, Dante’s Inferno. Other times, he pops a pair of headphones on - oversized, intimidatingly large over his ears - and closes his eyes. Most rare of all, is when he’s not alone, joined at the hip by at least one other boy and on occasion, an entire group of six.

They’re all interesting in their own ways.

There’s one with shoulders the size of boulders, a mountain range situated beneath his shirts. He has a weird laugh that sounds like windshield wipers and your mother’s spring cleaning routine. He yells a lot and even across the lawn, you can sometimes make out his voice.

There’s the tallest one, with kind eyes and dimples so deep you question if there’s treasure buried in them. He reads a lot, too. You’ve seen him in the library more times than you can count, always dutifully tucked away in a back corner surrounded by scattered looseleaf. Despite the course load he seems to have taken on, you’ve never seen him lose his cool. You have seen him lose his phone, though, and pencils and textbooks and AirPods.

There’s Hoseok, whose name you only know because he held your hair once at a fall sorority party. You hadn’t been drinking but somehow, somehow, your roommate had convinced you to apple bob with her. He’d been gracious enough to help you out, fisting your hair in a gentle grip. It’s what spurred you to now always have an elastic on your wrist.

There’s the dancer. He’s slight and even in stillness, far more graceful than you’ll ever be. He’s got pillowy lips and hair that gleams like silk. You’ve sketched him too, once or twice, but never more. It just didn’t feel right - as if you’d never be able to translate that sort of beauty onto paper.

There’s the one from your Art 340 Drawing II class. You’ve wondered, on more than one occasion, how come he isn’t the model. He’s got perfect proportions - defined jaw, strong nose, cheekbones carved from marble. It’s almost off-putting seeing him in person; it feels far more fitting for him to be displayed in a museum, with a plaque that reads Perfection, Mixed Media.

There’s the youngest one, Jungkook. They call him maknae despite the fact that he dwarfs nearly all of them. Maybe it’s just the clothes he wears: boots that look like they’d break your neck and everything in slightly darker shades of black. You run into him at least four times a week - trading greetings at the campus coffee shop and at the library. You’re practically best pals by college standards.

And then, of course, there’s him. Your muse. The one you can’t help but stare at - even when you’re trying your hardest not to. The one who wears glasses though you’re almost certain he doesn’t need them. The one whose smile is more gums than teeth, who looks unassuming and yet often breaks out into the strangest, most inspired dance moves you’ve ever seen. The one who plays recreational basketball on Tuesday nights and who drinks more coffee than you think should be humanly possible.

Min Yoongi.

You sketch him like you’ll never see him again, dragging charcoal strokes across paper until your hand is muddied and the curve of his ear is looking worse for wear. You repeat lines over and over, turning the mop of his hair into ringlets and waves, weaving dimension through the india ink that spills over his eyes. You sometimes add his glasses; you’re quite fond of the look on him.

You paint him sometimes, too, imagining how he’d look with periwinkle blue hair, or maybe dressed in shades of maroon. You swath him in textured fabrics and lovely watercolours, turning him into a fantasy that’ll never see the light of day. Pretty little daydreams with him fixed at the centre.

You fill your pages with his figure, the way he smiles when Hoseok does something silly or how he joins in when Jungkook laughs. You study every bit and piece, learning him in every admiring way you can - despite the fact that you don’t really know him at all.

It’s a staggering lesson in futility but one you take almost daily, armed with pencil and paper and not a single ounce of common sense.

That is, until you’ve done the stupidest thing imaginable.

No, not getting caught. Not in the traditional sense, at least. He hasn’t realised you sit on your bench - yes, your bench, with the sticky metal arm rest and illegible initials scratched into the back - and watch him almost every day. You thank your lucky stars for that.

What you’ve done is much worse - punishable by death by embarrassment.

You have no fucking clue where your sketchbook is.

You could’ve sworn you had it in your bag when you’d returned to your room last night. You can’t imagine you would’ve left it anywhere in the open, orphaning it on a campus full of idiots. You were always so careful. You don’t just lose things.

“I think it’s gone, girl.” You’ve never wanted to yell at your roommate more - not even when you’d caught her and her boyfriend banging in your bed after you’d come home early on the long weekend or when she’d eaten all of your Cherry Garcia ice cream. The desire bubbles about in your chest, fizzing angrily like an agitated soda bottle.

“It’s here somewhere.” The words grit between your teeth, insistent as can be.

“You’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.”

“It’s here.”

“I really don’t think it is…” Jisoo doesn’t quite deserve how you explode, rounding on her with hands flying and eyes wild. “You’re also going to be late for your class.”

Your words falter with the verbalisation of hers.

Lucky for her; unlucky for you.

The hands of the clock above your desk wave at you mockingly. You are, indeed, going to be late for your class.

“Shit! Shit!” Everything you’d torn out gets shoved back into your tote bag. Band-Aids, mints, too many wayward pencils and pens. You almost forget your phone, attention only drawn to it when Jisoo catches the strap of your backpack and yanks you back.

“Don’t forget,” she hums, far more kindly than your harebrained self deserves.

You forget all the reasons you’re upset with her. “Thanks, Ji.” You force a kiss on her cheek before you’re darting out of your room and sprinting across campus to Art 340.

“Nice of you to join us, Miru.” It’s your professor greeting you as you run in fifteen minutes late, weaving through other students to find your seat near the far wall. Laughter follows you, coiling around your ankles and over your shoulders as you settle into your seat, fully hidden behind the oversized easel.

You can’t help the scarlet that paints your cheeks, creeping high across your temples. You know no one cares - that Professor Kinsella is probably the most laidback professor you’ve had in your four semesters - but it can’t be stopped. You’re already flustered from temporarily misplacing your sketchbook that everything else just feels like shit icing on your garbage cake.

“Sorry!” It squeaks out - a mouse, eaten up wholly by cat-ate-the-canary laughter that sounds over your shoulder and not very quietly.

“Having a bad day?”

You’ve heard the voice a handful of times so it shouldn’t shock you the way it does, nearly knocking the graphite from your hand.

“What?”

Kim Taehyung’s on the edge of his chair, one long leg stretched toward you, the other balanced across his knee. You’re not sure how that’s meant to be comfortable but he makes it look effortless. Then again, looking like him, living probably was effortlessly. You can’t deny you’re a little envious.

“Your face is all red. You’re out of breath. Feels like a bad day to me.”

You try not to dwell on the fact that, apparently, you look like an absolute mess. “No, I’m good.” It sounds fake even to your ears, tinny and wrought with anxiety.

“You sure?” He’s not really paying attention to you as he speaks, tracing the contours of the model across his canvas. He begins where you’d never think to, framing the main masses with a languid twist of his wrist. Unlike you, he doesn’t get caught up in the detail; he sees the bigger picture for all it is, building from the outside in.

You’re watching him for longer than you realise, whipping back around once it dawns on you. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Who knows.” There’s a playfulness in his tone that sets you on edge. You’ve never heard it before, all rounded vowels and molasses laughter. You mean to work as you listen, waiting for some indication of whatever lies just beneath the surface.

It’s a mistake. Your stick of charcoal snaps in half when he continues, low and slow as if he’s dragging it out.

“—maybe you lost a sketchbook?”

“Did you say…” You can’t finish the sentence. You feel like you’re about to be sick.

The amount of mischief in his expression should be illegal. It’s dancing in his eyes, curling wide and unabashed over his lips. It’s practically radiating off of him.

“So, bad day?”

He waits for you to pack up, hands tucked into the endless pockets of his black slacks. At any other time, in any other universe, you’d be giddy. Girls on campus would kill for even a second of Taehyung’s attention.

(It’s true - you’d heard a group of them talking about it one time.)

Here and now, you want to sink six feet under.

“They’re really good, you know.” As if the compliment will dull the mortification that threatens to cleave you in half. “You’re really good at capturing his boredom. That’s not easy.”

“Thanks.” You should make conversation; it’s the polite thing to do.

After all, he was kind enough to find and return your sketchbook. Better him than someone else, right? Better him than Yoongi himself? That’s what you tell yourself, at least.

Yoongi doesn’t know and therefore, it’s okay. Semi okay. Distantly related to the idea of okay.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung speaks gently, with a hand that burns through the linen of your blouse. You know he means well but it sears white hot, eviscerating your nerve endings. “You have nothing to worry about. I didn’t tell him.”

You don’t answer him. There’s nothing to say - not really. You’re far too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge the effort he’s making. Maybe this was life’s way of telling you to back off - to find another person to paint.

Or maybe it’s brought you two together, says the silly, naive angel on your shoulder.

You’re ready to flick her off - launch her like some kind of poor Tinkerbell - when your name catches your attention. It’s announced so dramatically that you double take, making sure you haven’t completely run through a picnic or accidentally slammed into someone.

“This is Miru.”

Cognisance comes slow and unhurried, even as your stare swivels wildly in search of context clues.

Laid out before you, right under that familiar magnolia tree, is one blanket, three bodies, and enough takeout to last you an entire week.

“Ohf, phey!” With cheeks stuffed full, it’s hard to make out the two syllables. They crowd against each other, offered in a garbled mess that has you regarding Jungkook with a mixture of concern and confusion. He’s swallowing thickly before he rises far too quickly; you watch a forgotten piece of kimbap go flying, lost to the dirt and bugs. “Sorry. Hi.”

“Do you want to join us?” It’s the angelic one, fitted with cherubic cheeks and a rounded Cupid’s bow. “I’m Jimin, by the way.” He pats the empty space beside him, eyes waning into crescents with the force of his friendliness.

Taehyung had asked if you wanted to grab dinner but you’d never imagined he meant this.

You’ve never been subtle but you try your damnedest to peek at him from your periphery. Unfortunately for you, he’s already sat down, fully made himself comfortable beside the last member of the group.

The one who, for all intents and purposes, appears as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. If looks could kill, you think.

“Don’t worry about him,” Jimin says, so sweetly, with a small bento lid held towards you. It’s already stacked with goodies - a selection of banchan and homemade-looking meatballs sitting alongside a poorly-shaped mound of rice. “Sometimes, he gets like this.”

You want to believe it. Really, you do, but by the way Yoongi’s mouth curls in distaste, all signs point to it being a matter of you rather than a mood.

“Maybe if she respected peoples’ privacy, I wouldn’t have an issue.”

It’s a single sentence quietly spoken and yet it feels like an open-palm slap to the face. Heat radiates over every visible inch, starkly coloured in contrast to the white of your top. It burns as it licks over your cheeks and past your temples, tipping your ears.

“I’m so sorry.” It isn’t clear who you’re apologizing to, the words tumbling wet off your tongue like a waterfall.

You’re gone before anyone can ask.

“That was a dick move.” Jungkook is the first to break the silence, levelling his friend with a disapproving stare. He’s not used to this side of him - the one that can tear a person apart with just a few words. It’s not the Yoongi he knows. It’s not really Yoongi at all.

“Yeah, hyung.” It’s thinner, but just as reproachful. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Yoongi’s laugh is dismissive but he won’t meet anyone’s stare - a tell-tale sign that he’s just a little affected by their words - choosing instead to shovel bites of soondae into his mouth. “Mean what? Invading my privacy?”

“She’s an artist.” Taehyung doesn’t mean it as an excuse but by how Yoongi bristles, he’s certain the senior takes it as such. Before the argument can begin, he continues, all while wrapping a piece of samgyupsal in lettuce. “I doubt she meant any harm, so just cut her some slack.” Fringe is flicked away from his eyes, something sparkling in the pretty brown of his irises. “I’d actually be flattered, if I were you.”

“Then you be her model.”

You haven’t drawn in four days. Well, not really.

You’ve completed what you need for classes, filling your books with mandatory figures and notes on colour theory. You’ve diligently mapped out proportions and brought to life sunsets and sceneries. You’ve done everything you should be doing but nothing that you want to be.

It just doesn’t feel right. Not anymore.

“I hear he’s a really nice guy.” You can’t count how many times Jisoo has tried to cheer you up. From picking up your favourite ice cream (the one she tends to devour anyway) to ordering in fried chicken, she’s been the picture perfect roommate. It only makes you feel that much worse.

You were moping over something that was your fault. And she had to pick up the pieces! It seemed wildly unfair but when you’d told her to stop - insisted upon it with a wail into your pillow - she’d simply shook her head and wrapped you in her arms.

For all of your stupid, silly little rows, Kang Jisoo was the best roommate you’d had in your entire university career.

“Just go outside.” She’s perched on the edge of her bed, painting her toes a brilliant shade of neon green. She’d offered to do yours too, but you’ve more or less refused to leave the comfort of your burrito blanket for anything beyond classes or food. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I can try,” you mumble, words lost to the cotton of your sheets.

Try - and fail, it seemed. You’d already run into him twice. Twice! Even after you’d started taking absurdly long roundabout routes to your classes, the universe had conspired against you.

The first time he’d been walking out of the gym, shoulder to shoulder with another upperclassmen you didn’t recognize. You’d seen him coming from a mile away thanks to his obnoxiously bright Lakers jersey and you’d booked it back the way you’d come, nearly mowing down a couple making kissy faces at each other in front of the lecture hall.

The second time was yesterday afternoon. You’d thought he’d be in his usual spot - so close to your usual spot - that you’d gone to the coffee shop for a midday pick-me-up. Even embarrassed, you weren’t about to suffer a caffeine deficiency. You’d rounded the corner in the same instance he had and you’d sworn he’d seen you, recognition flickering across his face. Fortunately, there’d been a door directly to your right and you’d all but thrown yourself inside.

It was the first and hopefully last time you’d be in a men’s washroom.

“I thought you were tougher than this,” Jisoo hums, equal parts disapproval and kindness. She levels you with a stare - you can feel it burning into your fortress of blankets - and sighs. It’s a bit dramatic, you think.

“Tell me you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing!”

Then again, she’d probably never be stupid enough to lose something so important nor would she fixate so heavily on one person. Your point still stands.

“Seriously, girl.”

Her nail polish bottle bounces off your bed, tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump. You look up in time to see her staring at you imploringly, so wide-eyed and innocent you can’t help but be a little suspicious. “What?”

“I wanted to have Andy over.”

It all falls into place then. Her boyfriend’s in a frat and your (poor) dorm room is the only place they have any sort of privacy. It makes you want to gag but you can’t blame her. You’ve always had an unspoken agreement; you’d just tossed it out the window the past few days.

Guilt prompts you to extract yourself from your duvet, though you don’t stop the chorus of gross, gross, gross! as you begin gathering your things. You almost leave your sketchbook, only opting to tuck it under your arm at the last minute.

“Please, please, don’t use my bed this time.”

“We love you!” She sing-songs as you tug your sneakers on and slip into the hallway.

You’re at a different bench across campus when you hear the voice. It comes from behind you and to your left, accusatory and sharp. You nearly jump out of your own skin, toppling over your water bottle and plastic paint palette. Orange watercolour soaks into the material on your thigh. Dammit.

“Are you following me?”

Min Yoongi stands not three feet from you, arms folded over his chest.

Your heart stutters at the sight of him. It’s hard to speak when it feels like it’s leapt into your throat.

“What?” You hate how you sound - a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You have nothing to be ashamed of. At least, not right now. You’d come all the way here, as far from the magnolia tree and red blanket as you could.

“I said—” His words are glacial and biting. It’s suddenly winter, far chillier than spring should be. You wish you’d brought a sweater or maybe, that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t be cold when you’re dead. “—are you following me?”

“Of course not!”

There’s nothing but disbelief in his expression. It paints itself in broad strokes, prominent in the shadows beneath his eyes and the curl of his mouth. He says nothing.

“Really. I’m not.” You’re insistent, apologetic. Every nerve ending is shot, going haywire beneath your skin and lighting you up in shades of red. The tips of your fingers are tingling. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You wonder if he’s baiting you now.

“For…” Words are cherry-picked and perfect, chosen with a shaking head and the utmost care. “I shouldn’t have drawn you without asking.”

“No shit,” he returns, completely deadpan. He’s really not making this any easier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you continue, a little hopeful and a lot bashful. “I just— I don’t get inspiration like this that often. So I couldn’t let it go.” You don’t need to add what you do, but you do so anyway, because you’ve never been great at making good choices. “Your face is really unique and when you’re happy, it’s just so expressive and your smile is—”

There’s a siren blaring in your ears. A red alert going off so loudly you almost miss the way he laughs.

It’s not the same one he offers to his best friends - far more reserved, exceedingly softer - but it’s there and it’s real and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment.

“You’re laughing.”

He stops immediately. Fair.

“I’m sorry.” Again. More. Draped in apology and optimism that peeks out between your teeth and shines in the dark of your stare. “Even though I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I did, and for that I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

It’s hard to read him, even after you’ve spent hours studying his face. There’s a distinct difference between seeing someone and knowing them, you realize. You might be able to map out every wrinkle of his eyes - replicate every dot and freckle - but you have no idea what it all means or how it comes together to create something more.

Silence fits between the two of you for what feels like a long time. It’s not uncomfortable, though, so you allow it to settle. You figure it’s better than his anger, in any case.

“You could’ve just asked me.”

You can’t wipe the disbelief from your face. “Would you have said yes?”

Yoongi shrugs, a small roll of his shoulders beneath the oversized sweater that dwarfs his frame. “Don’t know, but I would’ve appreciated it.”

Because that’s really what it came down to - the thought, not the action. He’s not entirely sure you understand that yet but he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Blame his softening on the steady repetitions Taehyung and Jungkook have made the past few days. You were lucky to have them in your corner - even if that meant they’d been a thorn in his side.

“Then… can I sketch you?” You’re probably (read: definitely) pushing it. You can’t help it.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff at your audacity. He decides on the former, with a shake of his head that swings his bangs across his forehead and a small, private smile. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” You imagine he can’t hear you as he’s backing away and disappearing the way he came.

“See you tomorrow.”

True to his word, Yoongi lets you draw him the next time you see him (and the next time and the time after that).

It’s different - working off someone who knows they’re being studied. He holds himself a little more stiffly, a little more carefully. His laughter isn’t quite as loud, his smiles more forced. He apologises, even though he doesn’t need to.

Even his untrained eye can see how you struggle to bring life to a robot.

Over time, though, it comes - comfort.

Like the quietly burning coals that melt him down from the inside out, he begins to warm up to you. It comes slowly but it comes nonetheless, as steady as the sun. You appreciate his effort - his patience - more than you can ever say.

You know he gets it, though. He always does. It’s a Yoongi thing.

“You can relax.”

It’s just the two of you, swathed in sweat and waning light that casts shadows across his cheeks. The days are longer than they’ve ever been and the both of you tend to lose track of time, spending hours under that magnolia tree.

“I am relaxed,” he returns, sinking further onto his back, elbows hardly acting to prop him up. He’d been engrossed in a novel for the first half of the afternoon. Another book you’d never bothered to read outside of high school English class. You never really understood it - you much preferred to watch than read - but you loved when he’d recite the words to you, clear and bright and better than any melody.

“You’re trying to stay awake.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No. You’re just as good of a model when you’re sleeping.”

The smile is lazy, hazy like Sunday morning. It reveals his gums and ticks higher on the left side. It makes your heart skip a beat.

“Go ahead then,” he continues. The entirety of his body sags, drops onto the bag he likes to use as a makeshift pillow. You don’t imagine it’s all that comfortable but he never complains.

“If you’re tired, we can just head in, you know.”

You always offer. He never says yes.

A part of you thinks he likes the attention. It’s different from what he receives from anyone else - thoughtful and careful. You think he might like the quiet, too. The benefit of quality time without any of the effort.

So you push on, charcoal edge meeting paper once more. “Just another twenty minutes.”

“Why me?”

The enquiry comes one day, completely out of the blue. It skips your heart and breaks the pastel in your fingers, dust chalking them a lovely shade of lilac.

“What?” You’re not ready for how close Yoongi is - much closer than he ever is - and you shift back, away from the face you’ve spent months filling your sketchbooks with. “Why you what?”

He’s completely nonchalant as he moves even closer.

You can smell his cologne - a distinctly masculine fragrance that’s musk and cedar - and the coffee he’s been nursing for the last hour. It fills your senses, recentring all of your focus so intensely that you don’t immediately recognise he’s continued speaking.

“Why’d you choose to draw me? Why not someone else?” He seems genuinely curious, even though it feels dangerous - a dangling string that’s meant to unravel you.

The answer doesn’t come easily, despite the fact it’s something you’ve asked yourself.

Why him? Why Min Yoongi?

“I don’t know,” you answer, perhaps too honestly. “I saw you and it sort of… just clicked.” How it sounds doesn’t escape you - like something plucked out of a bad romance novel. “I didn’t expect it to be you. I thought I’d draw you once - okay, twice - and then I’d move onto another subject. But I just… couldn’t?”

“So, what you’re telling me is it was love at first sight?” It’s glaringly obvious he’s teasing you. He’s got that grin of his, sly and feline as it creeps across his mouth.

You don’t bristle, instead painted bright red like the sunset that streaks across the sky.

“I— I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say otherwise.”

It’s an uncomfortable line of questioning. You’re not used to it and certainly not from him. You hesitate to speak, turning words over and over on your tongue in an effort to make yourself clear.

You’re not weird. You don’t want this to be weird. But you can’t deny - it’s, decidedly, still very weird.

He tries again - a different tactic this time. One that surprises you, despite the unique friendship you’ve forged over the past few months. “What if I told you I was glad?”

“Glad?” It feels like an echo chamber. Repetition. As if you’re going in circles, chasing a tail that remains just out of reach. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if I told you I’m happy we met?”

Your blink is owlish, fully caught off-guard. “I’d say the same thing. I’m happy we’re friends.”

Amusement rolls off him in waves, evidenced by the laugh that curls into the afternoon. He shimmies closer and closer until there’s barely three inches between you. His knee knocks against yours, bony and denim-clad. You try to ignore the way it burns through your own jeans, sparking heat all the way up to the tips of your ears and down into the soles of your feet.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be just friends anymore?”

It’s not a surprise, really. It’s something that’s been on your mind the past few weeks, sown by offhand comments and little gestures you haven’t been able to ignore. Jungkook had even practically shouted it at you just the other night.

“I’d say…” You trail off, lost somewhere among the constellations in his eyes.

“You’d say?” The words are parroted back at you, threaded together by gossamer thin hope.

“I’d say you’re welcome. For choosing you.” The confidence isn’t your own. It comes from him, crafted by the support he offers easily, hands out like keys. Keys to his heart, you realise belatedly, with a sudden bashfulness. Of course.

He can’t wipe the smile from his face. It eats up every inch, dominating even the playfulness that shines through, turning it the prettiest shade. It stands bright against his cheeks, staining the pale apples red. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You’re suddenly very determined - because you want to give this to him. Just as he’s given you everything you wanted, you want to do the same. In this little cut-out piece of paradise, there’s nothing quite as important.

The one word isn’t much but it feels like a turning point. “Yes.”

“You want me to say ‘yes’?”

He nods, just once. There’s so much certainty you can’t doubt him.

“Then yes—”

It doesn’t matter what you’ve just said yes to. It doesn’t even matter that it could be something awful or really, anything under the sun. All that matters is the feeling of his lips, soft and warm and dry on yours. It’s better than any painting you’ve ever seen, any song you’ve ever heard. It fills you wholly, stuttering your heart and bubbling giddiness in the pit of your stomach.

You probably sound a little silly, surprisingly breathless from such a little thing. “Wow.”

“Good things happen when you ask,” he states, solemnly. You’d take him more seriously if he weren’t so dopey, grinning at you like he never has before.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Luckily, you don’t mind. Not if it gets you another kiss.

You tell him as much and he happily obliges, stealing your breath and replacing it with sugar-coated stardust. You ponder whether you might be able to create with those same particles, turning them into colourful streaks to paint his cheeks. You’d like to find out.

You want a lot of things with Min Yoongi, you decide.

You don’t know how you ended up here.

Actually, that’s a lie. You do. All because of a dumb joke, uttered in passing by Taehyung and now ingrained so deeply in your psyche that you haven’t gone a single day without thinking about it.

“Get out of there,” he whispers right against your temple, lips following to soothe whatever’s got you preoccupied.

“Where?”

“Right there, idiot.” Fingers tap twice, a quick one-two against the side of your head.

You can’t help but grimace, a wrinkling of your nose that your boyfriend chuckles at, pressing kisses across the bridge and over your cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry - just come back to me.” To this moment, he means.

This strange little scene, with his fingers dressed in non-toxic paint and you stripped down to nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and thong.

Have him paint you like one of his French girls, Taehyung had said. It’ll be fun, he’d said.

You think it might be - if you weren’t bouncing with nerves, all five feet three inches of you fizzling with anticipation. Yoongi was only painting you. This was a bonding exercise. Something to bring you closer, to breach the gap between lovestruck artist and inspired musician. Nothing more.

“You’re beautiful, you know.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance but simply a passing comment, like looking at the sky or seeing it snow. So straightforward it makes you laugh, the sound bubbling about in your throat.

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“No, seriously.” He levels you with a look. You know the one - a touch stern but ultimately playful. “I wanted to make something beautiful but…” Digits wiggle, Atlantic blue sweeping over the tips and up his knuckles like the sea. “I can’t really improve on something that’s already perfect.”

Your cheeks light on fire, as brilliantly coloured as the red in his - your - palette.

He thinks it looks pretty against his hands. The same ones that cradle your cheek, so precisely you want to remind him you’re a canvas and not clay.

“You’re silly.”

“ You’re silly,” he returns, as if that’ll somehow win him this battle of wits.

The roll of your eyes is undeniable. “Good one.”

“You know, I’ve got a ton of paint, right? Not your best choice, making fun of me.” He punctuates each word with passes of his fingers. Colour appears wherever he travels, dragged over your skin with dreamy twists of his wrist. A line here, a circle there. Goosebumps follow in their wake despite the fact that his touch is like candle wax - soothing and deliberate.

You wonder, idly, whether he can feel you burning up beneath him.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs again, almost to himself as he dips his fingers into another dot of paint. Pink this time - in the same shade as the magnolias outside. He spreads the colour over your chest, right where your heart beats an erratic rhythm.

He takes his time in admiring his handiwork, swirling the two shades together until it’s the most flattering shade of purple.

You try - and fail - to ignore the way it stirs something behind your ribs. A need that flickers to life without any sort of warning and has you pressing your thighs together.

“Can I take this off?” It comes abruptly, with eyes that snap up to yours. There’s already a hand tucked beneath the small of your back, right under your shoulders. He already knows your answer - can see it in the blown out pupils that reflect his entire world back at him. He still wants to hear it.

You’re unable to find your voice. It’s gone, stolen by the way he ghosts his fingers up and down the sensitive notches of your spine. You could get lost in this feeling, if he let you. You almost do, only nodding when he moves no further, flat of his palm a solid weight right against the clasp of your bra.

You don’t mind that the band is coloured pink and blue when he tosses it aside. You don’t have it in you to focus on anything but how he studies you now. Openly admires you, like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

“What?” Mellifluous and adoring. Music to his ears.

“I think I’m getting distracted.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is that okay?” He speaks more to your boobs than you, single stained hand coming to rest across your ribs. The pad of his thumb swipes over a single bud, perked and already far too sensitive. He’d put his mouth on it, if not for the fact it’s now covered in paint.

Fortunately, there’s still so much of you - places he hasn’t explored but suddenly, desperately needs to.

From the column of your throat and all the way down to the valley of your breasts, he offers sweet kisses. Open-mouthed adoration that leaves you needy and breathless and writing. He catches your untouched nipple between his teeth, gently working it into the same state as its tinted twin.

You shift beneath him, unable to stop the bolt of electricity that rips through you like a thousand volts. It cracks your composure like lightning and sends your pulse racing like thunder. “Of course.”

He hums, content, and nearly falls, dropping his cheek fully against your chest. You’re so soft beneath him, velvet and pliant under his tongue.

“I think I love you.” It’s his voice but your words, spoken so faintly you almost miss it against the roaring in your ears.

“I think I love you, too.”

Yoongi stares up at you then, so full of wonder that you can’t help but look away. It’s an incredibly intimate moment - so much emotion carried in one simple look that you’re not quite sure how to process it. He’d been your inspiration and now you were his. The realisation is almost too much, filling you until you feel like you might float away.

His hands act as an anchor, keeping you here with him.

“You don’t have to say it back.” It’s careful, loaded with his heart and every key to open it.

“I know - I want to.”

He grins so breathlessly handsome that you can’t help but return it, rubied cheeks crystallised with delight. Those same paint-stained hands of his find their newly discovered favourite home of your chest and he sounds like sin when he speaks. “I want you.”

“You can have me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s ducking down and smothering every uncovered inch of you in sweetness. His mouth burns hot but he’s unbearably gentle, searing the shape of his mouth over your breasts and across your collarbone. He licks and sucks as he goes, soothing any ache left behind by the edge of his teeth.

You’re not quite sure where the bites end and the paint begins. It’s all so pretty you don’t mind either way.

But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, you think, even as you whine airily, words stuttering out in a half-formed breath. “Please touch me.”

“Where?” He’s hardly given you room to answer, crowded so closely against you that you can feel his heartbeat all the way through to your own. He’s so warm - so solid - upon you that you almost want to tell him that here, just as he is, is perfect.

A momentary lapse in lust before rational judgment is clouded yet again.

Instead - and with more demand than you mean - you grind purposefully against him. A benefit to having him sitting how he is, knees hooked on either side of your hips. He can’t pretend like he doesn’t feel it, cock twitching beneath the constraints of his boxer-briefs.

Your eyes meet and he chuckles, nuzzling his head back into that spot between your neck and shoulder that has you whimpering. The sound alone drives him crazy.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Yoongi knows this like he knows the sky is blue or your smile is his favourite sight.

You’re teasing him when you catch his face, palms cradling the shape of his jaw. “Then it’ll be a good death.”

He doesn’t disagree - especially when he slips his clean hand along the length of your body. He tweaks your nipple on its descent, tickles the underside of your ribs, and then finds the band of your underwear, all in one fell swoop. A digit dips below the elastic, neatly clipped nail grazing the jut of your hip before shifting and dropping further.

You keen when the pad of his finger grazes your clit.

“Do that again.” He doesn’t need to tell you twice. When he repeats the motion, the sound spills off your tongue without restraint.

He slips further down, pressing his hand to gently part your folds. Digits glide easily, coated in slick that drips between your legs and sorely tests his patience. Yoongi’s not sure what he’d expected but this is so much better it’s making his head spin - and he hasn’t even felt you yet.

“You’re so wet, love.” Shame would swallow you whole if not for the way he speaks with reverence. “How badly do you want this?”

“Don’t tease,” you huff, rutting uselessly against the fingers that tease your centre, barely slipping in before resuming a lazy, leisurely path back up to the bundle of nerves that throbs at the contact. He’s hardly touched you and you’re already at a six, entire body alight with need that thrums heavy in your veins.

“Just tell me.”

“I want this. I need this.” You hope he believes you. You’re not sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t. “I need to feel you - please.”

His entire world is spinning, kicked on its axis by the way your tone pitches, demands and begs in the same lilting voice he so adores but has never quite heard like this. He loves it. “I need to stretch you out. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whine so prettily he almost cracks. It’s enough to have him choking on his own words, not that he’s saying anything. He’s too focused on how he sinks into you - a single digit but so tightly it feels like there’s no way he’ll survive his cock buried inside.

You’re a dream come true. He never wants to wake up.

“More. Please.” You’re so polite, he almost laughs. You’d really taken his words to heart - always asking for what you wanted now. He can’t deny how proud he is. It blossoms in his chest, juxtaposed greatly against the salaciousness that drives him to do exactly as you ask.

His index finger slips in alongside the other. You make that noise he loves, grinding your core against the flat of his palm as he curls his knuckles and seeks out that spot. He knows he’s struck gold when he taps it experimentally, pressure turning light but unrelenting when a choked cry ricochets off your tongue and onto his sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Right there?”

Your nod is enough of an answer.

He redoubles his efforts, fucking you with measured glides of his fingers and precise presses against your g-spot. In no time at all, you’re barely coherent, mumbling his name in a slew of breaths that has him grinning. You’re a sight to behold, moaning so obscenely you’d be ashamed you weren’t so preoccupied by the fact that every part of you feels as if it’s about to splinter.

“Miru— Princess—” Your clit aches and you nearly shriek when he applies pressure against it with the pad of his thumb, swiping your cum over it in slow circles. He wants you so badly - just as bad as you want him- but he’s torn halfway between watching you unravel by his hand and wanting that same euphoria when he’s buried home in your dripping pussy.

“Please, please, please.” There are tears in your eyes. You’re so close you can practically taste it, entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the coil from snapping. “Yoongi, please.”

He’s a fucking goner then, filling you with a third finger and grinding his palm against your clit as you come apart beneath him.

It starts in your toes, stealing feeling all the way up your calves and over your thighs. You’re only aware you’re trembling because it vibrates through Yoongi’s body, looped back to yours when he mouths across your shoulders, sucking memories into your heated, sweat-sweet skin. The stimulation is what keeps you from floating off on a cloud of bliss, the warmth in the pit of your stomach liquifying your bones.

“Are you tired?” Because you certainly look tired - too fucked out to properly meet his stare as he looms over you, both hands adjusted to rest comfortably over your hips.

You are, but it doesn't matter. You haven’t gotten what you wanted - not really - and you aren’t about to let it go without asking.

He’d taught you that.

You smile up at him, doe-eyed and alluring. A hand reaches for his, curls around the fingers still glossy with your slick, and squeezes. “I still need you.”

They’re words he’ll never tire of - also words that have him kicking out of his briefs and rolling your thong down your legs, all too eager. He’s painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and purple at the tip, but he fists himself in slow, measured pumps regardless. It’s a show for you, more than anything.

“ Please.” So pretty, so ready. He can’t resist.

Yoongi sinks against you, the head of his cock brushing through your folds as he slots himself into place with his paint-free hand. The other, still coloured garishly bright, brushes the curve of your lip, the delicate skin beneath your eye. It’s so tender you can’t help but blink, caught off-guard.

“I love you,” you say, though you’re sure he’s meant to, too. You can read it in his eyes - brilliant and bright like a beacon in the night.

He speaks with a roguish grin and a fluid press of his hips. “I know.”

You fit like two puzzle pieces, the stretch perfect as he sinks deeper, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest. You’re so tight around him but he glides in easily, coaxed to fill you by your wetness and the soft, whiny noises you make.

“Holy shit,” he manages once he’s buried as deep as he can go, head spinning with the way you clench around him, nearly stealing the words off his tongue. “Am I dreaming?”

Laughter is a salve - a catch-all remedy for anything that ails him. It pulls him to the here and now, drawing his attention from the overwhelming bliss that creeps up his spine and recentring it on you, beautiful and bashful beneath him.

“No, you’re not.” It’s a caricature of your voice but he doesn’t mind. He loves that he can bring you to this.

“Thank God.”

Except it’s not God you’re thanking when Yoongi begins to move against you, dragging his cock through your walls with such slow, measured strokes you think you might combust. It’s his name when he pulls almost fully out of you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, before snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt. It’s his name that rolls off your tongue like a mantra, hoping and praying and begging for more as he consumes you wholly, in no half measures.

It’s him - Min Yoongi, your muse, your love - that has you crying out, pleasure coursing through your veins as he adjusts and fills you at a completely new angle, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.

“Yoongi - please.” You’re chanting the two words again, turning them into a song he’ll never get out of his head, when you spasm around him. His eyes nearly roll back into his head, the sensation turning his rhythm sloppy as he chases the same high. The hand that had previously been propping him up falls, thumb seeking out your clit as he charges toward the precipice.

“One more, love. Once more for me, okay? I want you to come with me.”

He asks so nicely you can’t deny him - even as the overstimulation takes over. You’re shaking so badly you’re not sure how he keeps you in place; it’s a tremor that won’t stop, traipsing over every limb until you’re sobbing.

“I love you,” he chokes out as he tumbles over the edge, falling headlong into climax with you in tow. It’s so strong it feels like it blinds you, spotting your vision with white as he fills you with his cum and continues to fuck you through it, milking every last moment just like you were his slowly softening cock.

You don’t have it in you to answer, far too exhausted by the last orgasm that has your limbs turned to jelly. Yoongi doesn’t mind though; he likes the just-fucked afterglow and how you sink into his arms when he slips out of you and onto his side.

He eyes the cum that spills onto your thighs, pearlescent and going to waste. He has half a mind to push it back where it belongs.

He only doesn’t because of the words you speak next, hardly above a whisper but loud enough that he groans, burying his face into your hair. “So, thanks, Taehyung?”

“Can you not?” It’s a playful response, with teeth bared against the sweat-slicked nape of your neck.

“Sorry.” A beat. He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep suddenly. “I meant thanks, Titanic.”

author note. this was a drabble prompt i got from the lovely @hecticwonderer and i kind of just... ran with it. oops.

366 notes · View notes

the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

Text

Not Today I

A/N: Hello again! I’m so excited to share the first full chapter of this fic with you all! It’ll definitely be longer than the prologue, so the majority of the chapter (and the taglist) will be under the cut! If you want to be added to my taglist for this fic, please don’t hesitate to contact me through my askbox, DMs, or commenting/reblogging this post to ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you! And if you don’t, thank you for reading anyway, and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

—

820 A.D.

The day Lagertha arrived in Wessex with a few other Vikings, Aethelind had been focusing on her wedding arrangements. As the Princess didn’t want to get married in the slightest, the arrival of the Vikings was a very welcome distraction.

She had been called to her brother’s villa to greet their new… were they guests? Alfred certainly wasn’t seeing them as such, that much she could tell. Her eyes scanned each Viking’s face, looking for one in particular she could recall clearly from her childhood. Seeing that he wasn’t there was... disappointing, to say the least. But, Bishop Heahmund, who she recalled had disappeared with the Vikings for some time, caught her attention when he began to speak.

“Your Majesties, King Alfred and Princess Aethelind,” the dark-haired bishop began. “I would like to introduce my, er… companions, to you.” The twins shared a curious look at Heahmund’s choice of words, but Alfred still nodded.

“You may proceed,” he told Heahmund.

“Thank you, My Liege,” Heahmund replied, and then did exactly that. “First, I have the honor to introduce the Queen Lagertha, of Kattegat.” Both Aethelind and Alfred turned to look at the woman Heahmund had gestured to, and they nodded to her respectfully, only Aethelind wearing a polite smile.

Immediately, she decided Lagertha had to have been the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her long, white hair fell around her shoulders in thick curls, and whatever strands were not hanging loose, were held up in an elaborate braid. She had kind eyes, too, kinder than most Saxons would have imagined a Viking woman to have. But Aethelind still remembered another Viking with kind eyes, and so the fact Lagertha also had them was less surprising than it must have been for others.

Lagertha herself stepped up once she had been introduced by Heahmund, smiling kindly to both Aethelind and Alfred. “It is an honor to meet you both,” she said, and her smile seemed to grow somehow warmer. “Please, allow me to introduce the rest of my family.”

Before Alfred truly got a chance to respond, Aethelind was answering, “We would be delighted, Your Grace. By all means.”

Lagertha gave Aethelind a gracious nod, then turned to the taller of the two men in her company. He wore his blond hair in long, thick braids down his back, with a beard to match. “This is my first and only son, Björn Ironside,” she introduced, before turning to the other man. This one, Aethelind noticed, was almost the spitting image of Ragnar Lothbrok. If her suspicions were correct, then that would mean…

“This is Björn’s brother, Ubbe Ragnarsson.”

Aethelind was floored, and her eyes widened in shock at the revelation.

“Ragnarsson?” she repeated. She began to grin then. “You must be Ivar’s brother. Tell me, how is he? I haven’t seen him in years, now.”

The air in the room suddenly became thick, and filled with tension as Ubbe realized that this must have been the girl Ivar mentioned, back when their father had first died. He had never given very much detail about her, but Ubbe had gotten the feeling- more than once- that Ivar might have missed her- not that he would have admitted it. But looking at her now, Ubbe could understand easily why Ivar would have missed her.

Aethelind was a beautiful young woman, with dark waves that flowed freely down her back, contrasting with her fair skin and vibrant green eyes. This, with what he had been able to pull out of Ivar about her kindness and generally sweet disposition, had Ubbe convinced this was that same girl, now a woman, that Ivar had known, and that he was entirely right to miss her.

“How do you know Ivar?” Björn questioned, and she turned to answer him. However, before she could speak, Ubbe answered for her.

“This is the girl Ivar mentioned when he returned from Wessex,” he said. “He just failed to mention she was a princess.”

Aethelind smiled softly at Ubbe, and she asked, “He mentioned me?”

“As much as he’s likely to mention anything that’s important to him,” he answered, and Björn scoffed.

“In other words, he made us aware you existed, and the rest was up to us to figure out,” he said.

“I take it he doesn’t open up very easily, does he?” she commented. “How is he, though? Is he well?”

Aethelind didn’t receive an answer, however, as Björn turned to Ubbe and said, “We cannot trust her. She is too close to Ivar. She’ll take his side.”

Ubbe huffed a bit at Björn’s conclusion, and when he next spoke, it was in their native tongue. “She probably has no clue what Ivar has done,” he pointed out. “And at this point, she may be our best chance at reclaiming Kattegat. Without her help and her brother’s help, we’ll be too busy trying to survive here to make any plans about Kattegat. And even so, their support on the battlefield, if we could get it, would be a great asset.”

“Ubbe is right,” Lagertha agreed. “At the least, we should make her aware of the situation, and our request. Then, it is up to her if she chooses to help, or not.”

“And if she decides to help Ivar?” Torvi, the younger, blonder woman with a gentle face and large blue eyes, asked. “We could end up hurting our chances.”

The twins watched as Lagertha put a hand on the other woman’s shoulder, not understanding what she then said. “Torvi,” she began. “We must trust the gods. If it is their will that we receive aid here, then we will. But, we must trust them enough to trust them with the decision Princess Aethelind and her brother come to.”

At the mention of her name, Aethelind and Alfred share a look. What on earth was Lagertha talking about?

Torvi sighed but nodded, choosing to trust Lagertha on this, especially considering she knew Lagertha was right. She moved to stand beside Ubbe, and from the way he put his hand on her back, Aethelind realized he must have been her husband.

With this handled, Lagertha turned back to Aethelind and Alfred, giving them a small smile even as she sighed. “I imagine you have not recently communicated with Ivar, if you are asking how he’s been, yes?” she asked the twins- though, really the question was more for Aethelind. Lagertha didn’t get the feeling Alfred was half so interested in Ivar the Boneless as Aethelind was.

“Yes,” Aethelind confirmed, and smiled sadly. “I wish we could have kept in contact with each other, but… I did not speak his language, and he did not speak mine.” She paused to sigh, and bit her lip as she looked to Lagertha again. “And… I get the feeling you’re about to tell me this is a good thing, aren’t you? That I have not been in contact with him since I last saw him?”

“I am afraid so,” Lagertha answered. “It will make this… easier to hear, I think.” Aethelind regarded her curiously, wondering what she meant. “Ivar has taken Kattegat.” The Princess took this information in, nodding along as Lagertha spoke. “He led a civil war against myself and his brothers. Thousands died in his pursuit of the throne. He is now King, but-”

“My brother is a cruel man,” Ubbe interrupted. “I worry for the people of Kattegat under his leadership.”

“If you can call it that,” Björn scoffed. “He will enslave our people, and treat them like prisoners. We cannot allow this.”

“I don’t understand what you are asking of us,” Alfred said, and Aethelind sighed.

“I believe they are asking for aid, in whatever way we can give it,” she told her brother. Her attention turned to Lagertha, who she found had a rather calming presence. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Lagertha answered. “Even if you can only offer shelter for one night, it is more than we have now.”

The way Lagertha spoke, Aethelind felt herself wanting desperately to help the displaced Vikings. They had asked for none of this, and though it hurt to hear of Ivar’s involvement in the situation, she knew that what was done was done. All they could do now was figure out where to go from there.

“We will have to think on this,” Alfred told the Vikings. “Until we have a decision, the guards will take you to-”

“My villa,” Aethelind interrupted. “You may be hesitant to help, brother, but I am not. Lagertha, Björn, Ubbe…” She paused, looking to the other woman whose name she had not gotten.

She seemed to understand why Aethelind had stopped, and supplied her name. “Torvi.”

Aethelind nodded sweetly, then continued, “And Torvi.” She took a breath. “You will all have my support. For now, that will be food and shelter. I hope to offer more in the future, but I am afraid this is all I can do at the moment.”

“This is more than we could have hoped for,” Ubbe said. “Thank you for your kindness and your generosity, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t like to see injustice, is all,” she confessed, and swallowed. “No matter who is perpetrating it.”

The Vikings all knew she meant Ivar, and they realized suddenly just how fortunate they had been that she wanted to help, and had wanted to help them, over Ivar. She had no history with them, but with Ivar, she did. Truly, it must have been the gods’ will that she be on their side.

“Still, you have our gratitude,” Ubbe insisted in light of this.

Aethelind smiled to him, and said, “You should rest before we feast tonight. Go. You will be shown to your chambers by our Head of House, and we will see you this evening.” She inclined her head to an older woman, who stepped forward and gestured for the Vikings to follow her, following the command given to her by Aethelind.

Once the Vikings had left the room, Alfred sighed and turned to Aethelind. “Does my authority mean nothing to you?” he questioned her.

The Princess stood firm, and answered with a strong voice, “Not when you were going to make a horrible mistake.”

A tense silence filled the room as the twins challenged each other, maintaining eye contact for far longer than was comfortable for either of them. Eventually, Alfred was the first to break it.

“I have important matters to attend to,” he said, as if that were why he had broken the eye contact. Aethelind’s smug expression proved she didn’t believe him, and so he added, “We will speak more about this later.”

“Of course,” Aethelind agreed, and Alfred huffed. But, he did seem to soften a bit toward her.

“In the meantime,” he began. “Please be careful.”

She smiled softly at him, and took her brother’s hand. “You know I will be,” she replied reassuringly.

Alfred chuckled a little, and confessed, “Sometimes, I think you are truly too good for your own good.”

Truthfully, Alfred had quite the soft spot for beloved twin sister. She was an incredible young woman, and Alfred thought she deserved the world. Of course, they were both close to their older half-brother Aethelred, but Alfred and Aethelind were twins. They had shared a father, one they’d never known, and now, they shared a bond with each other that neither would ever share with anyone else.

Aethelind gave Alfred’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Get on to your ‘important matters’,” she said playfully. “I love you.”

Alfred chuckled softly and returned the squeeze, answering her, “I love you, too.” He finally left the room, leaving her alone. Aethelind looked to the door the Vikings had left through, and sighed. She had just told Alfred he’d been making the wrong decision, but in trusting Lagertha and her family… she hoped the one who was making the wrong decision wasn’t her.

—

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun

#ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings history #history channel vikings #ivar #not today #chapter one #ivar's heathen army #ivar fanfic #ivar ragnarsson #alex hogh andersen #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc

28 notes · View notes

sleepawaywriting · 4 years

Text

Mornings, Part I

[Piers x Reader, NSFW]

okay so this is half domestic headcanons, half unadulterated horniness. i love the goth boy okay I JUST WANT HIM TO GET SOME SLEEP.

NSFW (18+) UNDER THE CUT

You learn a lot about a person by sleeping with them. In your case, literally. Sleeping next to someone can be an exercise in trust, as it can be extremely vulnerable, and potentially disastrous. After all, you never know who you truly are while asleep until someone is there to bear witness. You could see everything: their nightly routine, their little habits and quirks. What did they prefer to wear, if they wore anything at all? How did they wind down? How did they get comfortable? Did they read? Listen to music? Did they prefer one pillow, or two, or ten? Did they surround themselves in a cocoon of blankets, or sleep completely uncovered, mocking the monsters under the bed? Did they stir at the slightest disturbance, or could they sleep through the end of the world? Were they restless in their slumber, or still as the grave? Did they snore? Did they talk? Did they steal blankets in the night, or did they cling to their partners? You personally found all of these details fascinating. It was as if the other person was sharing a special part of themselves, a part not too often seen by others.

You especially appreciated it now, as you dozed in-and-out of consciousness on a warm, cozy Sunday morning, lying entangled in the slender arms of your loving boyfriend. Your mind tended to wander on mornings like this, when you had no duties, no obligations, and could simply bask in the comforting presence of your slumbering musician. You thought it was funny, how you personally had very little change in your own sleeping habits since dating the ex-Gym Leader, despite your newly-inherited responsibilities as the Champion of Galar. Piers, on the other hand, had gone through an entire circadian metamorphosis since the two of you became intimate. Before you had moved into his flat in Spikemuth—a shocking and borderline scandalous development in your relationship, as far as the tabloids were concerned (you rarely paid them too much mind)—and before he had stepped down as Spikemuth’s Gym Leader, you were amazed if he managed to sleep more than four hours a night. You had an idea of how rarely he slept before you started dating—after all, why else would he send you texts in the dead of night and wee hours of the morning? But it wasn’t until after the two of you began sleeping together that you fully understood the extent of Piers’ problems. He had insomnia, that much was clear, and tended to become restless in the hours that you normally retired to bed. He claimed that all of his best ideas came to him late in the night, and would spend hours scribbling in his trusty journal while you cluelessly snoozed away next to him. Upon discovering this, you felt somewhat guilty, but he assuaged your worries by waxing poetic about how your soothing presence provided him with endless inspiration—that even while asleep, you helped organize his frenzied, haphazard thoughts long enough to translate them into song (and no matter how many times he admitted it, hearing how much you effected his music never failed to make you blush like a starstruck teen).

After moving in together, and as your domestic routines began to blend, so did your sleeping habits. It was surprisingly easy to get Piers into bed with you, you discovered. You simply had to tip-toe down to his basement studio and subdue him with a gentle kiss to the neck, along with some soft words teasing the shell of his ear. Though your schedules were not entirely in sync, as you had very different jobs, your sleepless songbird was finally getting some well-deserved rest. Gone were the mornings spent opening Spikemuth’s Gym, and spending most of the day prepping Gym Trainers, training Pokemon, and fighting rambunctious, overly-confident Gym Challengers, who often underestimated the rockstar’s abilities, much to your frustration. Now that he was a full-time musician, his workday didn't begin until late into the afternoon, and his concerts would often go late into the night. During your busiest times, when your Champion duties required you to be up at sunrise, you would have to bow out early most nights, feeling guilty when you could only support your boyfriend’s gigs about half of the time. Of course, in typical Piers fashion, he was endlessly understanding, and there was nothing quite as sweet as the feeling of going to bed alone, only to wake up and find him exhaustedly cuddled up next you, face buried into your chest or the small of your back (along with your menagerie of Pokemon, which, due to many of them being simultaneously competitive and cuddly, the two of you had to make a schedule for which Pokemon got to share the bed on certain nights).

You never expected Piers to be such a massive cuddler, but you very much welcomed it. At the beginning of your relationship, you suspected that Piers was averse to touch, as he tended to tense or not entirely reciprocate when you first began kissing or embracing him. You soon discovered that this was far from the truth, and that the poor guy simply wasn’t used to the type of affection you so enthusiastically showered upon him. Once the two of you lived together, it became increasingly obvious that he adored and craved your touch, often snuggling up against you and draping his arms around you when asleep. You also learned, that despite having trouble falling asleep, once Piers was securely in dreamland, it was almost impossible to wake him. On most mornings, escaping his Bewear-like grasp was your first Champion challenge of the day. On top of being a heavy sleeper, he was also a heavy sleep-talker. This rarely bothered you, in fact, you enjoyed having full conversations with him while he was none the wiser, with topics ranging from Marnie’s homework, Obstagoon’s yearly PokeCenter check-up, scheduling future gigs (he often mistook you for his manager in his sleep-addled stupor), and other silly, mundane things. He never remembered any of it, no matter how much you tried to jog his memory (he once mumbled out an imaginary itinerary for your future wedding—you never told him this, but it was a secret you held near and dear to your heart). There were many mornings where you would lie next to him, mindlessly scrolling through your phone or checking your emails, only for him to jolt half-awake, ask you, groggily, to write something down (usually an idea for a song), then immediately plop back down onto his pillow, snoring comically.

Those mornings were much like this one: quiet, unassuming—where you would debate for several minutes on whether you were gracious enough to let him sleep in, or impatient enough to wake him. You weren’t exactly in a hurry to get out of bed, as this was one of your rare days off, and the warmth radiating from Piers’ body, the welcoming scent of his lingering cologne, and the light pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the massive structure overhanging Spikemuth was enough to tempt you back into sleep. Your head rested under your boyfriend’s chin, your face close to the base of his neck, and you gently brought one hand up to trace a finger along the smooth metal of his collar, which he rarely removed. You weren’t sure if it was because he never wanted to, or if he simply forgot it was there, and either sounded like him, if you were being honest. Yawning quietly, you nudged your head back, wanting to get a better view of Piers’ sleeping face. Your bedroom happened to have a window facing the outside of Spikemuth’s container, allowing the diffused morning light to bathe your room in an overcast veil. He seemed to be sleeping soundly, despite his perpetually-grumpy expression still present, if somewhat more relaxed. You smiled to yourself, remembering when you first admitted to him, early in your friendship, that you assumed he hated you because of how he always seemed to look annoyed around you. “Hate to break it to ya, love, but that’s just my face,” he said then, making you feel embarrassed for assuming the worst about him, but also somewhat flustered that he referred to you as “love”. Back then, you wanted to write it off as one of his many Spikemuth-isms—that perhaps it was just a more casual nickname where he was from—but here you were, proven wrong.

Sighing softly, you looked over his sleeping form, admiring the way the stormy glow highlighted his features. You had always found him both incredibly adorable and handsome, despite the things he would say about himself in hushed tones on his worst days. His large, sad blue eyes, though closed for now, paired nicely with his high cheek bones and dark, striking eyebrows. You drew the tip of your index finger down the bridge of his nose, slightly crooked from the handful of times he had broken it in his youth, through back-alley scuffles and far-too-wild concerts. You tried not to giggle when the muscles in his face twitched as you reached the tip, giving it an extra boop for good measure. And, of course, you loved his mouth, the way his lips felt so soft and inviting against your own, the way they curled into the most adorable little smiles. The way they felt against your skin, at your wrists, the dip of your neck, across your shoulders, between your breasts, down your stomach, flush against your sensitive, needy heat, along with his overly-generous tongue.

Oh.

Suddenly and without warning, you really wanted him. Biting your lip, you didn’t wish to disturb the musician’s peaceful slumber, nor did you want him to spend the energy on reciprocating, which you knew he would insist upon (it was difficult to get him to be the least bit selfish about his own pleasure). Not to mention, you were still fairly groggy yourself, but you were equally as longing for your boyfriend, and the way his body would react to your loving, methodical touches, the way his beautiful voice would sound upon waking up in the throes of pleasure. Then, you remembered something. It was an idea the two of you had discussed before, whispers of heated fantasies in the dead of night, something that you had been waiting to act upon, but only at the right time, when it would truly be a surprise. Well, now was as good a time as any, you thought, smiling mischievously to yourself.

Ever-so-slowly, you wriggled out of Piers’ all-encompassing grasp, trying desperately not to laugh at how ridiculous you looked—arms firmly pressed to your sides, legs squeezed together, shifting yourself to-and-fro like a newly-hatched Caterpie. Once free, you sat up on your knees, careful to not shake the bed with your movements. Next came the difficult part, you thought, as he was on his side, and you needed him to be on his back for your plan to work. Placing one hand gently on his shoulder, and the other on his hip, you subtly began nudging him onto his back. You almost startled when he suddenly moved, shifting onto his back of his own accord. You winced internally, fully prepared for him to stir awake and be reasonably confused as to why you were leaning over him, but he quickly settled back into sleep, completely oblivious to the waking world. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, smiling at the silly, dramatic, sprawled-out position you boyfriend had assumed.

Carefully, you straddled his waist, making sure to place most of your weight onto your knees. Since the weather was getting warmer, even in the rainy, coastal town of Spikemuth, the both of you were sparsely clothed, with Piers completely bare, save for a thin pair of briefs. Looking him over, you watched the slow rise-and-fall of his chest, and admired the way his long, thick, two-toned hair cascaded down his pillow, descending into rivulets of stark white and midnight black against your bedsheets. He had just showered the previous night, which meant it was extra soft and fluffy, and just messy enough to make him look even more attractive, without risk of becoming a tangled mess. From your angle, you took the time to appreciate his slender frame, which you found endlessly attractive. You loved everything about him, from his prominent collarbones, to his flat chest, to the slight indents of his ribcage traveling down to the smooth plane of his abdomen, punctuated by his sharp hip bones. It took everything in you to not draw your hands up his torso, feeling every muscle and the occasional edge of bone beneath your eager touch. You frowned slightly, remembering how he would occasionally jab at himself, stating that he looked like a skeleton or a walking corpse at times. Though you knew he was joking, at least for the most part, you were adamant on reminding him just how much you adored his body, which was something that simultaneously baffled and flattered him. Your effortless and brutally honest compliments never failed to turn him sheepish, avoiding your gaze and hiding his warm cheeks behind his long, thick bangs. And you would keep reminding him, again and again, that he was plenty attractive, even if you needed to give him a a few more hands-on demonstrations to prove it, which you were more than happy to provide.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned over him, slowly placing your hands on either side of his head. Leaning down, you simply couldn’t resist brushing your lips against his own, just the softest, feather-light touch, holding yourself back from diving in and kissing him blissfully awake. Moving down, you grazed your lips across his neck, planting a gentle kiss at the base, right beneath his choker, noting the faint, yet sharp scent of leftover hair product, and the smooth, silky scent of mild soap. You left a trail of soft kisses across his collarbone, smiling into his skin as you noticed goosebumps appearing at your touch, then moved down to his chest, leaving a few kisses over his sternum before boldly swiping your tongue over one of his nipples. He flinched, and you looked up at his face, fearing the worst, but he simply turned his head to the side and settled back into sleep, breathing deeply. You could have imagined it, but you thought his cheeks took on a slightly rosy tint, contrasting with his normally pale complexion.

Continuing your journey downward, you lavished his soft belly with loving kisses and the occasional warm, gentle sweep of your tongue. Reaching the top of his hips, you nuzzled the soft, dark hair trailing down from his navel into the waistband of his briefs, before shifting your body down between his knees. You gingerly spread his thighs apart with your fingertips, lying down onto your stomach and slowly shimmying yourself forward, fitting comfortably between his long legs. Kissing up his soft inner thighs, you began to apply more pressure, teasing the sensitive skin with the edges of your teeth. You journeyed further upward, sucking on a particularly sensitive patch of skin that made his legs twitch beneath you. Hearing him exhale, you looked up, noticing as his breathing became slightly more labored. With a satisfied grin, you reached up with one hand, lightly palming the growing bulge beneath the soft fabric of his briefs. You adored the way Piers’ body reacted to even the slightest, most teasing touches, and the fact that you could make him feel so good so easily was a massive turn-on. It certainly helped boost your confidence—not to mention, seeing the handsome musician thoroughly enjoy himself never failed to make you weak in the knees.

It only took a few moments for your boyfriend to grow hard and wanting beneath your ministrations. You released him from his briefs, taking a moment to admire his cock in all its unapologetic glory. You suddenly remembered his reaction to you the first time you saw it. You must have been making some kind of face, because he immediately interjected with, “It’s not that big, is it?”, to which you replied, “Oh, ‘It’s not that big, is it?’,” playfully mocking his accent for good measure, “Mr. Humble over here with ‘It’s not that big’. Seriously?” you smiled and rolled your eyes as your boyfriend laughed. You then told him it was pretty, which made him laugh even harder, but you were being completely serious. It was big, as in long, but not too girthy, and as pale as he was, save for the last half, which was flushed pink (it was actually quite similar to the rest of him, now that you thought about it). It also never failed to make you feel so full and satisfied, hitting all the spots inside of you that made you whimper and squirm. You wanted to be re-acquainted, preferably soon, but for now, you had other plans.

You decided to tease him a little more before fully indulging yourself, drawing the soft pad of your index finger up the underside of his shaft before circling it around the tip, taking your sweet time to feel every dip and curve. His breathing grew heavier, and now you could see that his cheeks were fully flushed, his brow tensing slightly as you all but tickled his aching cock. Licking a stripe up your hand, you gently wrapped it around him, keeping your grip loose enough as to not overwhelm his senses right away. Stroking him slowly, you lavished the rest with gentle kisses, reveling in the way his hips twitched and his breath stuttered once you began swirling your tongue around the tip. He was so warm, and you felt him throb beneath your hand, his hips practically jolting in place when you gave the tip a generous squeeze. You briefly wondered if he was dreaming, and if so, if he was dreaming about you.

Watching, enamored, as the tip began to leak clear pre-cum, you felt a hunger welling up deep within your chest and between your legs. You slowly began to take him into your mouth, securely holding his hips down in case he unconsciously thrusted up inside of you (though you weren’t opposed to the idea, you didn’t want him to wake up to the sound of you gagging). You took him down about half way, before delaying his gratification by withdrawing and, again, swirling your tongue around the tip. His entire body shifted this time, a soft, tired, breathless moan escaping his lips, sending a sharp pang of arousal deep into your lower belly. Your brain grew foggy, a wave of lust and adoration clouding your thoughts as you took him all the way, brow furrowed in concentration, wrangling in your gag reflex once the tip hit the back of your throat. He moaned again, and if it wasn’t the most beautiful, erotic sound. His voice was already gorgeous under normal circumstances, but especially in the morning, when it was tinged with the slightest bit of gravel and honey-like richness. It made you feel hopelessly needy, your own arousal, slick and hot, pooling between your thighs.

You continued with the same action, slowly taking him until he hit the back of your throat, then withdrawing, listening intently to the way his moans became more haggard and desperate—until about the fifth time, when you pulled him in completely, daring to swallow around him and practically choke yourself on his cock. You heard him gasp, a startled moan escaping him as you felt a hand grip the back of your head. Well, good morning, you thought, trying not to smile or laugh with a cock stuffed halfway down your throat. You drew up off of him, your eyes connecting with his sparkling blue ones, his pupils blown wide, noting how his adorable flush had spread up to his ears and down his neck. Before he could say anything, you took him again, setting a more intense pace now that he was awake.

“Fuck—,” he groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he carded his long, slender fingers through your hair, his other hand clinging to the one holding his hip. You laced your fingers through his own as you drew up off of him again, sucking on the tip almost obscenely before licking a firm stripe up the underside of his shaft.

“So good, love,” he praised, shuddering as he threw his head back onto the pillows, taking a handful of your hair and tugging slightly. Pulling him back into the slick heat of your mouth, you moaned around him, his breathless praise making your heart flutter. Feeling him throb inside of you, you moaned again, breathing out through your nose, before bracing yourself and taking him as far as you could go, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He practically convulsed, making a delicious choked, startled noise when you felt him spill down your throat—hot, musky, and not entirely unpleasant. He held your head firm to him as he rode out his orgasm, a string of curses, praises, and broken moans leaving his exhausted body, before you tapped him twice on the hip, indicating that you needed to breathe.

“Ah, sorry—!” he startled, releasing you as you practically gasped for air, settling back onto your knees. He leaned up, reaching out to cradle your face with one hand, drawing a thumb along your cheekbone before hooking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His gentle touch made you shudder, closing your eyes as you steadied your breathing. Upon hearing your name, you opened them again, your heart swelling at your boyfriend’s tired gaze and dopey, lovestruck grin.

“I… I just—,” he started, stumbling over his syllables, drawing a hand back through his messy hair, “You— you’re so— ah, fuck it,” he gave up on words and decided to just pull you up into his lap instead. You laid on top of him, chest flush against his own as he drew you into a lazy, tender kiss, and you couldn’t help but hum at the way he slid his tongue lovingly between your lips. Cradling your chin, he broke the kiss, staring deep into your eyes.

“I love you,” he practically whispered, and you felt your face heat under his intense gaze. Suddenly feeling shy, despite the filthy things you just did to him, you hid your face into the crook of his neck.

“I… I love you too,” you squeaked. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, and you could feel the vibrations of his voice beneath your flushed cheeks.

Sighing, you settled into him, listening to the rain and breathing in his warm scent as he came down from his high. You had almost dozed off again when he suddenly spoke.

“Ya know, if ya want me to do somethin’ for ya, I could—“

“Not right now,” you hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, “Can we just stay like this, for a while?”

“Of course,” he replied, voice gentle and smooth as silk. He felt you smile against him, before you yawned dramatically, nuzzling further into him. He began tracing soothing circles into your back, sending tingles down your spine, and you quickly fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.

#piers x reader #piers pokemon x reader #piers #piers pokemon #swsh #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #pokemon piers x reader #pokemon piers #pokemon

332 notes · View notes

jzixuans · 4 years

Note

Blink I beg of you to please give us more of that beautiful Roceit, Roman is so pretty my little heart can't take it I need to know what happens to these lovestruck fools.

ooh boyzee let’s see i don’t think i planned much beyond that comic but since you asked so nicely

(this is about 2.2k in bullet fic, with warnings for burns, scars, and corrupt rich people in power)

maybe let’s start with how they met because i haven’t detailed out the post-comic events yet

deceit– that’s the name he earned on the streets thanks to his charmingly deceptive personality– is making his rounds again in the bustling marketplace, looking for any unsuspecting nobles that won’t miss a ring or two

he makes eye contact with those he passes, smiling handsomely, and they can’t help but falter when they lock onto those stunning golden eyes

he’s talented like that, knowing just how to capture his victims’ attention and not have it at all

later, they’ll recount eyes like gold and a dazzling smile, and nothing else that could identify the snake in the shadows

he tips his hat and bids them a good day with a polite bow then disappears back into the crowd, his pocket giving off the slightest jingle from the coin pouches he nabbed

he weaves his way through with practiced ease and he spies a handful of guards surrounding someone wearing the rich, bright, telltale garb of the inner circles of the royal court

jackpot

as he nears his mark, he sees that they’re wearing the deep purple of the king’s advisors; one of the two youngest to ever hold such a position, but from the back of their head, he can’t tell which one

but he notices that they’re jittery, nervous even, as they complete their transaction at the table piled high with old books

deceit pretends to occupy himself at the neighbouring stall, a gentle old woman offering tea

the guards watch him, but he catches their eyes, nods, and hands the woman silver pieces from his stolen coin purse and accepts his tea

the guards resume their posts and pay him no mind

when he turns to walk away from the stall, he slides his hand into the pocket of the advisor

this is where he makes his mistake

the advisor, more vigilant than nervous it appears, catches his wrist in a vice grip, glaring down at him. then he throws deceit back into the stall, sending him crashing into the pot of boiling water

he’s only narrowly able to avoid the water reaching his eye

his body feels like fire is eating at it from all ends

as he writhes in pain he sees regret, pity, and concern flash across the advisor’s face

he’s hauled to his feet by two of the guards, the others have their hands at their hips, ready to draw their swords

around them, the busy marketplace has stilled, and they’ve gained an audience

the guard on his right rifles through his pockets and pulls out the rest of his stolen goods

one man pushes his way to the front of the crowd and points at him angrily

“he stole my wedding ring!” he exclaims

“he took my mother’s bracelet!” another cries

and soon several members of the crowd are shouting their accusations at him

the advisor raises a hand to silence them

another guard announces, “for thievery of countless riches, and attempted robbery of councilman virgil wang, you will face trial and the consequent punishment before king thomas”

the next thing he knows, he’s being muscled into a carriage, then paraded through the castle halls

“see to it that he’s treated by a doctor,” councilman virgil tells the one holding him, sending him a look that’s almost… guilty

normally, he’d be alert, mapping out the castle grounds waiting for the opportune moment to make his escape, but right now the only thing on his mind is holding back the tears in front of the guards

the doctor sweeps in with a mug larger than life, filled to the brim with what smells like coffee. deceit flinches

“alright hon, let’s get you patched up,” the doctor sighs. they tilts their tinted glasses down to take in the sorry state of his face

they hold a cool cloth to his burns and it’s like a balm. he can’t help but sigh in relief

“what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“don’t call me that”

“well if you’d give me your name, i wouldn’t have to”

“what makes you think you’ve earned the right to know my name?” deceit snaps

“is attending to your wounds not enough?” the doctor tsks as they peel the cloth away and reach for a jar of salve. their hands are rough and calloused, but still they treat deceit with a gentle touch that he hasn’t known in quite some time

deceit doesn’t answer them

“i mean i know who you are, you’ve probably robbed about of a third of the castle by now. not surprised that virgil caught you, he was probably born sleeping with one eye open. but still, a name for the legendary thief of crane would be nice,” the doctor prattles on. deceit let’s them chatter on about everything and nothing, sitting still as a rock while the doctor applies the rest of the bandages

“now i know you’re all chained up, but just in case the king let’s your hands go free, don’t go ripping off those bandages or your next visit here you’ll have to pay me by telling me your name,” the doctor warns with a wink. “good luck on your trial sweetheart, and may the fates smile kindly upon your future.”

deceit’s led out of the room by his attending guards then pushed through the doors to the main hall where he lands on his knees at the foot of the throne

the king is flanked by his advisors– deceit recognizes councilman virgil’s stony gaze– and his adoptive son, the crown prince

deceit doesn’t dare lift his head for anything more than the fleeting glance he got at them

“dante evan feng, also known as deceit, the snake in the shadows, thief of crane, you have been arrested stealing from the royal court and nobility on numerous occasions, and for attempted thievery from a member of the high council,” an advisor to the left of the king recites. he’s wearing the same purple robes as virgil– the other youngest advisor– with large round glasses and long black hair held back in a braid. his voice is cold and monotonous as he reads off the rest of deceit’s charges

“how do you plead?” he asks

deceit lifts his head, a defiant “not guilty!” ready on his tongue, but he sees virgil shake his head, and then sees the crown prince, gorgeous and resplendent, brows pinched in concern, shake his head

“you would do well to answer truthfully. in this court, honesty is rewarded, corruption will be condemned.” king thomas says

so deceit lifts his chin a little higher, and says, “guilty, your majesty, but with good reason”

“elaborate”

“i’ve seen the members of your court laugh at the beggars in your streets as they crawl on their knees to pick up every last penny. they turn their backs on those who need them. they don’t deserve their riches,” dante snarls. the prince winces under his glare

sadness paints itself into the king’s expression, but he keeps his voice steady. “and how have you spent your stolen wealth?”

“they went back to those who should have had it in the first place”

the advisor in the glasses narrows his eyes. “were you one of those such people?”

“i used the gold to buy goods from local businesses to support my lifestyle and theirs. i don’t see how that is such a crime”

the advisor arches a single eyebrow, then turns to his colleague. “councilman wang, you were a target of his today, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

“he didn’t get away with stealing from me, we’ve apprehended him, and he’s already been wounded. i have faith that whatever punishment his majesty decides for him will be just.” virgil says, so low dante almost doesn’t hear it

the king sits up. he’s made his decision

“dante, in place of punishment, i offer you a chance to work for all that you stole. you will work here, at the castle. you will be given food, clothes, and a room to live in. having you here will give me the opportunity to consult your advice on how to go about resolving the corruption in my court. does this sound fair? should you decline my offer, your sentence will be to serve time in prison.” the king says

deceit wants to say no, that he’d rather die than live a life of servitude, but so far, everyone at the castle has shown him mercy, and the chance to rise up to a seat on the king’s council is too tempting to refuse. having the king’s ear will make it far easier to bring about change in the kingdom.

“i accept your gracious offer, your majesty,” he says begrudgingly, though the words taste like ash in his mouth

so he takes on the new position as one of the castle’s groundskeepers, tending to gardens, making sure that everything else is in its proper place

for the first year, he’s confined to working outside only at night, where the harsh light of the sun can’t deal any further damage to his scars (virgil, though still distrustful of him, seeks him out and apologizes a couple weeks after the trial, he only meant to push him away, not send him flying into a pot of boiling water. he’s stronger than his robes make out, it seems)

he also pays the doctor– remy dormeil, he quickly learns– regular visits for more salve and other treatment for his scars. he finds their presence one of the more tolerable ones amongst the court staff

king thomas upholds his promise and allows him to attend some of the meetings with the high council. he plans on venturing out into the smaller villages himself to survey the state of things

then the king throws a birthday party for the prince at the castle. dante’s told that he may join the festivities once his duties are attended to. so he dons the suit that has been left in his closet and makes his way to the ballroom

in the centre, virgil is being led by his fellow advisor in a vivacious dance that leaves them out of breath and full of laughter as they spin around and around each other in a twin orbit

as dante weaves through the crowd in a manner not unlike they way he used to move on the streets, he’s greeted with side eyes and distasteful remarks— many of tonight’s guests were his marks once upon a time, and no one could forget those stunning golden eyes— but he steels himself as he always has, and makes a beeline for the refreshment table, where he may hide his face behind a drink or two

on his way, he slips the bracelet of one particularly snobby woman from her wrist and into his pocket. as he accepts a goblet from one of the waitstaff, he hears a voice from behind him say, “are you going to give that back?”

when he spins around, he comes face to face with the birthday boy himself, prince roman of crane, smirking in amusement

“i mean, she probably deserved it, but she is my second cousin once removed, and i would hate to hear her complain all night at the next family dinner,” he continues. “besides, i’m sure i could find you something more your style,” he adds with a wink

dante huffs and takes a sip of his drink. “i can’t say i know what you’re talking about your highness, but i must add that i have quite expensive taste, so if you plan on following through on that promise, i hope you’re prepared to empty your coffers,” he shoots back with a grin

roman tips his head back and laughs, rich and bellowing

“give it here before you get in trouble, and i’ll just tell her that she’s dropped it. then i’ll make you a deal: if you can behave for the rest of the night, i’ll reward you with some exquisite jewelry of you own.”

dante sighs and drops the bracelet in roman’s outstretched palm

“i’ll take that deal, but only on the condition that you deliver it to me yourself. i tend the garden beneath your balcony twice a week,” he purrs in his ear, then he walks away, leaving a dumbstruck prince behind him, never mind his own blush creeping up his neck (which he promptly blames on his scars when remy sidles up to him)

twice a week in roman’s garden soon turns to three times, then four, then every night he’s slipping out to the garden to throw discarded weeds through roman’s window to relish in his dismay, to chat with him as he makes his rounds, laugh as they try to push each other into the fountain, and distract him with beautiful blooms and twinkling stars as he occupies himself in trying to steal the crown right off his head

he hasn’t succeeded yet, because every time he’s just about to reach for it, roman turns his head, ready with a witty remark or poetic compliment comparing him to the brilliance of the moon’s glow that stops him dead in his tracks

one day, though. one day

and when he does, it isn’t just be roman’s crown that he steals, but his heart as well

#roceit #deceit sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #blink writes #stupid reason au #remy's nb and logan's the other advisor present they're both dating virgil and also each other #and patton's also an advisor he's just out on business #lmao that ending was so cheesy #i just pulled their last names out of an old yearbook #liked feng because it's almost fang #remy's is just a combination of dormir and sommeil though lol #tashi #ask #everybody say thank you tashi for being super sweet with her comments that i actually wrote stuff

338 notes · View notes

mooniehsh · 3 years

Text

Cruel for a soft time

Barbatos taking some time alone with his favorite human

Warnings: fluff (even tho i’m not that good with fluff lmao) and a little of NSFW ( i don’t know how it ended like this, but i’m not sorry)

Enjoy!

-Made by: ACE (MT)

- How did you get that scar? -In the immerse silence, her voice sounded like a bell ringing into the distance, being so intimate the pillow forth the girl made in the comfort of her own room.

- Well... I was very young back then. I was cleaning some things in the room we found in the castle at that moment. I didn’t notice that some thorns were around the bed and closet, and I accidentally put my hand in them while looking for the bed sheets -A funny anecdote now that he thinks of it, how clumsy he was back in that time, and now that he admires the scar on his left hand, his mind roamed with the same feeling he had that day -I was surprised to see it actually, a little strange to say, a demon bleeding for a tiny cut like this...

- It must be painful -His laugh was oddly loud to how he used to be in front of the others, being so melodic to you that now a wide smile formed your lips at the sound the butler made

- It was, it looks like I cut myself with a trap made by another demon, but an ancient one. Lord Diavolo told me about a guest he used to know that helped his father to get revenge on another demon. The whole room was made with the purpose to kill our own kind -She was speechless, making the man smile and laugh again -I didn’t die, I went for help immediately Y/n. -The worry on her was cute, but there was nothing to fear, it was something that happened eons ago

-But... but why Diavolo never told you about the room and let you risk your life cleaning it? -Always so sweet with him, there was no surprise of why the brothers had such affection with her which the butler wanted to himself.

-He didn’t know, that’s why... but that was the past, and it actually helped me to be more cautious -She shrugged, and her fingers got closer to the scar, almost asking for permission that was gladly granted by Barbatos.

It was soft, the hand behind the white glove, tracing over the mark slowly with her digits. It was still visible after all these years, somewhat impressive to see

-What about you? Do you have a scar? -She nodded, picking up her legs so the man could see better the bruise on her skin, lifting slowly her skirt, being careful enough to not show too much. And that was a simple but extravagant sight for Barbatos, delighting himself with little

- Mom said that when I was small I cut myself with a glass. She doesn’t remember how it happend, neither do I but here it is... -It was bigger than his, adorning up her knee, almost fading out of her skin, something mortals used to have now that he notices that small detail

And just like she touched his mark, he did the same. Using his hand to lower her skirt just so he could see it better, getting his fingers to trace the path. No glove, just smoothness of his skin against her, being so gentle and sweet, getting the girl to blush immediately.

- So it seems you were clumsy and naïve since you were a baby- The mocking face and tone made her blush even more, getting into her nerves the embarrassing feeling of her youth coming to her mind.

- I’m not clumsy Sir, not always

-If that’s what you want to believe, then I will let you be- And her pout made him laugh again, getting to know a more open side of the boy, one which she loves to see every time they were alone without anything or anyone interrupting their moment. - Come on, don’t be like that. You know that I don’t lie

- You deceive, therefore, it’s the same -And with that, she hides with a pillow, knowing that the embarrassment she felt will only grow bigger thanks to his next words

- Would you like me to demonstrate you how true my words can be? -the widest smile she received, falling for the pink lips and the serene eyes that inspect her while she covers. And Barbatos couldn’t last too much with the little show, getting lost in the loving cheeks that the woman beholds on her features. Smirking when, from her lips, a little gasp went out, being his hands so gentle to her hips.

The pillow eventually disappears, letting the man get closer and closer to her face, sensing the breathing becoming a mess just like the heat she was feeling on her face.

-If I say that you look cute flustered would you think that I’m trying to deceive you? -Such a lower voice, killing her insides to just grab him and kiss the living hell out of him. So different from when they are surrounded by people, being his touch minimal and his tone of voice so polite and reserved towards her, but with a hint of informality

- How can I know? You are always so mysterious, no one knows what is going through your mind -A grin and playful voice, trying to play in this game where both were the winners. At least, being alone with her gave Barbatos more opportunity to freely mess with the nerves of the girl

- You can do it Y/n, you had done it countless times -Ah, there it was, the opened mouth, eyes drifting around his lips and eyes, making this girl lose control over her body. Feeling hot even when the bath she had an hour ago made her feel fresh like water in mid-summer. Her hair wasn’t even dry yet, and there she is, suffering from such heat on her face - I don’t think I have to respond for you, am I?

- No, you don’t have to... -The slight touch of his lips over her skin was enough to make her whimper, so sensitive under the boy who now kept his hands on her cheeks, biting his lips while the eyes of his lover couldn´t stop looking at it.

- Then why are you so impatient? -Such a laugh that those pink lips let it out was enough for her to look at him with a pout, noticing how dangerously close her mouth was from him. The desired to kiss the butler was painfully beautiful for the girl, so close but so far away, she only wanted to just grab him and end this game. But her hands didn’t respond when the boy grabbed her wrists with softness under his fingers

- No words pretty angel? -She shook her head, closing her eyes, feeling the beautiful smirk Barbatos had placed on his face, finally closing the distance between them.

The warmest of her lips grew the flame that this man has for her, savoring the sweetness on her mouth, delighted to let go of the grip and feel the hands of his lover putting him close.

Breathy whimpers out of their lips, creating a bubble inside the pillow fort, making the intimate air of the place such a perfect paradise... her heart couldn´t stop jumping on her chest, with the sweat of her palms and body running through her every time those gentle fingers traced the exposed skin

-Now you will say that I’m a liar? -She didn’t care anymore about what they were talking about before, biting her lips, shaking her head, and embracing him again with another kiss.

One was not acceptable, two was not enough, a third one... god, they were a mess with a gracious sight to behold. Barbatos took his time to devour her lips, going after for her cheeks, whispering littles “love you” every time his mouth left the softness of Y/n skin. And eventually, her neck was the next prey, going slowly on her, smiling for himself every time that little moan sounded from those lips he loves so much

-You are cruel...

-I’m not my love, I only want to praise you with my touch, is that bad for you? -Little bites on her skin, being so obvious the tease on his voice and the way she mumbles a low ‘no’ for only him to hear. - You see? I’m not like you say I am, pretty angel -and their lips started another round of kisses, feeling numb already of the interactions they had, but for them, it wasn’t enough.

It's Barbatos's break, when he can finally spend time with her and he was enjoying it like never before. Reaching with one of his hands her hip, sensing the girl legs wrapping around his waist, feeling more heat around their bodies, something so perfect like a painting. How many times he craved for this moment? looking at her from the distance, imagining how those hands would hold him like now...

- Y/n, have you seen Barbatos? They are looking for him -But everything has its ends, and this intimate moment was the first one. She didn’t have to push him or say something, the man already spoke while putting his gloves back, looking at her with a soft smile and apologetic gaze

It was a shame, the bubble was a new paradise and time didn’t let them have it fully on their hands

- Is the meeting over?- Even his breathy tone desired to keep the bubble...

-Yes, that’s what Luci told me -and before Asmo opened the door, Barbatos stole a little kiss from her, murmuring his return later or tomorrow. He didn’t even allow her to say something, leaving immediately, not letting the avatar of lust say hi to him.

God, she felt so flustered now, noticing that her skirt was a little higher than it was before. Unfortunately, Asmo catch what was going on, too proud of the girl if I’m being honest

-Wait, did you and him...? Girl, you must talk right now -He wasn’t going to accept a no as an answer right? Yeah, no... him closing the door and hiding with her in the pillow fort was enough to say that he wanted so badly to hear the little action both of you had in your room. Innocent, but not that much...

- Do you want the short or the full version...?

33 notes · View notes

anywhozits · 3 years

Text

Kristoff’s Favorite Christmas Present

Rating: G

Words: 4583

Verse: Canonverse

Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Anna has a plan to give Kristoff the best present of all time. Naturally she must enlist the help of her magical sister and twin daughters.

READ ON AO3 HERE

“I’m sorry—you put the peppermint where?” Anna gasped, stopping her frantic Christmas present rearranging to stare wide-eyed at her daughter.

Two-and-a-half-year-old Iduna’s lower lip curled as she whispered, “Reindeer’s nose?”

“Reindeer…” Anna furrowed her eyebrows. “Sven’s nose?”

Iduna bobbed her head up and down, and Anna couldn’t help but laugh despite feeling mighty sorry for Sven.

“Duna!”

She shrugged. “He was hungry!”

Anna laughed again, dropping to her knees to explain calmly, “Hungry means you should put the peppermint into his mouth, not his nose. Nose is for smelling. Mouth is for eating. Let’s get this sorted out, okay? Why don’t you go with…” Anna’s eyes scanned the entire room for somebody—anybody—to lead this expedition, but they all looked more than busy.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Kristoff. The reminder that he was only minutes away from opening his Christmas present was enough to send an excited tingle down her spine.

Her wonderful husband had his arms full carrying their other twin, Asta, while also trying to balance Elsa’s presents. Anna could hear Asta’s adorable squeal, “Papa, papa! Booger tastes gingerbread-y!”

Anna chuckled. Oh, Asti…

For fear of spoiling everything prematurely, Anna had to look away, thus noticing that only one person—well, snowman, appeared not otherwise occupied. Smiling widely all the way, Olaf hobbled around the room, greeting everyone he saw with a wave of his twig arm and a repeated “Oh, I just love the holidays!”

“Olaf!”

“Oh, hi, Anna! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas! Hey, can you take Iduna to find Sven? I think he might have a peppermint stuck up his nose…”

“Gotta put mouth! Sven hungry!” Iduna reached out to grab Olaf’s hand.

“Gotcha!” He said, giving Anna a wink. “Why, hello, Princess Duna. Looks like we were both on the nice list this year?” Olaf gestured to the mountains of presents under the tree. Each member of the family had a different wrapping paper color to help differentiate the gifts. Olaf’s, for instance, was blue, centrally featuring several friendly snowmen. Both Iduna and Asta, however, had already opened their presents when they woke up at the literal crack of dawn. The carnage of red and gold wrapping paper now sat in massive piles in the corner of the ballroom.

Iduna let out a high-pitched laugh. “Ya!”

As Anna watched them walk away, she let out a sigh. Still so much to prepare… and she started to feel so nervous and excited (hah—nervecited) all over again.

Her eyes drifted to Kristoff once more and then all the butterflies in her stomach unleashed themselves at once. She needed to look away. Nervecited. Yup. Still couldn’t look at Kristoff. Noted.

“Els!” Her sister, instead, provided the perfect distraction.

“Yes, Anna?” Elsa was working diligently on her ice sculptures, finishing up the last details of the ice sleigh she loved featuring as a centerpiece.

“Are you—you know what we’re gonna do? You know the plan?”

Elsa smiled. “Yep. I’ve got it.”

“Okay. Good—great.”

“You feeling all right?”

“Yes, actually. Just—”

“Nervecited?”

“Uh-huh.”

Elsa gave Anna a gentle nudge. “You don’t have to wait much longer, you know.”

And then Anna sighed. “It feels like I’ve already waited too long.”

“Why don’t we get on with it, then?”

“Okay. Yeah. Okay. That’s a good idea. Why wait anymore, right? We can… we can just go for it. Celebrate! He’ll want to celebrate, right? We’ll all celebrate?”

“Definitely!”

“Definitely, right! God, I’m so excited! Wanna grab the girls? I sent Iduna off with Olaf to find Sven and fix his nose—"

"Fix his—?"

"And once they’re back—”

“Oh! They’re here!”

Turning around, Anna saw her daughter and Olaf quickly approaching, both of them moving about in a clumsy pattern due to their collectively short legs.

“Mama!” Iduna called. “Sven love peppermint—no hungry more!” Anna giggled as she picked Duna up and snuggled her.

“Thank you for doing that, sweetie.”

“Welcome, Mama!”

“I’m happy that he loved it,” Anna said. Afterwards, Iduna tightened her hold on Anna and snuggled in close, popping her left thumb into her mouth and sucking gently. Anna kissed the top of her blonde hair.

“Shall we get started on our present for Papa?”

Iduna’s head nodded a couple times.

Okay—it was time. Nervecited. But now, way more excited than nervous.

Just one more twin to round up…

“Asti!”

She heard a little bit of a moan or a groan or maybe even an excited squeal and turned to see Asta stuffing her face with most, if not all, of the chocolate from her stocking. Her mouth was so stuffed that barely any sound could make it out.

There was also heaps and heaps of melted chocolate on her hands and her cheeks and her lips. She was a chocolate mess.

But Anna loved it. She didn’t even mind when Asti took her hand and all that melted chocolate squished between them.

“We’re gonna give Papa his present, okay?”

“Mmm!” Her mouth was still so full of chocolate.

Elsa soon joined them next to the tree, bouncing up and down in her own excitement. She took Asta’s other hand.

“Okay!” Anna shouted. “It’s time to finish opening presents!” Excited, excited! Nervous—nervecited. Excited! Anna’s mind and heart utterly couldn’t pick an emotion today. “Kris, you’re next!”

He strolled toward her with an amused smirk, kissing the twins’ foreheads before bringing in his wife for a tender smooch.

“I told you not to get me anything,” he said as he snaked an arm around her waist.

Anna laughed. “Oh, hush! You know we’d never listen to a request as ridiculous as that!”

“Besides, Kristoff, you’re gonna love it,” Elsa explained. “Right, Anna? He’s gonna love it?”

“You’re gonna love it,” Anna confirmed.

“Okay,” he said, kissing his wife yet again. “I’m intrigued.”

Anna absolutely beamed before handing Iduna over to Elsa. Elsa immediately placed her gently on the floor next to her twin. Iduna looked up at her aunt with her big cerulean eyes and kept sucking on her thumb.

The three of them—Elsa, Iduna, and Asta—then formed a circle. Elsa got on her knees, trying to remain at eye level of the two-and-a-half-year-old twins. She whispered something into both of their ears, and they smiled. Iduna freed her thumb from her mouth.

“Remember what I told you yesterday—think really, really hard about what you want to do. Picture it in your head. Concentrate… on what you want to create and how much you love your mama and your papa.”

“Auntie, too!” Asta added.

Elsa hesitated. “Oh—I… if you want to think of that, too, then—yes. You can… you can think of Auntie Elsa, too.”

“Love you!” Asta squealed, making Elsa blush.

“And I love you, too. Both of you!” Elsa booped the girls on their noses and they giggled. “Okay—are you ready?”

Both Asta and Iduna nodded and joined hands. To harness the full strength of their magic properly they needed to share it. Either they used their powers together or one relinquished the powers temporarily to the other. It’s a twin thing. And given their May Day birthday, their power must be spring themed…

Branches came to life, flowing across the room with an elegant choreography. The branches weaved together to form the shape of a wicker bassinet. The twins controlled nature—springtime nature—the earth, really. Flowers, dirt, trees, the like. The other side of Elsa’s powers.

As the girls finished their bassinet, Elsa swirled her own hands together to create the final touch—a baby made out of permafrost and ice, connected to the twins’ creation. Complete with a lovely semi-circle arrangement that allowed this piece to hang on a Christmas tree.

Ta-da, Elsa gestured. “It’s an ornament!”

“For you, baby,” Anna added as she gave her husband a slight nudge.

“Auntie Belsa! Up, please!” Iduna reached her hands out to Elsa, who happily lifted her up. Somehow, Elsa and Iduna looked more like twins than Iduna and Asta did. Truly the only key difference was that Iduna had slightly darker more-Kristoff-than-Elsa blonde hair.

Meanwhile, Asta plopped down to the floor to start licking chocolate off her hands and her face. She had more of the Kristoff genes—kind brown eyes and a fierce nose. But her face was still covered in Anna’s freckles.

“It’s beautiful,” Kristoff said. “I love that Elsa taught our daughters how to use their powers to make this.”

Anna sighed. If he hadn’t mentioned… did he really not get it? Or … was this an actually a super dumb idea akin to those first few supposedly impossible charades hints that Elsa and Olaf couldn’t get?

Kristoff gave thankful kisses to his daughters and a gracious hug to his sister-in-law. “I mean it. Elsa, you’ve clearly taught them so well. They already have such good control over their powers.”

“Well,” Elsa shrugged. “They’ve got a lot of love in their lives.”

Okay—fine. Time to push a little more. Anna urged, “Sooo, what do you think this ornament is?”

Kristoff looked at her curiously. “What?”

“Like, what’s… what’s in the ornament? What’s the theme? Who’s the baby?”

“Oh—well…it’s a nativity ornament, right?”

Both Anna and Elsa exchanged confused glances before bursting out into laughter.

“What? This is … baby Jesus, right?” Kristoff continued. “The nativity… it’s Christmas.”

Elsa buried her head in her hand and Anna groaned, clarifying, “It’s not a… it’s not a nativity ornament…”

“I can see why you’d think that, though, Kristoff,” Elsa said. “Because, well, it is Christmas. We probably should’ve given this a bit more thought.”

Anna’s heart skipped a beat. All right. Time for Plan B.

She scurried to the tree and pulled out a present wrapped in Kristoff themed red reindeer paper. “Here. This one’s from me.”

Kristoff gave it a couple hearty shakes, then he ran his hands along the creases. “Feels like a book.” Next he brought it up to his face to take a closer look. “Looks like a book.” And, finally, sniffed it. “Smells like a book.”

This was it. The present was obvious—clear. No room for misinterpretation this time.

Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod it was about to happen.

“OPEN IT!” Anna yelled, unable to contain her excitement anymore.

He tore off the paper quickly and started smiling at a black leather notebook. “Thank you, baby. You know I love a good notebook.”

“There’s something inside, Kris!” Anna eagerly explained. “You should read it.”

Giving his wife a curious look, Kristoff opened the notebook.

The second he allowed himself to read the words written in Anna’s script, his jaw dropped.

Baby Bjorgman Number 3

Week 8: Baby’s the size of a kidney bean

-Feeling great overall! Shocker!

-Little bit of nausea when smelling onions

-Truly disgusting amount of saliva in the mouth. Need to spit every 2 seconds

-Kinda tired? Maybe? From baby or from queen things?

-Super weird, vivid dreams about Sven dancing in a tutu. Like, every night.

He was silent—in shock. When he looked up, finally, Anna beamed at him. “See, it wasn’t Baby Jesus. It was—”

Before Anna could finish the thought, she flew in the air. Kristoff lifted her up and twirled her around—his signature move.

He had done the same when she told him she was pregnant the first time, and it meant so much to Anna that he was just as excited this time around.

As Kristoff brought her back to the ground, he kept his hands around her waist and then drew her in for a tender yet passionate kiss. One of his large hands dropped to her stomach to caress her nonexistent baby bump.

“Our little bean!” He kissed her again. “This is the best Christmas present I’ve ever—and it’s even more special since you, Elsa, and the girls worked on this together. With the magic and the ornament, and, obviously, the journal you made.”

“Yay—good! I thought this would be fun! You know—since we surprised Elsa last time, I thought it only fair we return the favor. Really get you good.”

He smiled and said, “You got me real good. I had no idea, honest. I can’t say I didn’t hope but I still didn’t expect it. I take back what I said about not wanting anything for Christmas. This is what I wanted. This is everything I ever wanted.” His hand still rested protectively on Anna’s belly. “How long have you known?”

“Barely a week! I thought I was just late or stressed or something since I’ve been feeling really great, honestly. Maybe this means there’s only one baby this time?”

Kristoff laughed.

“So, you’re happy? You’re excited?”

“Of course, Anna,” he said. “This is the best Christmas present I could ever ask for.”

Tears actually shot out of Anna’s eyes. Her husband was quite literally the perfect human.

Kristoff kissed her again, and he felt it too. Honestly just as emotional as his wife. On the brink of tears. In reality, he had hoped this announcement would come soon. The doctor told them to wait until the twins were at least two before they started trying again, but on their birthday, Anna and Kristoff had decided at least was a useless phrase. Two years would be plenty.

And now, seven months later, their third kid was on the way… 8 weeks on the way already.

When Kristoff pulled away, he suddenly remembered that he and Anna weren’t alone.

“Elsa, I—thank you, again. It means… it’s so much more special now that I know.”

“You’re welcome! It’s been fun to plan. I knew you’d be thrilled.”

Kristoff smiled so genuinely his eyes crinkled. “You know me well. When did you find out?”

“She told me when I got here a few days ago. Well, she said that she thought maybe, but didn’t know for sure.”

“Once the doctor confirmed everything, we started planning this.” Anna had wanted to really surprise Kristoff this time around. She was so anxious and excited and enthusiastic the first time it was nearly impossible for her to keep anything to herself. It all started when she got that weird headache a week before her monthly cycle was due. From that point on, she told Kristoff everything, in great detail. This time, all of her thoughts, feelings, and emotions about being late but without any of her previous symptoms remained barricaded in her mind and her mind only. She really had convinced herself it was nothing more than stress. But even still, given the other-more-exciting thing was definitely a possibility, she had to keep mum. Because she really wanted to surprise him—do something special. And, conveniently, Christmas had been just around the corner.

It shocked Anna that she made it this far, honestly. A perfectly kept secret.

“And you told the twins too?”

“Yep. I told them… although not too sure how much they really understand what’s going on,” Anna laughed. They really did look as confused as ever. “But whatever—I still wanted to make sure our little cuties were involved! And Elsa kept saying that their magic lessons are going so great, too, so I wanted to see!”

Kristoff reached down and took Asta into his arms. She had wholly cleaned herself of the chocolate. Sugar-high very much imminent.

“Asti, you’re gonna be a big sister! How does it feel?”

“I have sister!”

They all laughed.

“You do have a sister. You have Iduna. But this summer—uh, when exactly did they say?”

“Mid-July, probably. Maybe late July. Maybe early August,” Anna responded. “Toss-up between Cancer and Leo baby!”

“Ooh right. That’ll be interesting,” Elsa said. “Honeymaren said she wanted to help me with a full astrological reading whenever you have your next baby. We’ll have some thinking to do before this summer.”

Anna legitimately squealed. “Aww, that’s nice of her! How fun! I love your readings, Els.”

“Thanks.”

“So, wait. Anna, you’re really feeling okay?” Kristoff sounded stunned. Granted, he had to watch her throw up everything she put into her mouth (other than chocolate) for the first almost 15 weeks of her last pregnancy, so his shock was more than founded.

“Uh-huh! It’s super weird. Disorienting, honestly. I can eat real food and not have to worry about tossing it back up later. Although now that I said that I bet it’ll all change and I’m gonna have to throw up all the—ugh, I’m totally jinxing it, aren’t I?”

“Nah, honey. There’s no such thing as a jinx.”

“You’re talking to someone who has a fifth spirit sister, a talking snowman best pal, and also twin daughters with special earthy springtime nature powers,” Anna deadpanned, so much so that Kristoff chuckled. “There are totally such things as jinxes, husband. Totally, totally.”

She was probably right on that one.

“Well I know you’re—ah, guess I shouldn’t say that, with the jinx and everything—but, um, even though you’re—” Kristoff gestured and made noises that sounded like he completed the phrase with ‘feeling great’ without actually saying the words. “But, what would you say if I started up my chocolate collection again?”

“Um, well, obviously I would say the only thing I can say which is… bring it on, baby! I’d love some chocolate. Chocolate sounds amazing right now. Honestly I was about to lick it all off of Asta’s hands until she licked it off herself.”

This got Asti’s attention. “More chocolate?”

“Chocolate for Mama this time! And maybe we’ll save some for you, too, soon-to-be-big-sister.” Anna said while giving Asti’s blonde hair a good ruffle.

In the meantime, Kristoff’s eyes darted quickly to the hutch in the corner of the expansive ballroom and he eyeballed the collection of silverware, trying to locate his favorite chocolate-making spoons. He couldn’t help but note the fact that one of the spoons is distractedly off-kilter. He smirked. “Asti, wanna come with me to get some chocolate, love?”

“Mmhmm!”

And then they were off.

Anna looked around curiously for a second before turning back to Elsa. “Wait, wait, wait, wait. Where did Olaf run off to? Was he even here when Kristoff figured it out?”

“I have no idea.”

“Duna, have you seen Olaf?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Olaf!” Anna called out. “Olaf, are you here? Are you anywhere?”

Nothing.

But then, soon enough, they heard the pitter patter of snowman feet on the wood floors. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!” He was going as fast as he can, holding onto an extremely shoddily wrapped present.

He stopped in his tracks, right in front of Anna, took a bow, and then held up the present to her face. “This one’s for you! And Kristoff!”

“Oh! Thank you, Olaf,” Anna said, taking the present into her hands. “When’d you run off?”

“After you gave Kristoff his gift.”

“Oh—so you—”

“Anna! Chocolate!”

Anna snapped to attention when a bar of sea salt dark chocolate barrels toward her face. She caught it with her left hand thanks to some kind of crazy reflex she didn’t even know she had. “Thank you, husband!”

When she gave Kristoff a gracious look, she noticed that Asta was sucking on some more chocolate. All right. Super, super crazy sugar-rush now even more imminent.

Olaf skipped toward Kristoff. “I have a present for you!”

“Oh, uh—”

“I’ve got it here, Kris,” Anna explained, holding up said present.

“Great!”

Kristoff put Asta down and stood next to his wife, helping her tear open the present. Upon removing the crumpled wrapping paper, a marvelous creation revealed itself.

Adorable blue knit booties. Baby-sized.

Both Anna and Kristoff’s eyes widened to a saucer-like degree. Kristoff started, “Olaf, how did you—”

At the same time that Anna added, “Did you make these yourself?”

“Yup! Made them yesterday—oh boy was I excited when I overheard you and Elsa talking about the new baby! And now I know that babies come from eating a special pie thingie from the trolls, and that they start off really tiny inside you and then they’re born after a really, really long time. And when they’re born, they have little feet that could get cold! So yes, I made these,” Olaf said proudly. “And by the way, I did such a great job keeping the secret—but it was so hard. I told so many rocks and trees and snowballs in the forest. And a couple fish. Oh, and maybe twelve puffins!”

“Those puffins. Surprised they didn’t come blabbing,” Anna joked, giggling. “Well, thank you, Olaf. These are adorable and it’s so sweet that you worked so hard to make them! Baby’s gonna love them. You’re right, they’ll be perfect for keeping baby’s little teeny tiny feet so nice and warm. But, wait… since when do you know how to knit?”

“Just something I’ve picked up with my old age.”

Kristoff raised his eyebrows. “Old age, huh?”

Entertaining Kristoff zero, Olaf narrowed his eyes and waddled closer to Anna. “So the baby’s still really tiny, right?”

“Yes! You could tell if the baby were bigger. Remember last time the babies grew a lot before they were born?”

“Oh, yes, I do remember,” Olaf said. “It looked like you ate Sven!”

Laughs all around.

Then, Asta toddled on over to her snowman best friend. “Play, play with Olaf!”

“I would love to play with you, Princess Asti!”

Iduna started squirming in Elsa’s arms, signaling that she, too, wanted to play. Elsa set her down carefully and Iduna’s legs propelled her toward Olaf at warp speed.

“Hello again, Princess Duna.”

“Olaf!” She ran to give him a hug. “Play!”

“Why, yes, I’d love to play with you too! This is so much fun—playing with the twin big sisters! What should we play?”

Asta started, “Ring around rosie!”

And Iduna chimed in at practically the same time, “Olaf says!”

“Hmm. Both wonderful games! And I bet we have time for both. What should we start with?”

“Ring around the rosie!”

“Olaf says!”

“Huh. A stalemate. How can we solve this? A dance off?”

The girls giggled.

“Or can I choose the order?”

They both stared blankly at Olaf.

“Ring around the rosie first! Sorry, Iduna. We’ll play Olaf says next, okay? And I’ll make it extra special just for you, future-big-sister.”

Asta jumped in the air and ran around in probably twenty circles in excitement. The chocolate evidently hit Asti right at that second.

Eventually, they positioned themselves for game time in the middle of the ballroom, leaving Kristoff, Elsa, and Anna alone by the tree.

Kristoff took this as his opportunity to cozy up to his wife. He usually wouldn’t do this in such a public space. As much as he loved physical touch and affection, he was never one for PDA in the usual sense of the term. But something about today felt different. Something about this whole wonderful and exciting situation felt different.

Immediately he dropped to his knees, and then two large hands grabbed Anna’s still-small waist. First, he ran one hand along her stomach, and then he planted gentle kisses on the place that would grow over the next seven months.

Anna giggled and blushed. She always loved when he did this. It made her feel even a pang of regret that she worked so hard to keep the possible pregnancy a secret. Because she missed out on four weeks of this…

But seeing his wide, surprised, ecstatic eyes… and witnessing their daughters working to make this surprise present happen made it all the worth it. They’d still have time for this. Now, even—now was the perfect time.

And it was, clearly. Kristoff felt it, too. He cooed, “Tiny bean baby. Not Sven sized—bean sized. I love you, baby bean. Papa loves you.” His voice got pretty high-pitched and sing-songy when he spoke.

Of course, Elsa heard from Anna that Kristoff tended to speak a little differently around her—their cutesy nicknames only one example. But witnessing it firsthand made Elsa smile a smile unparalleled in sincerity.

Bringing in Olaf’s booties close to her heart, Anna blushed in pure delight, cherishing them as much as she cherished the moment.

Kristoff continued making faces at Anna’s stomach, putting his ear against it, and speaking in high-pitched whispers.

This visual was far too cute for Elsa and she felt the emotions getting ready to pour out of her.

“I’m so happy for you two! Really—I said this all to Anna the other day—with tears and everything, but you’ve both been so wonderful to Duna and Asti, and it’s clear to me, given how they already have such a good grasp on their powers. I guess I did have control somewhat when I was younger, but then it got worse, when, uh—” She hesitated but then cleared her throat. Not wanting to go down that road tonight. “But you two. You’re really doing well. You’re great parents. You’re meant to be parents.”

This made Kristoff stop what he was doing and run to give Elsa a nice, big hug. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, Els,” Anna agreed, walking over to put one loving hand on Elsa’s shoulder. “That means a lot to us. Like, a lot a lot. We were just two fools who knew a lot about being alone. And almost nothing about childrearing.”

“Your heart’s so big, though. You… you always had it in you. Both of you.”

Anna laughed and Kristoff hugged Elsa tighter. PDA-mode very much activated. “Hope this’ll hold true once we’re outnumbered.”

“You won’t be outnumbered,” Elsa explained. “You’ve still got Auntie Belsa.”

Anna automatically felt tears welling up in her eyes. One cute little line from her sister and she was off to the crying races yet again. “Thank goodness—we’re so lucky to have you.” Okay, it had gotten worse. Anna was practically a hyperventilating mess of tears at this point. Barely able to get out the sentence without a sob in between each word.

Then they heard a chorus of rambunctious squeals from the twins and an enthusiastic yelp from Olaf. Their attention focused on the middle of the room.

They gasped.

Iduna and Asta had created floating roses that hang above their heads as they play the game, and each of the three held their own bouquet of roses in their hands.

When Elsa said they had good control of their powers, Anna didn’t quite think she meant this. Without Elsa’s coaching, even.

They watched as the roses swelled in time with their singing

Ring around the rosie

A pocket full of posies

“Posies!” Asti yelled. “In pocket!”

With two swirls of her hand, posies appeared. Both Asta and Iduna stuffed them into their dresses. Olaf positioned a couple on his head. The girls laughed at that sight.

Seeing this, Anna sighed, lovingly and longingly. “They’re perfect.”

“And another perfect one’s on the way.” Kristoff smiled and rubbed her belly one more time for good measure.

“Wow,” Anna gushed. “Next year there’ll be three.”

“Outnumbered,” Kristoff added.

But Elsa huffed. “Not outnumbered!”

“I can’t wait!” Anna squealed.

And she couldn’t. They all couldn’t.

Because this Christmas was absolutely everything they could've wished and hoped for. And naturally, all their future Christmases, complete with a gaggle of three or four or five-hundred Bjorgman children, would be just as perfect.

With its open gates, full hearts, and an even fuller castle.

#vprkfrozine #frozen #kristanna #fanfic #fluff #christmas

21 notes · View notes

meow-bebe · 4 years

Text

Elusive

The First installment of my Neo Classics collection, ‘Elusive’ is set in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.

“Ten Lee throws the most extravagant parties in New York, though he rarely seems to be in attendance himself. When you find yourself in his mansion one warm June evening, you aim to find the elusive Ten Lee and get a bit more than you bargained for.”

Paring: Ten Lee x reader, Jung Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Roaring 20s au, Jazz Age au, The Great Gatsby au

Warnings: quite a bit of alcohol, general debauchery, mentions of adultery, mentions of smoking, this one gets a bit suggestive (heavy make out session, removal of outer layers)

Word count: 6.4k

Tonight’s soundtrack: Booty Swing - Parov Stelar, It Ain’t Over - Monsta X, Catgroove - Parov Stelar, Miss Jackson - Panic! at the Disco, Love Talk - WayV, Nicotine - Panic! at the Dicso

A/n: hiya! before you read, i’d just like to say that this fic is my pride and joy. Its my child. It took me over a month to plan out and write, is the longest thing ive ever written, and im very very proud of it. so please, if you enjoyed elusive give it a reblog! send me an ask! just scream in the tags, but let me know you enjoyed it! ill appreciate it more than you can ever know, and it will definitely help to give me motivation to keep working on the next parts of neo classics.

“The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alive with chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

In all of New York, fanciful, expensive, outrageous New York, there was one man known far and wide for his parties. Those in attendance always returned touting fabulous stories of more liquor than an army could drink in a week, of the celebrities that shamelessly showed their faces, and of the cover that night and perhaps hundreds of people could offer to those wanting to make a fool of themselves or sneak off with a mistress. It couldn't be denied that they were possibly the best parties in the whole state.

And the man behind it all? The elusive Ten Lee.

Ten was an enigma, a figure shrouded in mystery despite opening his property to all those who fancied a wild night most weekends. Very little was known about him to the general public. Even many of those in his own social circle knew little to nothing about the man. Supposedly he had inherited most of his fortune, and having only begun taking up residence in New York in the past year or so there was quite a bit of speculation that he was foreign. Despite being the topic of many a gossip column, Ten wasn’t exactly a public figure, and it seemed that this absolute lack of information about him bled into the atmosphere of his extravaganzas as well. Many of his regular partygoers never bothered to question his presence, or lack thereof. Ten had always interested you, and upon your invitation to one of his grand functions, you had decided that this was the night you would meet the little known Mr. Lee.

Not that you were truly invited, but not many people were. Most just came anyway, saying they knew someone who was involved with Ten, or they had known him before he claimed his inheritance and became the Mr. Lee that all high class New Yorkers knew of. (Or was there a time before? Perhaps he had started out just as anyone else and his sudden acclamation of a large sum of money led him to spend on the most frivolous of things. Or maybe the man had arrived from his mother’s womb as the classy and expensive bachelor he was known as. No one seemed to know.) No matter what their story was, each attendee often brought along several plus ones. Automobiles would bear them out to Long Island, and they would flood onto the lawn, ready to dance and drink and make good use of all the expensive treats Ten provided.

It was through a friend that you found yourself being driven out to the island one evening in late June. This was not your first Lee party, and it would not be your last, however you, unlike many of the other guests, held on to some shred of dignity and only showed up when invited. Even if you were only brought along because Irene didn’t want to be seen alone, it was something. Not that she ever kept to herself for long.

Irene, a close friend of many years, was a self proclaimed rising starlet, although in reality she had been a very minor character in two films. She could be a bit dramatic at times (as her “profession” called for), and her title as “actress” was certainly an exaggeration. Still, she was a dear friend to you no matter how much she liked to stroke her own ego. And using her small claim to fame, Irene had managed to worm her way into the heart and car of a man who was also trying to make his way in the film business. You suspected he was about as in the public eye as Irene. Nevertheless, he had managed to get an invitation through one of his higher-ups and invited Irene to accompany him, which of course meant you would be tagging along as well. And truly, it wasn’t as if you minded. You enjoyed a night out as much as the next person, and Irene was your ticket into many affairs you wouldn’t otherwise find yourself attending.

There were a few others driving out with you, all chattering amongst themselves and buzzing with excitement for the coming night. Irene, placed strategically in the front seat, appeared to have latched onto the driver as her catch of the night. This was expected, after all he had been the one to invite her. You didn’t fool yourself into thinking she would stay by your side for very long anyway, Irene was notorious for ditching you as soon as a particularly good looking man showed up. You were fine on your own, and didn’t usually mind being left to your own devices. Depending on where you were you often got the urge to explore, after all the rich lead different lives, and getting a glimpse of that was always a good time. Irene often encouraged you to find someone of your own to pass the time with, and while sometimes you would find someone who could hold a half decent conversation, it was never very high on the night’s agenda. Though it seems tonight, in a rare break from your usual habit of flying solo, you had found someone. An attractive young man who had been introduced to you as Mr. Jung was seated at your side, and had begun talking quietly with you as the automobile sped along towards the island.

“You look quite dashing tonight, Miss一?”

His voice was deep and soft, gentle and just a tad bit sultry.

“Y/l/n. Y/n Y/l/n,” you fill in.

“Miss Y/n Y/l/n,” Mr. Jung muses, and though you’ve heard them many times before the familiar words feel different when he says them like that, perfectly proper in his every action except for the slight seductive tone slipping through his barriers. A pleasant shiver runs down your spine as he takes your hand and presses a chaste kiss to your gloved fingers, the black of the silk making a nice contrast with his pretty pink lips. “A beautiful name, though not as beautiful as the one who holds it.”

You giggle, raising the hand not grasped in his to cover your mouth, and reply, “Oh Mr. Jung, how you flatter me.”

“Please,” he lets your fingers slip out of his, “just call me Jaehyun.”

Well, perhaps not entirely proper, but there was no denying that you were enjoying the attention he was laying on you. Finding Ten Lee might be the final goal of tonight but he could be notoriously hard to find, and even if you did have ulterior motives there was no reason you shouldn't enjoy yourself in the meantime. Jaehyun had been nothing but gracious and flattering, and it never hurt to have a gorgeous man’s arm to cling to. You chat idly with Jaehyun for the rest of the ride out to Ten’s mansion, words flowing freely between you the whole time yet each learning not a single note worthy detail about the other.

By the time you arrive, just before dusk is preparing to settle herself over the bay, the party is already in full swing. Though the real festivities begin once night falls, many guests arrive in the afternoon, early enough to enjoy the section of the beach that falls on Ten’s property. They swim in the green glass waves of the bay and generally enjoy everything that the mansion has to offer while it's still light out before changing into evening wear in one of the many spare rooms and coming down the wide marble staircases in pairs, ready to throw themselves into the pulsing energy of the night.

The beach is now empty as the unfamiliar man in the front seat pulls into the long drive snaking up the lawn and tries to find a place to park amongst the crowd of other automobiles. People dressed to the nines, still in their swimming suits, and everything in between trail up the lawn, bright light and the sound of many people talking all at once enticing them towards the house.

The car comes to a stop, finding a lucky spot not too far from the house, the excitement rolling off each and every person surrounding you palpable in the air. Jaehyun opens the door and steps out before offering a hand to help you down. You take it with a slight smile, T-strap heels clicking against the pavement as you dismount and shut the door. The hand placed on top of Jaehyun’s quickly found its way to his elbow as he leads you up the lawn towards the french doors, thrown wide open and spilling the bright light that illuminated the inside and the growing noise of the party as people traversed in and out of the house.

Irene and the driver were not far behind you, a familiar flirtatious bounce in her step as they traipse up the lawn. You knew from the way she looked at him一predatorial, like she was going to devour him but make him feel like he was the one doing the stalking一that you wouldn’t be seeing much of her after a certain point in the night. This wasn’t uncommon for Irene, she always said she liked the “thrill of the chase without having to do the chasing.” You supposed your own plans for tonight weren’t all that different, what with your search for the host. Usually that would’ve bothered you, as you didn’t particularly approve of Irene’s galavanting at events she shouldn’t really be present at in the first place, but tonight you were too wrapped up in the events unfolding to care all that much.

The tiered silk of your dress swished against your calves, the heavy beading giving it a swing which accentuated the swing of your hips that grew with your confidence as you made your way up the wide steps leading to Ten’s front door. With each stride you take forward the noise inside seemed to dull a bit, fading away until it was just a buzzing murmur in the background. Your vision zeroes in on the mahogany doors, a small window to what felt almost like a whole other universe contained inside the mansion. You tended to get star-struck easily, but there was something different about the feeling tonight. An excitement burned in your veins, one you had never felt before, as if your body was in the know about some mysterious outcome or event of tonight. It felt as though you were surrounded by a bubble of water that hazed over the silhouettes of people and faded the harmonies of the symphony buzzing somewhere inside, laughter and the faint clinking of glasses tinny in your ears.

There was something about the atmosphere that drew you in. You would never quite be able to explain the feeling, that odd tugging deep in your chest yanking you forward by some invisible string of fate. All feeling seemed to have left you except the aching want to throw yourself into the fray and dance until your feet fell off, drink until the sun came up, feel the burn of others’ cigarette smoke in your lungs until you choked, search for a companion until you found the right one.

Time had slowed, and the usual clacking of your heels deepened to a hearty thud for each step you took. Every movement dragged you farther down under the surface, your sense of anything outside the confines of the house melting away until you had been utterly consumed by the muted liveliness of the party before you had even joined in. Everything happened so fast for being in slow motion, and before you could get the gears turning once again and recognize that you were no longer on the path leading to the steps Jaehyun was leading you through the double doors. The bubble popped. Imaginary water came crashing down around you, streaming off your hair and down your dress. The sensation was so strong you could swear that you felt the rivulets on your arms, the dampness of your hair on your neck.

Everything was suddenly crystal clear, blurred forms regaining their sharp edges and an almost overwhelming surge of music and din of conversation assaulting your senses all at once. You look down at the ground, somewhat disoriented and almost expecting a puddle of water underneath you, drips falling from the hem of your dress, but there was nothing. The ground was dry, as it should be, and you shook your head slightly to yourself in hopes it would draw you back to reality a bit.

As Jaehyun tugs you along, slipping nimbly through the crowds gathered in the tastefully decorated foyer, you simultaneously began to regain your wits and let your thoughts drift. An odd mix of cigar smoke, lust, and overbearing perfume hung in the air, threatening to put you in a trance and drag you away. There was always a feeling of disconnection with the world around you that creeped in at Ten’s parties. Often you would let it carry you away, but tonight you were here for more than just your own enjoyment, and so you clung to Jaehyun like a lifeline. He would glance back at you every few seconds, a reassuring smile on his face as your hand on his arm began to squeeze just a little tighter, the tiniest bit afraid you would lose him in the kinetic chaos of dancing and laughing.

No guest goes without a glass of something to wash their inhibitions right down the drain, and many swipe the tiny sandwiches or pastries offered by butlers expertly balancing platters of hors d'oeuvres in hand as they expertly navigate through the throngs of people. You’re no black sheep tonight, for Jaehyun presses a glass of expensive champagne into your hand as you seek a somewhat less crowded place to enjoy the night, a replica clutched in his own. There are none who stand alone in this crowd, either surrounded by a group just as free spirited as themselves or paired off, hanging off their partners’ arms and not so subtly sneaking suggestive glances at each other.

For each corner you turn you see a familiar face一an old acquaintance from school, a friend’s sister, the man who works at the bank. But just as quickly as you recognize them their identities slip from your mind, partly from a combination of the overwhelming amount of people crowding around you on every side and the buzz of energy and alcohol.

Ten’s parties were known for being quite anonymous to those looking for a good time. Those in attendance would always see people they knew outside the bubble of safety Long Island offered on night like these, yet no matter how scandalous their behavior it would never become public knowledge. Gossip was unavoidable, yet that was always how it stayed一mere gossip for the wealthy ladies to discuss over tea. As darkness fell over the bay so came a cloak of anonymity that drew in people like moths to a lightpost.

An hour or so of aimlessly wandering the three story mansion, people have dispersed a bit which means that the rooms are a bit easier to navigate, though there is still no lack of bodies. You trail along through the groups of dancers, some getting drunk, all throwing caution to the wind (perhaps a little too much). The symphony had changed songs, now playing something with a bit more of a sexy tone to it and you sway slightly along to the beat as you walk. Idly chatting with Jaehyun, one hand on his arm and the other filled with a glass of something sticky sweet to replace the long gone champagne, the two of you traverse through Ten’s mansion, both surveying the rooms and glancing at the people passing by.

He’s got quite the handsome face, and most people wouldn’t look past that on a night such as this. But he’s looking for something tonight, you can see it in his eyes. The subtle way his gaze flicks up and down the figures of women in dresses fancier than yours as he uses eyeing the crowds for a clearish path as an excuse to not be looking solely at you. The slight desire he holds as his eyes take in the people milling about matches exactly with the look he gave you when you first sat down next to him in Irene’s friend’s car, and the way he flicks nervously between observing the other women in the room and you, still holding fast to his arm, lets you know that he’s not yet sure if you’re what he wants.

It doesn’t bother you though. He’s not what you’re looking for tonight either.

You’re looking for Ten. Though you only vaguely knew what he looked like, you always kept one eye sliding over the many people you run across, hoping to see a face that would strike you as the one person that intrigues you most. You’ve always heard rumors that he never seems to be present at the parties he throws, but personally you have a hunch that he likes to hide in the cover of the crowds. You’ve done your fair share of research about the man, not that drunken recollections and idle gossip are much to go off of, but none of the people you’ve asked about him seem to care all that much. Free drinks, a good time, and the beautiful people that crowded into Ten’s mansion was enough to make most forget about the mysterious host within a matter of minutes.

But not you. He intrigues you too much, and though you’ve been tempted to drown yourself in the pleasure offered up on all sides, your quest to find Ten is more important.

Not so important that you can’t enjoy yourself as you search though. Jaehyun is good company, and the two of you mingle amongst the other guests. As you drift along, you meet people you would never believe were really there, had really talked with you, were it not for the reputation that Ten’s extravaganzas held and the fact that you had seen them with your own eyes. Actors, musicians, the richest of the rich, all to be found in the same house at the same time. Supposedly he knew many of them personally and had genuinely invited them. Many of the stories you’ve heard sounded more like they were just fantasies that had been made up with the help of some strong liquor and many expensive looking partygoers, but it seemed as though there was more truth to them than expected. Ten was a strange figure, and while most just take advantage of the numerous bars and sensually lit gardens, you’re itching to get to the bottom of the mystery that is Ten Lee.

After several hours of drifting here and there in the house, you and Jaehyun find your way down to the gardens. The party still rages on the lawns, though there are a few less people and a bit more space. It's just as well lit as inside, and the alcohol flows just as plentily. Your surroundings are somewhat more tame, as people have more space to move around and less reason to do so.

After exploring the gardens for a while, you nudge Jaehyun and tell him that your feet have begun to feel tired, after all standing around in heels for several hours isn’t exactly the most fun you’ve ever had. The two of you find a place to sit quickly, and you settle at a table already set up with a small group. A company of eight gorgeous figures sit there, several paired off with a partner equally as stunning on their arm. (You have to wonder; were only those perceived by the host as beautiful invited? What of those who just showed up?) Irene is among them, the reason you had decided on this particular table. She shares a drink with the driver from earlier, talking with you when necessary though most of her attention was focused on the man on her right. You sit to her left, with Jaehyun on yours. Swirling your drink around, you do your best to pay attention to Irene, although it’s not going so well.

Something, or someone, has caught your eye.

Your attention is brought back to the conversation you’re supposed to be participating in when Irene laughs一a high pitched sound that could be perceived as either mellifluous or grating depending on your temperament一as tonight’s beaux says something that’s supposed to be funny. You don’t think he’s particularly humorous but half heartedly play along anyway, eyes unabashedly set on the man sitting across the table and to the right a bit.

He’s truly ethereal, both in looks and mannerisms. With a sharp and elegantly curved nose, dark hair swept tastefully to the side, and a sparkle of something dangerous you can’t quite place but find attractive anyway in his catlike eyes, he draws stares not just from you, but all across the garden. The sharp contrasting colors of his tuxedo seem to brighten his honeyed skin, his every movement graceful as he entrances you, all dazzling smiles and pretty features.

You can tell that he’s so much more than that though. There are layers and layers to this man, all hidden just below the surface, and you feel the desire to claw your way into him and analyse every bit swelling somewhere in the back of your mind as he catches your eyes locked on him. His smile grows just the slightest bit before he turns back to the light flirtation he seemed to be pressing upon the woman next to him.

Though he had been an ideal partner for the earlier parts of the night, Jaehyun is almost forgotten in the presence of this new man. However, not so much that you don’t notice his attention drifting to another table. Watching his line of vision, you locate the young woman he has his eyes set on. She’s not hard to find, beautiful even compared to the other guests she’s gathered with. Wearing a slinky red dress topped with a fur shawl, she’s certainly quite the sight to see, and your companion has been observing her for a while now.

It appears you weren’t what he was looking for after all.

“Jaehyun,” you say, sipping on your drink delicately, “You should go on without me for a bit. I see how you’re eyeing the bar over there.”

It’s a lie. His eyes flick from you back in the direction the woman in red was for just a second, and though it barely happened, a subtle movement that seemed instinctive, ot’s enough to give him away. Though he does his best not to show it you can see the recognition that you’ve seen through his show of keeping his eyes solely on you dawning in his eyes.

“Ahh, but I shouldn’t leave you alone.” Still the same gentleman you met in the back of the automobile. Or perhaps he was just putting up appearances, there was no way to tell. It didn’t really matter anyway, you had your sights set on something higher than the possibility of the deeper fragments of this man’s personality.

“I’ll be fine,” you wave off his concerns nonchalantly. “I’m not alone anyway, I’ve got Irene here!” At the sound of her name your friend looks over, leaning on the tabe slightly as she sends a wink at you and Jaehyun.

You read the wink as more of a “I see you eyeing your man, if you don’t disappear with him it’s quite a shame and I might just take the responsibility upon myself,” although you were hoping Jaehyun, who you assumed was unused to Irene’s wiley charms, would see it as more of a “I’ve got Y/n, you go on now.”

Either way, he seemed to take the hint, although he remained reluctant.

You pat his arm, “You go and have fun, Jaehyun, I don’t want to drag you down.”

“Not at all,” he replied gently, and it seemed to you almost calculated the way his eyes didn’t stray from you in the moment. You weren’t sure why he was bothering to keep up the premise that he would be returning, that his interest in you hadn’t evaporated the moment the fur shawled woman pulled his attention to her the very first time. You both knew, and no one around you was aware enough of their surroundings to pay you any attention. But no matter, it wasn’t important to you.

“Well,” his words are hesitant, as if unsure of his decision, “if you insist. Would you like me to grab you anything?”

“No, no, thank you but I’m alright.”

As he stands up and pushes his chair back into place, Jaehyun gives you one last look. It’s apologetic, he isn’t particularly proud of the way he was just leaving you for someone a bit more flashy and boisterous. But again, you don’t care. He can either deal with the guilt in the morning or drink enough to forget the whole night, it was no longer your problem. It hadn’t been since you locked eyes with the pretty man across the table.

Before Jaehyun was even out of sight the man you had been watching across the table catches your gaze once again. This time he stands and sidles over to the chair on your left that Jaehyun had abandoned moments before, sitting lightly beside you.

“Good evening.” His voice, low and silky with a hint of an accent you can’t quite recognize, would have knocked you right over if you were the swooning main character of some unrealistic romance film. He takes your hand and presses it to his lips, a coy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Might I ask whose presence I’ve been graced with tonight?” he inquires, and you tell him your name. “Miss Y/n,” he repeats. "Pretty." You raise an eyebrow at this, enjoying his efforts nonetheless.

“And you? What’s your name?”

He merely hums in response. “Has anyone told you that you look gorgeous tonight darling?” You let his avoidance slide, momentarily moving on. Some people wished to not reveal themselves, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t continue to enjoy his company.

“They have, in fact,” you say, thinking back to Jaehyun. You glance across the room but he’s long gone, the woman dressed in red having disappeared as well.

“As it should be.”

Your attention is drawn back to your current suitor, and the nights former flirtations are quickly forgotten as conversation strikes up between the two of you. Every other word out of his is some flirtation or another, and you absolutely bask in the attention that the cat eyed man lays on you. His forearms are leaned on the table, and he’s staring up at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re sure that your face mirrors his, but in your case it’s true. He really is the most strikingly beautiful human being you’ve ever had the pleasure to set eyes on. And for the moment, he’s all yours.

There’s something oddly familiar about him though, and the fact that you can’t figure out why is rubbing you the wrong way. It would be quite impossible to forget a face like that. The feeling is not so much recognition as it is that odd niggling feeling of deja vu that plagues your thoughts in a situation that you know you’ve never experienced before. You try to stay slightly wary of his presence, but he’s downright entrancing and your focus slips to his stunning features every time you feel like you’re approaching the answer as to who he is.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed when he leans closer to you, lips brushing lightly against the hair falling over your ear. “Perhaps we could find somewhere we could talk a little bit more一” He sets a hand on your waist and a shiver runs up your spine一 “privately.”

You grin slyly as he pulls away, awaiting an answer with his own smirk.

“It would be my pleasure.” You glance over to Irene, thinking you should let her know that you would be sneaking off for a while, but she was already gone.

And so, all suspicion tossed right out the window, you follow this handsome stranger. His arm tucked securely around yours, the two of you dash up through the bright gardens, whisking by the tables full of couples making eyes at each other and under the pretty strings of lights, up the lawn and once again through the french doors, still wide open, although with less people flooding in and out. You duck through the crowd of people still meandering around in the foyer, expertly weaving around dancers and drinkers. He takes you through the ballrooms and up a few grand sets of grand staircases, which you certainly would have tripped down were it not for the tight grip he had now moved to your waist.

“You seem to know your way around quite well, do you come here often?” you inquire as you slip down a hallway that was mostly devoid of guests.

That odd, dangerous glint you saw when you first caught sight of him reappeared in his eyes. “You could say that,” he chuckled.

Before you could wrap your head around what that meant he was pulling you into a spacious bedroom at the end of the hall and letting his hold on you cease to draw the door shut behind him. You turn away from him and marvel at the bedroom he had chosen. The room (which you assume to be a spare) is although fairly simple obviously belonging to someone extremely wealthy.

A pretty chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and you have the feeling that the cufflinks scattered across the desk and the edging of the mirror above the vanity might just be real gold. You can see expensive velvet peeking out of the slightly ajar wardrobe, and just from glancing at them think the bedsheets to be silk.

The only light in the room comes from the golden gleam of the gardens spilling through the french windows. The pretty glow gives the moment a sensuous and romantic feel, and you turn back to the cat-eyed man. He basks in the golden light, as if he knows that it's good to his complexion, accentuating the honeyed tone of his skin and shining in his hair.

A hopeful smile works it’s way across your face, a gleam of eros in your eye as you take a step closer to him, hoping he doesn’t turn out to be a total bore like many of the men you meet at parties. A matching desire shows on his face, fingers reaching up to begin working at the black material of his bowtie. He expertly undoes the knot, and tosses the inconsequential scrap of fabric to the side.

Placing a hand on your waist, he draws you towards himself as he takes small steps backwards, eventually landing against the wall with a slight thud. Your arms wind their way around his neck, and you press yourself up against him, sandwiching his lithe body between yours and the wall.

As he traces your features with his eyes, a slight change occurs deep within them, a darkness pooling in his pupils and that familiar hint of danger from earlier making itself present once again.

The corners of his mouth tug upwards slightly, and as he leans forward you tilt your head to nudge your nose against his, eyes fluttering shut. You meet him halfway, lips pressed together in a light kiss, almost as if you were just testing the waters, unsure as to whether you were truly interested.

And, come to find out, you definitely were. His mouth was soft on yours, keeping your pace for the moment. You draw back for a moment, taking a breath and reinitiating the kiss, plunging yourself into his mysterious depths.

He tastes of secrecy and some sweet cordial you can’t quite place, and you have never known something quite so heavenly. The heavy feeling of his mouth on yours is addictive, all your senses alight at once, and your hands grasp the lapels of his jacket, trying to draw him closer despite there being no space left between you.

“What should I call you?” you whisper against his lips as you come up for air. His eyes flick open, meeting your own as you take a step back and pull him along to slip your hands under the shoulders of his jacket. He chuckles slightly, detaching your hold on him to undo the button and slip out of his jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair before the vanity.

“That doesn’t matter.” His hands resume their rightful place on your waist, one sliding down to your hip and drawing you into his figure. “Just enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, trust me,” you press a kiss to his jaw, taking his hand and slinking out of his embrace to place yourself on the end of the bed, “I am.” (You don’t notice until later, but the sheets were in fact silk.)

You tug him along to where you sit, bringing him forward and between your knees. You tilt your head upward as your hands come to rest on his waist, sealing your lips together again.

You lose yourself to him, the feeling of his thin, wandering fingers tracing your silhouette and the way he pays the same amount of attention to every inch of your body, as if he was trying to memorize every dip and curve of your figure under the silk of your dress. The sweet taste of his mouth entrances you, and when he moves to press his lips to your neck or the line of your jaw between long winded kisses you feel as though you’ve ascended.

Time no longer exists in the muted bubble of a third floor bedroom in an unfamiliar house. Perhaps it’s only been seconds, and maybe you’ve been locking lips with a handsome stranger for hours, the party melting away to make way for dawn to dutifully traipse her way into the sky. Nothing matters anymore, you’re far too immersed in the passion of the moment to pay much attention to anything other than your unnamed lover.

Though in reality it’s only physical, he’s explored you so much that you feel with each slide of his tongue against yours he reveals another one of your secrets, one of your stories, something only you know. Despite the intimate impersonality of finding a lover in a stranger, despite the illusion of invasiveness that his careful movements bring, you want to fully surrender yourself to this feeling. Breaking a particularly lengthy kiss, he presses on your shoulder to get you to lean back, and you rest your weight on one hand behind you, the other busy clutching at the silky strands of his hair.

“You know,” you say, words broken in between the slotting of your mouths back together, “I came to this party in search of the ever so elusive Ten Lee, but goodness一” you press a particularly sloppy kiss to his lips, and he hisses as you tug gently on his hair一 “I do believe I’ve found something much better.”

“Oh, darling, don’t you see?” He presses on your shoulder again, and you fall back to sprawl yourself across the bed. He hovers over you, dipping to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I am Ten.”

With a smirk that would haunt you for the rest of your days, he gives you one last mindblowing kiss before evaporating into the shadows of the room, straightening the black vest he wore and slipping his suit jacket back on. As you pushed yourself back up so you were supported by your hands behind you, dazed and trying to comprehend what he had just whispered against your skin, Ten turned to look at you. He threw you one last look, a dangerous, beautiful look, before slinking out the door, back into the whirlwind of dancing and debauchery.

That night would never leave your mind.

No matter how many parties you attended, no matter how many men circulated through your life, no matter how much you drank, you could never forget Ten. And you’ve tried. He would forever live in your mind, fleeting thoughts of a bedroom flooded with golden light, of his discarded suit jacket, of that gleam in his eyes the first time you saw him.

It would take you many years and much consideration to finally figure out what that look in his eye was, that strange mirth you had never seen another wearing. Later in life, when you’re much wiser and have experienced more than your younger self who met Ten could even imagine, it comes to you one day. You realise that he seemed to find as much pleasure in the facade he presented to the world, the fanciful rumors and scandalous whispers that followed him like a shadow, as he did in the heated intimacy you shared in a darkened bedroom one night of the Roaring Twenties.

You would attend many more parties held in that mansion, sometimes dragged along by Irene, sometimes finding yourself there alone and unsure of why a somewhat faded memory keeps leading you back here. Every time, you held onto a fleeting hope that you could see just a glance, a sliver of the man you met that fateful night. But as much as you held onto the notion that you would see him again someday, you knew it was foolish. Ten’s reputation preceded him, and he liked to uphold that reputation.

True to your logic, Ten would never make himself known to you again. For years you would search, a futile attempt to prove to yourself he wasn’t just something you dreamed up in the haze of alcohol and the feeling of weightlessness one can only find on Long Island Sound on Saturday nights as the extravagant parties thrown by a man who rarely showed his face rage on.

Ten Lee, larger than life, beautiful, nebulous Ten Lee, truly was elusive, barely more than a shadow to his grand reputation.

77 notes · View notes

bailspogue · 4 years

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒: 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀

( 𝑗𝑗 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 )

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦. ─── When those hot summer nights come to a close — transcending within the early hours of those scorching mornings consumed with the presence of the troublesome Pogues you can hope for as good a day as any but when an inside joke between two best friends becomes ambitious JJ Maybank can only wonder if friends are all you both will ever be.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠. ─── swearing & underage drinking

𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑. ─── no

𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡𝑜. ─── part one

Rays of golden sunlight disintegrated against the rugged surface of the shallow waters swirling beneath the depths of their joyful ignorance. Warmth deflected from those very same waters wallowing all else in a sunny summertime radiance as those rays of golden sunlight ignited your skin and all thoughts seemed to vanish from your mind — How blissfully unaware from all injustices committed in the world you lived in.

If only you could not have seen the truth burrowed deep within the golden radiant sunsets, sunkissed smiles — a paradise filled with heavenly promises for those who would pursue the lives they have so plentiful longed after. Desires left to the imagination as they stumbled across the pearly white beaches amongst their flawlessly sculptured landscapes — an ideal life to endeavour towards.

One not the many were blessed with — thoughts of the unfolding events of the night before had entranced your mind one more those faint bruises that had scattered amongst the many blemishes of the tanned skin of JJ Maybank along with those few days his presence was dearly missed at The Chateau had become a strain upon your conscience — A sense of worry had manifested within yourself.

❛ What we up to boys — m'lady. ❜ A delightful welcome fell from your lips smothered by the ferocious winds whirling through the loose strands of your hair only ever so slightly wavering your carefree stance — lowering your head benevolently to curtesy one of the closest friends you had ever had watching how she feigned an extravagant posh accent and emulated your elegant greeting while you could only laugh along with her words.

❛ Anything illegal? ❜ You questioned — breathless you remained standing beside the vessel a somewhat pleasant smile brightening your lovely features when a suggestive indication of mischief made itself known within your eyes.

❛ Most definitely not. ❜ Kiara answered a gracious laugh hidden within her joyous tone of voice while your eyes lowered towards the blonde sat beside her. Those captivating blue eyes caught within your taunting glance before he too extended his hand steadily — feeling the gentle touch of your fingers decorated with the splintered remains of rosy nail polish clinging to them while those skimmed across the palms of JJ Maybank's calloused by the many hours of labour.

Finding yourself deliberately stepping aboard the roughly polished deck of The HMS Pogue as your eyes wandered around once more — the sight before you warm your heart as you observed the people you had known your entire life enjoying the scorching summer air and the refreshing sensation those whirling winds brought to the shores of paradise.

❛ As if you wouldn't be up for some crime. ❜ JJ taunted a smothered laugh intertwined within the blatant sarcasm of his words — perhaps the fluttering of his aching heart brought on by your mere presence should have concerned him more but that sight of you, wallowing in a sunny summertime radiance along with those infamous sunkissed smiles adorning your lips, was more than enough to make those doubtful thoughts vanish.

❛ What would ever make you believe such utter bullshit? ❜ You laughed in disbelief with the slightest reminiscences of a smile lingering upon your lips — along to the words of his friend JJ had seated himself upon the very edge — bare feet scarcely touching the waves down beneath them before his eyes had found themselves attached to your lounged form once again.

❛ The breaking and entering last night. ❜

❛ Dumbass. ❜ You muttered underneath your breath while his eyes softened ever so slightly at the sight of your state of feigned annoyance — before a mischievous smile adorned his handsome features while he elevated his head to engage your whimsical glare with a reassuringly taunting wink of his own.

He lived for the seething glances however fleeting you had brought upon his form only fueling into his antics more all while he laughed along with his own words awaiting an answer from You that was more than a mere insult muttered underneath your breath — when all you did was roll your eyes and scoff ever so slightly at his antics, directing your attention towards Kiara who you had found yourself pleasantly lounging within the sunlight with. Limbs entangled amongst one another lost within a conversation he could only assume to entertain the pair of you for the coming afternoon — wasting time away with the brightest of smiles adorning both of your lips.

❛ Dude. ❜ You declared, the slightest tinge of amusement hidden within the blithe tone of you voice — his curious eyes along with those all around you were no longer wandering your form they had found their attention brought to your hands. ❛ I brought gifts. ❜

Moving nonchalantly as if to obtain an extensive engagement from Kiara Carrera and all those seated along with her upon the deck — regarding ever so suspiciously how those bitten fingernails sauntered amongst the rigid lavender material of the worn-down bag that had already been seated conveniently between your thighs to find the bumper sticker you had bought for her buried scantily beneath some disregarded clothes from the preceding day.

❛ If you leave trash — you are trash. ❜

❛ Thought you would like that one. ❜

❛ I fucking love it. ❜ Kiara declared whilst those reminiscences of a sunny simper converted toward those infamous sunkissed smiled unbeknownst to the many of them aiding to the lighthearted reputation that had become theirs — those carefree Pogues sauntering amongst the shores of the Outer Banks trouble pursuing wherever they stood.

❛ You are officially her favourite. ❜

❛ Don't get all bitchy. ❜ The tone of your voice had lowered threateningly so. Your fingers sauntered along with the saturated material — a desperate attempt to reach for the other one you had bought. ❛ I got you something too. ❜

When those beautiful eyes of JJ Maybank fell upon the feeble material you held in between your fingers — bright-coloured letters amongst an ingenious white background, the words in fair Verona written in cursive lettering. However confused he was by the meaning surely hidden behind it — the thought of him signifying within your mind brought that intimate fluttering of his heart, only ever seemed to be reserved for you.

When you stood there it all felt so unreal a world entirely different than the one he had left behind even just for a little while — all those intrigues that had devoured his conscience thawed those feelings of guilt that had held their aching grasp upon his heart. You had wished nothing more than to be yourself — unapologetically and truly you away from all those eyes. However, in those eyes of JJ Maybank, you had already become what you so feared to be. Perfect.

❛ Two households — both alike in dignity. ❜ Pope stated awhile JJ Maybank laughed in disbelief — his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly while a frown formed upon his features. Watching the edges of your lips twist upwards within an unwavering smile.

You had found yourself stood cautiously upon the HMS Pogue once more — reunited with those you cared for so dearly with the purest of smiles upon your features. You too distinctly remembered the many times they had been all they had finding reassurance in one another’s company — under the influence or not you trusted them with your life.

❛ In fair Verona, where we lay our scene. ❜ You joined in — holding onto the bottle tightly afraid as if to spill all upon the deck. Kiara laughed louder than she had ever before that evening when bittersweet beer poured over those delicately decorated fingers but rang the bottle against those of Pope and you once more — a lively sound remaining within the humid summer air.

You found yourself wishing for moments like this to last a lifetime — to be surrounded by those golden rays of sunlight warming your skin while all those around you laughed freely blissfully unaware of the violence brewing underneath the shallow surfaces. A desire of your own you cherished — however unattainable.

He sought an answer within her softening eyes — the adoration hidden beneath them brought him a discernment of overwhelming ardour seething his skin where yours had touched his so thoughtlessly.

You could no longer withdraw the sense adoring that had prevailed the corners of your lips to transform into an unwavering smile amongst the many thoughts of him that ensued within your admiring subconscious once more — eyes wandering amongst the wounds that devised their very own patterns across the delicacy of his blemished skin every detail of him had you mesmerised and falling ever so easily before you conversed once more holding onto that very slender hint of adoring within his piercing eyes.

❛ Romeo and Juliet. ❜

#Outer Banks #outer banks imagines #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj obx imagine #jj #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow imagine #pogues #pogue life #The Pogues #kooks vs pogues #tuserscout

54 notes · View notes