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jakescaravel · 7 months

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Starving

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3,526

Warnings: smut, slight exhibitionism, kissing, touching, spit, overstimulation, head, slight mentions of spanking, drinking, being drunk, I think thats everything and as always 18+ MDNI!!!

Summary: “Baby, I can’t wait until we’re home. I’m starving.”

It’s no secret that Jake has money. Thinking about the 0s in his bank account makes your head spin and Jake loves to spoil you. About an hour ago he gave you a little hint about your evening plans, “go get dressed up nice babydoll, I’m taking you out.”

Getting ready to go out like this was always exciting, even if you were unsure of the location. You locked yourself in the bathroom and took the time to get perfect, making sure not a single hair was out of place. You picked out a satin dress of deep burgundy, one of Jake's favorites, the one that falls just above your knees and hugs your body in all the right places. Over the dress, a sheer lace black shawl paired with black heels and a black handbag. Your hair is pinned back in a low bun with two curled pieces hanging perfectly by your ears.

Your phone vibrates on the bathroom counter and you see a text from Jake.

Jake 💍💕

Leaving in 5, can’t wait to see what you’re wearing 😘

Oh shit 5 minutes. You quickly swipe a thin layer of eyeliner across your lash line, a coat of mascara, just a touch of blush, and a little bit of highlight on the end of your nose. Also some silver earrings and a red lip to match the color of the dress. Finally, you press some perfume behind your ears and a little bit on your wrists.

You take one last look in the mirror and smile at the pretty face smiling right back. Stepping out of the bathroom, you see Jake on the bed looking at his phone. Upon hearing the door open, he immediately tosses it to the side like it's some piece of junk and moves to stand. His eyebrows raise as he walks closer. He takes his time looking you up and down, taking in every little detail, eyes lingering on your thighs.

“Baby.” There’s just a hint of desperation in his voice and his lips curl into a sinister smile.

He places his hands on your hips and pulls you in to kiss you but you turn your head at the last movement. He pulls back, brows pinch together in confusion.

“Lipstick!”

He shakes his head and laughs to himself. “Oh you are so gonna regret that.” He smacks your ass. “Come on, let's go.”

You both walk outside to wait by the curb and Jake pulls out his phone, probably to check on your ride. Now it's your turn to look him up and it’s clear he’s taken some time to get ready, himself. He wears a dark blue cloth shirt, held together by only two buttons and simple black slacks with the faintest pinstriped lines. His hair, parted to the side and freshly shampooed, shines under the moonlight and a single atocha coin necklace adorns his perfectly tanned chest. He looks so effortlessly perfect, and expensive. That’s the Jake Kiszka charm, laid back but dripping with sex, and he knows it.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and returns his attention to you. You let him place a little kiss on your cheek and you interlock your fingers with his. Only a few minutes pass before your ride arrives.

Your jaw practically drops in shock as a shiny black limo pulls onto your street. You look at Jake and he’s watching the limo as well, smirking. He walks to the side and opens the door for you.

“M’ Lady.” He holds his hand out and you take it as you carefully step into the back seat. He’s not far behind you and you both settle in as the door shuts.

The limo has one long seat covered in leather and a table in the middle with a vase of colorful flowers. He picks out a tiny red rose and tucks it behind your ear.

“This is nice right?” He says, still smirking.

“Yes I.. I don’t even know what to say, this is so nice Jake.” You rest your head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close.

For the rest of the short ride, Jake flirts with you, whispering into your ear, kissing you on your neck, and other little acts of affection, all while sliding his hand slowly up and down your thigh. When you pull into the parking lot and exit the vehicle, you and Jake walk hand in hand to the door of the restaurant.

“Good evening sir, are you Jake Kiszka?”

“Yes, that's me.” Jake looks to you, flashing his perfect teeth, you know how he likes to be called sir.

This place is nice. The tables are lined with a white table cloth each with a set of dimly lit candles. The live Jazz band plays a soft ballad in the back.

When the hostess leads you to your table, Jake pulls out your chair for you and you take a seat. Even the chairs are fancy, varnished wood and padding of a dark black color. You take a closer look around and see that the restaurant is mostly made up of other couples, mostly older ones. You two seem to be the youngest people here in fact. Yougest people to be able to afford it no doubt.

A cute brunette waitress approaches the table, and immediately seeing Jake, her eyes widen. Trying to play it off she quickly introduces herself as Katie. Then she hands you both menus and reads out the specials. Her eyes are practically glued to Jakes the whole time. Katie leaves the table but when she walks away she does a double take before going into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes when she finally turns and Jake is looking all too smug.

“Wow she was not subtle.” You say.

“Yeah.” He laughs. “I think I actually heard her whimper when I said thank you.” You laugh and he sends you a wink before returning to the menu.

You both decide on a nice bottle of red to start and she returns shortly taking your orders.

Jake leans forward as he orders, smiling sweetly at her as she takes the wine menu. “Thank you Katie.” He sends her one of his heart stopping, teeth flashing smiles and she blushes and looks at the floor.

“Thanks, I mean… sorry I-I'll have that right out for you!” She scampers away nervously as the two of you try to stifle your laughter. She comes back just a minute later with a bottle of some expensive looking french wine. Chalk it up to Jake to pick out something like that. She sets the bottle chilled in ice, down and walks away very quickly.

Jake fills up your glass very generously and you take a sip. You’ve never been too critical of wine. As long as it's red, you’ll drink it but you have to admit, this is delicious. Jake seems to feel the same way, given his similar satisfied expression. You look over the food menu and finally decide on the spaghetti and when Katie comes back Jake says, “We were waiting for you Katie.”

She laughs, too loud, and then straightens out. “Alright what would you like to start off with?”

Jake nods at her, holding eye contact and smirking. Oh the poor girl.

“Yes I'll have the spaghetti and my fiancé will be having the same.” He hands her the menus, slightly brushing his hand against hers.

You can hear her breath literally catch in her throat and she takes both of your menus and descends once more.

“Wow Jake, that was a little evil. Now she’s gonna have to wait hours until the end of her shift to relieve herself.” He giggles.

After your food arrives at the table, and you’ve each had a little bit more wine, you let yourselves fall into a comfortable silence while eating. The food is delicious and it pairs perfectly with the wine. You can taste the fresh tomato and basil. After you’re both done with the small portion, you finish your glass and Jake fills it right back to the top. You can tell he’s on his third glass already by the way his cheeks are flushed and he keeps staring at you, looking at your lips and chest.

You’re starting to feel it a little too. Your body feels lighter and relaxes into the cushion. You stare into his eyes as you sip on the sweet red liquid. As it enters your system you start to feel looser too. You almost knock over your glass reaching for the salt but Jake grabs it and sprinkles some over your plate for you. As he does so he leans in and curls his finger at you. You move forward and turn so that he whispers right into your ear. “You look so gorgeous y/n. I’m having a hard time controlling myself.” He sits back in his chair and winks at you. The raspiness of his voice ignites something in you and you move your leg to brush against his, desperate for any sort of touch.

You look up to find him trying to contain his smirk as his foot meets yours and travels up the inside of your leg. He moves a little higher and you send him a look as if to say, ‘we’re really doing this right now?’ His lips curl into an evil looking smile and he slowly nods his head.

After a few minutes of staring each other down and playing under the table, you feel your patience growing thin and the tension getting stronger. Where is this waitress with the check so we can get the fuck out of here?

Jake relaxes back in the chair, moving his shoulders up to stretch as he does so. He looks so sexy when he rests his forearm on the table and puts his other elbow up, resting his chin in his hand. You quickly finish the rest of your wine and pour yourself another glass. Your mind starts to slip away, thinking things you shouldn’t be thinking of in public, but Jake’s is already there. You continue to stare, eye fucking each other until the waitress returns with the check.

Jake never looks away from you, never breaks the stare as he opens his wallet and takes out a few bills. He doesn’t even check the amount, he couldn’t be bothered, he knows the crisp hundreds he’s pulled out will do the trick. He always carries cash with him, no matter the impracticality of it, it is the Jake kiszka way. He puts the money on the table and slides it towards Katie.

“Skipping dessert tonight?”

“Desert is waiting for me at home.” Oh fuck.

That shuts her up and she looks nervously from you to Jake as he smirks, still staring into your eyes. He playfully kicks your foot under the table. After the bill is paid and Jake gives her a generous tip, you both stand. Jake immediately wraps his arm around your waist, tightly holding you to him. You can see the jealousy in her eyes as you move away from the small table.

Walking towards the door of the restaurant proves to be a difficult task. It's almost as though you’ve partially lost control of your legs, they feel like jelly. However, Jake walks tall and proud and in turn, holds you up as you exit the building. When you get outside, the same limo is already waiting for you.

As soon as the door is closed and you are both concealed in the back seat, he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in to kiss him. You kiss him back as you throw your leg over to straddle his lap. You place your hand on the back of his head, moving your fingers through his hair, grabbing and pulling, holding onto anything. Your heart rate starts to pick up as you kiss him back with more fervor. You both fall into a perfect rhythm, pulling back and forth, bodies pressed tightly to one another. With his other hand he grabs onto your thigh, kneading into the skin and working his way up higher. A second heartbeat starts to form and you’re aching to get home.

You pull back to take a breath and you both just stare at each other for a moment, chests rising and falling heavily. His lips curl into a smile and you move in to kiss him more softly. Your lips meet in a slow embrace, moving your heads in unison as your tongue slips past his lips. He lets out a soft hum and you pull away again.

He whispers into your ear, “Baby, I can’t wait until we’re home. I’m starving.”

For the rest of the ride, he’s trying to refrain from fucking you right there but he touches you like he’s addicted. He brings his face to your neck hungry breathing in your scent. He mutters a low “fuck” that you can barely hear and holds you, placing sloppy drunken kisses along the length of your neck, licking and sucking at any exposed skin he can find. His hand reaches around to clamp your mouth shut, preventing you from making any noise in front of the blissfully unaware driver.

After what seems like hours, the limo pulls up to your house and you exit, walking hurriedly towards the door, the result of the heated car ride evident between your legs. Jake is hot on your trail as you fumble with the lock on the door. The second you’re both inside he crashes his lips into yours with force almost knocking you off your feet. He holds you steadily as he walks you backward towards the living room. Once your back is pressed against the wall he pushes his body into yours and you can feel his cock, hard and throbbing against your stomach.

In his drunken state, his movements are messy and uncalculated but he moves swiftly and with purpose. His hands travel down from your breasts to the bottom of your dress where he roughly pulls the fabric up and hikes it around your hips. Jake pulls away and smirks looking down at the lacey pair of painties you picked out. He drops to his knees until his eyes are level with your cunt. He looks absolutely taken by you, as he looks you over hungrily. He looks up to your face with dark lustful eyes and your breath catches in your throat. The way he looks up at you from his submissive position mixed with the dominance in his glare sets your body on fire. You can feel yourself pulsing, aching to be touched.

With no warning, he roughly pulls your panties to the side and attaches his mouth to you, burying his face in your cunt. His expression softens at the mere taste of you and he whimpers against your clit. Your hips buck up into his mouth from the harsh vibration and a moan of your own ripples through you.

You swear that he does this for his own pleasure rather than yours. The way he looks when he's enjoying you like this… eyes shut in concentration, the thin line of sweat forming at his forehead, the moans of his own. It seems like you're not even there, like the only thing that matters to him is your taste.

He pulls away and spits right onto your clit, his eyes never leaving your center. The visual itself is one you wish to remember for the rest of time. He crashes his lips back into you, sucking your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over and over you. The sensation builds and builds and you know you’re teetering over the edge. You pull your hips back slightly and his hands find their way around your waist pulling you onto his mouth, holding you there.

He speeds up his movements, sending a jolt of electricity through you and you grab onto whatever you can, which happens to be his head as he continues to devour you. His arms tighten around you and he flattens his tongue moving his head back and forth against your clit. The noises it makes are obscene but neither of you could possibly begin to care. He stops moving all together and you don’t even realize you're rocking into him chasing your release until he squeezes you tighter forcing you to stop.

He slips his tongue inside you, rubbing his nose against your clit with every nod. His tongue curls deep inside you and your leg twitches involuntarily at the soft pressure of his nose against your clit. He slows his movements, allowing you to find your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let yourself feel every little sensation. The small flicks of his tongue, the way his nose feels against your center, his hands gripping into your skin, sure to leave bruises.

This new mix of pleasure carries you further to the edge until you’re almost letting go but at the last second, he pulls away. You groan with disappointment and he opens his eyes, narrowing in on you. He looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes as he sticks out his tongue, carefully delivering a slow lick from your center right up to your clit where he swirles his tongue around.

He looks so innocent.

You hiss as he repeats the action a couple more times, your legs start to tremble. He starts to move a little faster now, licking tight circles around your clit. Your whole body feels white hot and you’re so close you know it's only seconds before you fall apart. He knows it too, you can see it on his face. His expression changes, his eyes glossing over and turning dark, the look he gives you says, ‘Give it to me. Now.’

He nods his head slightly as he pulls your clit into his mouth. You feel his tongue moving in fast circles and ever so softly, he closes his teeth around the sensitive bud. That's what does it. You grab fistfuls of his hair as your body shakes around his mouth. You’re being transported into another world, entirely unaware that you're chanting his name into the room. He licks over you as you ride your high, no end in sight.

After a surprisingly long time, you feel yourself coming down but Jake has other plans for you. His gaze is locked on yours as he moves even faster and harder. You feel your pleasure starting to turn into overstimulation but there is no cease in his movements. Your legs start to shake more aggressively and you can’t seem to stop.

You manage to choke out “Jake… it’s.. it's too much” but he dismisses you with a simple shake of his head and he begins to move even faster. He growls into your soaked cunt and he seems to be lost in his own pleasure too.

His tongue moves fast, buried deep in you soaking up anything he can. It’s like he's starved for you and he can’t move fast enough to collect every last drop on his tongue.

Your second orgasm hits you like a train, pulling you under faster than you could ever have imagined. This time you can hardly hear anything as your whole body goes limp against his kneeling frame. Time doesn't exist and your screams fill the air as he holds you steadily. Your whole body is shaking and you hold the back of his head so tightly you’re afraid you might hurt him. “Fuck fuck fuck” falls from your lips like a mantra, the pleasure is overwhelming and is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

After you possibly can't take it for another second you pull his face away and he gasps for air like he was drowning in you�� which he sort of was. Jake looks up at you, covered and shining with your release. His chest heaves up and down as he looks over you with a satisfied smirk.

“Good job baby, I knew you could do it.”

As your breathing starts to calm down he returns his attention to your cunt. He takes his time slowly cleaning up the mess he's made, dragging his tongue from your clit to where your cum drips down your inner thigh making sure not a single drop is left. He detaches just for a moment to say, “you taste fucking fantastic” and soon his kitten licks turn into kisses and he makes his way up placing little pecks along your stomach.

Suddenly tiredness washes over you and standing becomes impossible. The alcohol still swirls around in your system as you feel like you could collapse. Jake gently fixes your dress and scoops you up, princess carrying you to your shared bedroom where he will clean you up and get you ready for bed. He laughs, somewhat taunting you but really, he thinks you’re adorable.

“Tired, my love?”

#jake kiszka #jake x reader #greta van fic #romance #greta van fleet #smut #sugardaddy

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

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Hiii! its me once again. First off, hope you're doing well and I want to thank you so much for the last 2 request I had. Outstanding work! So here goes my next request: public sex with Matt, so the reader and matt are at a fancy party with Foggy and Marci, so in this special occasions the reader decides to dress really fancy and Matt goes feral with her scent. After a while at the party he just haves to fuck her. So they run to the bathroom and fuck but then they are kicked out.

Thank you sweetie!

hii lovely! im doing good thank you, hope you are too! thank you so much, it means the world. you always give such great ideas, so I hope you like it. I loved writing it, maybe a bit too much lmao💌

inspired by this gif (bc it suits perfectly)

behave (matt x f reader)

wc || 1.6k

warnings || public/ toilet sex, p in v, mentions of alcohol. think that’s it’s, just a fun and naughty one

masterlist + rules

taglist

Foggy’s here.” Matt calls out to you, pacing patiently around by the front door.

“One sec.” You shout out in reply, spritzing a couple pumps of perfume before adding your essentials to your little clutch.

Pacing towards Matt, snickering at the way he was purposely knocking his stick into things, clearly bored of waiting. “Well don’t you look handsome.” You beamed, straightening his tie.

His hands rest on your waist as he feels the fabric. “What’s this? This feels different.” He smiles at the new feeling.

“Well, that part is sheer but underneath is satin, and underneath that… is just naked skin.” You sweetly flirt, brushing over his stubble before lingering with a half kiss. “Chop chop, Foggy’s here.” You tease, holding his hand as he groans, walking you both out of the apartment.

“What colour is it?” He smirks while locking the front door.

“The satin is the same colour as your glasses, and the sheer part is the same as the suit you’re wearing- yellow.” Hiding a playful smirk.

“Yellow?!” His eyes bug out.

Snickering to yourself, “no I’m just messing, it’s black… or is it?” You tease, walking arm and arm down the stairs. Walking out to the limo, Matt holds it open, letting you in first.

Greeting Foggy and Marci warmly, “hey guys.”

“What colour is my suit?” Matt blurts out immediately, wasting no time.

“…black…” Foggy says slowly. “Did she tell you it wasn’t?” Looking at you.

“Yeah.” He pretends to look upset, causing you to laugh hard.

“You can’t do that- he hates that.” Foggy tries to scold you, but just ends up laughing himself.

“I couldn’t help myself, I’m sorry honey.” You teasingly coo, rubbing over his back.

“You guys better behave yourselves tonight, it’s kind of a big deal.” Foggy says seriously, looking

between the two of you. His hand lacing into Marci’s, “keep it in your pants.”

Rising your hands as if to show innocence, “we’d never do such thing.” Looking over at Matt to see the beginning of a smirk appear.

“Matt!” Foggy scolds, “I’m talking to you, you- you, man-whore.”

“Oh, he’s such a whore.” You tease, playfully slapping his thigh.

For the rest of the car journey, you all exchanged jokes, hoping to get it out of your systems before you got to the event.

The limo slowed down and pulled up. Foggy and Marci got out first, which left you and Matt in there for a few seconds. Turning to him, “you better keep it in your pants, Mr Murdock, you heard your friend.” Lingering yet another kiss on his lips, before you stepped out.

Adjusting your shawl, linking your arms in Matt’s as you walked into the building. “So many snooty people in here.” You quietly say.

“It’s a law event for lawyers… does that make me snooty too?” He asks, leaning down to talk into your ear as the space was too noisy.

“No. You’re slutty. Come on I need a drink.” Holding his hand, pulling him through the crowd. Asking the bartender for your drinks, paying before you both stepped aside.

“I kind of should mingle.” Matt says with a joking scowl.

“‘Mingle’ who are you?” You tease, taking a slip from your straw. “I’m just kidding, tell me who you need to see, so I can take us there- gotta make this blind guy act look believable.” Jokingly tapping his chest.

“Alright, I do actually need to speak to Hogarth.” Matt says into your ear, kissing the soft skin underneath. “You smell great, by the way. It’s my favourite perfume of yours.” He places your arm through the gap in his so that they’re linked once again. “Now please lead the way.” He chuckles as you walked towards Jeri in the corner talking to some women.

“She seems kinda occupied right now.” You wryly laugh. “Oh! Oh. That guy you met with last week is over there, want to speak to him?”

“No.” He groans.

“Why?” Groaning back, copying his tone.

Bending down to talk into your ear, “I’d rather be with you.” Pulling away with a devious smirk.

“You are naughty. No, come on, you might get some information about that case.” You say trying to perk him up.

“Hello sir, I met with you the other week, this is my girlfriend.” Pointing his thumb at you standing next to him. “I was hoping you had a few spare moments to talk about the case again.”

You were very professional when you needed to be, you could turn your playful nature off instantly. Which was actually a great thing, as it meant you were able to adapt and be charming whenever necessary. Matt’s head would tilt to the side grinning as you wooed the man, listening to the way you’d become so passionate when you spoke of Matt’s work ethic.

Saying your farewells to the man, both of your professional exteriors immediately vanish. Matt’s head hangs low, mouth mere centimetres away from your ears, “I need you, right now.”

Giggling as you looked around for Foggy, hoping not to find him. “I’ll meet you in the toilet’s upstairs. Far corner, right at the back. Two minutes.”

He brushes a featherlight kiss to your lips as you walked away from each other separating, both thinking that this way will be less obvious.

Matt is already there waiting, noticing his frustrated breathing, quickly walking over to him. “Are they all empty?” You subtly ask.

“Yeah.” He replies instantly.

“Are you just saying that?”

“Yeah.” Pulling you into the individual toilet room, slamming and locking the door shut behind you.

His hands eagerly hold your face as he brings it towards him, planting desperate kisses all over your lips. Shrugging off his suit as he panted exasperatedly into the skin under your jaw.

Gripping onto your hips as he pushed you up against the door, making out urgently. Hands roaming to the back of your neck, holding it to control your movements.

Hiking your dress and pulling it up to rest above your thighs as you begin to wind your hips forward, purposely rubbing yourself against his bulging crotch. The desperation leaves both of your lips in a whine.

He undoes his trousers, allowing them to pool around his ankles. Lifting you up from under your ass with great ease as you wrapped your legs around his lower hips. His chest is flush with yours, holding you up while he pumps his cock a couple times. Rubbing himself through your slick folds, using your wetness as lube. Lining his tip up with your entrance and keeping it there while his hands wrapped back around you.

Lowering you slightly, allowing you to sink down, moulding around him as you adjust. His grip on your waist pulls you off his cock, before he slams you back down onto him.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, draping over his head as he starts rutting up into you. Grunting desperately into the crook of your neck as your body jerked up and down. The back of your head pressed up against the door as you whimpered at the engulfing feeling.

All of the teasing you did throughout the night felt like edging and it felt so incredibly intense to finally be here. Eyes screwing shut as the front of his cock repeatedly hit the spot you both loved.

His teeth graze along your neck as he whines into it. A slurry mix of words leaves his parted lips. “You feel so good, so so good.” Kissing under your chin. “Sound so unbelievably pretty.” Those words alone made you want to explode on site. “As much as I love those beautiful noises, you gotta be quiet, people are outside.” He pants into your ear. He hushes you, while picking up the pace.

His spare hand clasps over your mouth to block your increasingly louder whimpers. Whispering into your ear, “someone’s coming, you gonna come too, hm? You got to keep quiet though, Angel. Shush.” His thrusts becoming more precise and desperate.

The main toilet door opens, eyes screwing shut trying to be quiet while Matt incessantly rutted up into you.

His hand gripped tighter over your mouth as he could tell you were getting close. You accidentally clamp around him causing Matt to gently groan at the sensation, your hand immediately slapping over his mouth to quiet him.

Unable to hold it any longer, you let go- spasming and convulsing around his cock, causing his own warm release to spill into you.

A combination of cum ran out of you, pooling on the floor as he slowed down.

Hazily kissing over your face in a post-sex glaze-over. “You did so good.” He praises, tucking rouge strands of hair behind your ears. Kissing your nose, “so good.”

“Hello?” A random voice says.

Both of your eyes bug out, clearly not hearing a stranger enter.

“Security. I’m going to have you ask you guys to leave.” The male voice says sternly.

You both decide not to engage, hopefully, the man will just walk away. But no, you were wrong. The man knocks on the door behind your back. “Hello.” His tone sharpened.

“I’m just changing my tampon, do you mind?” You lie.

“Someone told me what was going on in here, you gotta go.”

“It’s just a tampon dude. Nothing going on.”

“Why are there two people in there?” Growing frustrated.

“I uh- needed help…?” You slowly say, trying to stop yourself from laughing when you saw Matt’s confused expression.

“I don’t get paid enough for this, you two- OUT.”

“Okay alright, one minute.”

Leaning into Matt’s ear whispering, “we both run out, you go left I go right. Go far so he can’t catch us.”

Even though Matt is technically a man of the law, he loved these fun and spontaneous moments with you.

Both adjusting your clothes and getting ready to run. He pulls you in for a tender kiss, before unlocking the door. Both immediately bolting out the door, running out of the toilets and down the hallway in a zigzag motion, loudly giggling to yourselves.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock #matthew murdock x you #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #i need him

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violettduchess · 1 year

Text

A/N: @dear-mrs-otome your request has taken me on quite the journey. I hope I've managed to do your Prince right and that you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. 💜

Technically, this is part of my Broken Heartstrings series under the prompt: Only One Bed which I have been dying to write and was really excited to do with Silvio, demanding as he is.

Silvio x f! reader

Word Count: 5093

Of all the people to share a carriage ride back to the palace with, Silvio Ricci is the last one you would have chosen. You glance at him, sitting there across from you in the darkened carriage as it sways over the uneven country roads. His face is currently set to a sharp scowl, his impossibly blue eyes staring out the glass window. Not that he can see much. The world outside is black, streaked with shots of gray as the rain continues to fall, pelting the carriage’s roof and windows with a loud rat-a-tat-tat sound.

Only his occasional annoyed sighs interrupt the steady drumming of the rain. You pull your thin, black silk shawl tighter around your bare shoulders, turning to stare out your own darkened window. You’ll be grateful when you reach the palace and can change out of your tightly corseted ball gown. As enchanting as it is with its ivory-colored satin and black lace trimming, you are looking forward to being able to breathe again. And bend properly.

“Only Rhodolite would have a ball way out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.”

Your jaw clenches and the rolling sound of thunder echoes the irritation you feel at his snide tone.

“The Count holds this ball once a year at his country estate which is one of the most elegant–”

The Prince of Benitoite scoffs loudly. “Elegant my ass.”

You are really beginning to question Sariel’s decree that you ride back to the palace with this pompous royal. You’re more likely to lodge your heeled shoe in his temple than make pleasant small talk.

“Prince Silvio, do you have to be so-” You’re interrupted by another boom of thunder, this one loud enough to rattle the carriage. You hear the frightened whine of the horse over the continued sound of heavy rain. Some part of you is not surprised when it rolls to a stop. A moment later there is a rapping at the window and you lean over, opening the carriage door. A rush of wet, cold air invades the dry interior.

“The hell we stopped for?” Silvio yells above the din of the downpour.

The driver, battling the gusting wind to keep his hat on his head and the rain out of his eyes, has to yell back in order to be heard. “‘Storm has gotten too bad, your highness! We can’t keep traveling in this weather!” He glances over his shoulder, blinking against the water pelting his face.. “We passed an inn just a short ways back! We should head there for shelter!”

You expect him to argue and for a half a moment, his lips part and it looks like he might. But then the sky explodes into a sheet of white as lightning bares its teeth. Silvio’s gaze shifts from the sky back to the driver and you’re given a glimpse of a man who understands and respects the power of a storm. He nods once in affirmation.

The driver looks relieved that he won’t have to argue with the haughty prince and closes the carriage door. A moment later you feel it turn, heading back in the direction it came. You wonder whether or not you should comment on the prince’s amenability when he snorts in disgust, moving his expensive leather boots away from a puddle of water that the rain had blown onto the carriage floor.

Nope, still an ass, you think with a sigh and ride the rest of the way to the inn in silence, with only the turbulent sound of the storm echoing through the carriage.

“Whaddaya mean there’s only one room left?” Silvio’s jewelry and the many gold adornments on his ocean-blue jacket gleam in the light of the hearth fire inside the common room of the inn. “You’re talking to a Prince of Benitoite! I could buy this whole place out from under ya in a day.”

The beleaguered innkeeper crosses his burly arms, glaring at the prince from under bushy white eyebrows.

“As I said already, Your Highness, I got one room left. You can take it or leave it.” He turns to the driver who has returned from securing the horse, safe and sound in the barn. “It’s not much, sir, but you can have a spot in front of the hearth. It’ll warm you up, dry you off.”

Silvio’s booted foot hits the wooden planks of the inn’s floor. “And your room? What if I demand to commandeer your bed?”

The innkeeper grins through his full, white beard. “You’d certainly give my wife the thrill of her life, Your Highness.”

You would laugh at the startled look on Silvio’s face but you have another pressing problem. “So I have a choice between the floor and….sharing a room with him?”

Genuinely sorry, the innkeeper nods, his gaze darting to the prince. “I apologize, my lady. Truly.”

You turn to face Silvio and his scowl. With a jangle, he snatches the room key from the counter where the innkeeper left it and marches off toward the narrow, winding staircase that leads to the second story of the inn.

You follow with one last glance at the common room.

Maybe the floor wouldn’t be that bad.

The room is at the very end of the hallway, nestled under the slanted inn roof. You notice several things right away when you step inside: There is one round glass window through which you can watch the way the rain is being flung through the night by a restless, howling wind. A small oil lamp is lit, resting on the nightstand of the lone bed. It is larger than you expected, taking up close to half of the small room. A tiny, worn table and single chair are tucked into a narrow corner. And there is absolutely nothing else in the room except a Prince of Benitoite, whose pale head almost brushes the rafters, standing in the middle with his arms crossed, glowering in disdain.

“What a dump.”

Irritation trumps politeness and you hear yourself snap at him. “You’re welcome to take your royal ass back down to the common room and sleep with the driver. Or perhaps the barn with the horses is more to your liking.”

He turns sharply, his clothing and jewelry jingling softly under the sounds of the storm. His gaze, the blue of a midsummer sky, lingers and you wonder if he’s going to snap at you for speaking to him that way. Or comment on your language. Instead he surprises you by doing neither. His lips curve into a grin and you are utterly unprepared for the way a smile changes his face. What was begrudgingly handsome transforms into blindingly beautiful. Butterflies are born, fluttering their wings in your stomach, sending up a breeze that comes out as a huff of air as you march over to the side of the bed closest to the window and sit, leaning down to undo the straps of your shoes.

He watches you, crossing his arms. “Whatcha doin’?”

You keep your back to him as you pull off one shoe and begin undoing the other. “Getting ready for bed.”

He glances at the bed with its single, quilted blanket and two pillows. Then he begins unbuttoning his dress jacket. “Fine. You can have the blanket. Maybe it’ll make the chair or floor more comfortable.”

Standing, you turn around to face him. He’s carefully removed his jacket and has folded it so all its golden ornaments are wrapped inside of it.

“What do you mean ‘the chair or floor’? The bed is big enough for us both. I refuse to–What on earth are you doing?” You watch, brows raised as he begins tucking his jacket underneath his pillow.

“My clothes are worth more than everything in this room. Hell, one of my rings probably more than this whole fucking inn.” He steps back, satisfied that you can’t see the jacket anymore and then faces his next bothersome obstacle, the one shaking her head with her hands on her hips. Hips, he notices, that are temptingly accented by the flair of her ballgown. His gaze follows the stiff waistline up the strapless bodice where he can’t help but notice other things the gown accents. How had he not noticed your–

Your voice snaps him out of it.

“Prince or not, that’s ridiculous.”

Aaaaaand you’re yappin’ again. He ignores your comment, kicking off his expensive leather boots in a move so casually effortless it stirs those annoying butterflies again and then with a sigh, lays down on the bed. He’s left all of his jewelry on, his golden rings and earrings and necklaces which strikes you as very uncomfortable but he seems right at home, stretching out his long limbs in a way that seems to swallow all that space the bed seemed to have at first glance.

Best to get ready and go to sleep immediately.

With that thought, you realize something-and the raucous storm outside has nothing on the roar of panic flooding your body.

Your ivory and black ball gown is beautiful. And you were laced into this beautiful ivory and black ball gown by a trusted female servant. Laced into it wearing nothing but a pair of soft silken drawers which stop mid-thigh.

You consider trying to sleep in the gown. No. You wouldn’t be able to move. It’s too tight at the waist and chest and too voluminous in the skirt.

Which means…..you turn slowly to see Silvio has rolled over, his back to you. Great. He’s gone to sleep already.

You clear your throat.

No response.

You do it again louder.

He doesn’t move.

“Silvio!”

His name does it. “The fuck you want, lady?!” He’s rolled halfway around, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“I….” This hurts to admit and you wish you were in the room with anyone else. “I can’t undo my gown.”

“So sleep in it,” he says, each word drawn out slowly like he’s talking to a small child. He mutters something in the language of Benitoite you can just tell is rude and insulting.

You grit your teeth. He starts to roll back over.

“I can’t. It’s too tight to sleep in and the skirt is big.”

Outside the thunder rolls, low and foreboding. Silence swallows the room and you know your cheeks are warm. Maybe he won’t notice in the dim light.

He jangles as he pushes himself up now, hair pale as moonlight falling across his forehead and cheek as he tilts his head. And then slowly, oh so slowly, he grins in a way that corkscrews a blaze of heat right through you.

“So lemme make sure I got this. You’re askin’ me to undress you?”

You steel yourself. “And to give me your shirt.”

That wipes the grin right off his face. “Whaddaya mean ‘give you my shirt’? Do you know-”

“I’m sure it’s more expensive than all the buildings in Rhodolite but I am going to sleep in that bed and I am not going to do it in just my undergarment!”

Your tone is firm, much more confident than you actually feel. Again the thunder outside is the only sound as he stares, those cobalt blue eyes fixed on you with the intensity and depth of a storm-tossed ocean.

“Please.” It comes out small, a tiny crack in the wall of confidence you’ve been presenting him with. The word has slipped out, unbidden and the heat in your face feels unbearable. Have you lost your mind, asking him to do this? “N-Nevermind, I’ll-”

Your stammering drops off as he stands, his elegant fingers reaching under soft white ruffles to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He does not meet your gaze and you wonder if that darkness in his face is a blush to match your own. Then the white shirt is off and he’s standing before you, his upper body surprisingly sculpted and shockingly bare. His necklaces lay against his fair skin and there is something so intimate about the sight your breath catches.

“So the lady likes what she sees.” Dragging your gaze away from all the exposed skin and corded muscle, you see that grin has returned to those lips and you draw a quick breath, spinning around and presenting him with your back (which happens to conveniently hide a blush so fierce it must be glowing.)

“Just get on with it.”

The wooden floorboards creak underfoot as he crosses to where you are standing. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this close to him before. You didn’t dance together at the ball and as far as you can remember the only time you’ve ever touched was when you first met and he offered you his hand, a sharp thrust in your direction that felt more like he was going to stab you with an invisible dagger than an introduction.

But now he is so close you can smell his cologne, something unexpectedly soft that vaguely reminds you of the sea on a dark, clear night. Your body is electric with an awareness that ripples across your skin with every inhale and exhale he makes. Outside, the rain is endless, the thunder unflagging. But their sounds are drowned out by the sudden pounding of your heart, by the beat of a thousand butterfly wings sending your blood rushing through your veins like the current of a wild river. He begins pulling on the satin bow of your gown, undoing the careful knot.

“The laces can be tricky,” you say just to say something, anything. Is that really your voice, so breathy and soft?

You realize your mistake instantly because he answers you and his voice is right by your ear, curling around the shell of it.

“I got more than enough experience with knots,” he murmurs.

“Because of all the people you’ve bedded,” you mutter. Why did you say that? And why does the thought of Silvio in bed with anyone make your fingers curl into your palms?

He’s released the knot and begins loosening the stays, tucking those nimble fingers underneath each crisscross and tugging, not roughly as you would have imagined but with precision, loosening each section deliberately, skillfully.

“Because I’m a sailor,” he says matter-of-factly, surprising you yet again. He tugs again and the bodice of your gown suddenly slips, sending you scrambling to keep the whole thing up. He leans closer still, his lips mere centimeters from your ear. “And because of all the people I’ve bedded.” He’s undone your gown but you’re being wrapped up again, this time in his silken, serpentine words..

Your heart leaps in your chest and you stumble away, holding up your dress with both arms, swallowing against the unexplainable tightness in your throat.

“Your shirt.” You hold the ivory satin to your chest with one arm and hold out your free hand, palm up. He practically strolls back to the bed (how he manages to do that in such a small space is a mystery), picks up his shirt and with a shameless grin, throws it at you.

You don’t reach for it with both hands as he may have hoped, instead catching it one-handed and there is a flash of something in his eyes. Disappointment? Admiration? Both?

“Turn around.”

He lifts his hand, jeweled rings on nearly every finger and covers his eyes.

“Silvio.” Consternation swells his name. It looks like he’s peeking.

“What? I ain’t lookin’!”

There is too much running wildly through your mind, too many blurry thoughts twisting in incomprehensible circles to worry about whether or not the man is going to sneak a look at you or not. You turn your back to him and let your gown drop to the floor with a whoosh.

He didn’t plan to look. But the rings on his fingers don’t allow him to hold them together completely and when your dress makes that sound, his eyes open of their own accord and through the narrow space between his fingers he catches a glimpse of your naked back. The curve of your hip and dip of your waist. The shapely line of your legs.

The thunder rumbles a warning and he quickly closes his eyes again, alarmed at the sharp, hot pang of want slicing its way through his body. You? No. He doesn’t want–

One blue eye slowly opens, this time without any excuse. You’re wearing his shirt. It falls to the back of your knees and somehow looks better than any dress ever would. There is a tension slowly winding its way across his neck, his shoulders, a tightening in his gut at the sight. And then you turn, buttoning the final few buttons and his mouth goes dry at the fleeting glimpse of your décolleté. .

What the fuck…..He forces his eyes closed again, his jaw clenched against the swift desire you unknowingly provoked.

You scramble towards the bed and dive under the blanket, pulling it up and over your chest.

“Okay,” you murmur. “You can look now.”

He mumbles something that sounds like “Finally”, his voice oddly hoarse, as he lays back down but on top of the covers.

“You can get under the covers. You’ll get cold if–”

“I’m fine, lady,” he snaps, a dog snarling at the hand offering it a pet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have no shirt on and it’s not all that warm in here. You’ll get sick.”

“I don’t get sick,” he says haughtily and for a moment, your exasperation overrules the awkwardness.

“Fine. Whatever you say.” You pointedly roll away from him, trying to ignore how soft his shirt is, how good it smells, how comforting it is against your skin as the world outside rages with wind and water.

“This bed sucks.” His voice is rough, irritated. You glance over your shoulder. He’s laying on his back, his hands behind his head, staring at the slanted wooden beams of the ceiling. Despite the bareness of his upper body, it’s his profile that captures your attention. The fall of his pale hair. The slant of his cheekbones. The straight, aristocratic nose. His perfectly sculpted lips. A sudden, wild thought bursts through the chaos of your mind: what would they feel like on your lips? On your skin?

Outside the thunder booms, a furious sound so powerful it shakes the window, like a giant quaking the earth with its powerful steps. A small cry of surprise and trepidation escapes you.

He turns his head. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

You roll onto your back, not wanting to face the window and the darkness outside. An uncontrollable shiver rolls through you and you tug the covers up, closer to your chin.

“Rhodolite doesn’t have storms like this often." Your heart is hammering because of the deafening clap of thunder, right? It has nothing to do with the preposterous thoughts spinning like coins through your head just before.

“Benitoite does.” He returns his gaze to the dark wooden beams above. “Be grateful you’re not on the deck of a ship durin’ a storm like this.”

You glance at the window, illuminated by a burst of lightning and then turn, rolling completely away from it to face him.

“What was it like?”

Silvio glances at you, then quickly back to the ceiling. “This little rain shower’s got nothin’ on a storm that crept up on us while we were out to sea, sailin’ back from Tanzanite…..”

He speaks and you listen, each word a small fairy light blinking into existence, leading you down a path, away from the storm outside the small guesthouse in the middle of the Rhodolite countryside, and into the eye of a hurricane. One that rocks the carrack Silvio is on, homeward bound from far-away Tanzanite.

He paints the picture so well, his voice low, blending in with the unrelenting barrage of rain on the darkened window pane. You can see him in your mind’s eye, soaked through, swallowing salt water and his fear as he clings to wet, stinging ropes, his boots sliding across the slick deck. Men’s shouts fade into the roar of the wind. A body is plucked from the ship and tossed like a ragdoll through the howling wind, lost forever to the churning, briny depths. The ocean is enraged, a wild beast bucking and kicking blindly. The ship groans and tilts, battered by the winds, tossed by the wild waves. Silvio’s vision is blurred as he seeks out the helmsman, valiantly still at the massive wooden wheel and makes his way across the dangerously open deck. A wall of water slams into him and he knows if he doesn’t fight, he will be washed out to sea. Dogged determination fills him. Out here he isn’t a prince, fighting for his father’s approval, fighting to be seen as someone worthy. Out here in the elements he is a man, fighting for his very survival, all his gold and jewels and titles worn down to nothing by the wild storm, like mighty mountains that have been reduced to pebbles by the persistence of rain over centuries. He roars in the face of the wind and the rain, clawing his way up to the petrified helmsman. “Insieme!!” Together.. His ringed fingers wrap around the wooden handles, between those of the helmsman. Their gazes meet and as lightning blanches the sky, they both turn with all their might……

“The sea claimed four men that night. Ain’t small, the price of lovin’ her.” He trails off, the experience slowly fading back into the mist of his memory. His blue eyes, darker and softer than you’ve ever seen them, blink as he returns to the small room at the top of the inn and the woman lying next to him.

You’re still on your side, facing him, your gaze held completely at attention by his face, his voice. His story not only distracted you from the storm outside, but had pulled you in, had you inching closer, heart hammering in your chest as you hung on every word.

But he’s run out of words, that barrier now gone, and there is nothing between you. Just your gaze locked with his, your chest rising and falling as you stare into those azure depths, wondering if the tempest outside will be what causes you to helplessly fall into all that blue, another voyager lost in the ocean of his eyes.

You may be balancing on attraction’s razor-thin edge, but he is no better off. All he can think about is the softness in your expression, the part of your lips, and how he wants nothing more than to capture them and steal the taste of your mouth for himself, hoard it along with the other treasures he already has of you from tonight. The line of your bare back, the light in your eyes, the whisper of your breathing. Just a few centimeters and he would touch you. A few more and he could-

A loud clap of thunder breaks the moment, snapping it in two. You jump, shaken from the hold his gaze had on you, a loud gasp escaping your throat. He jerks back, suddenly aware of just how close the two of you were. There is a faint flush across his cheekbones as he runs a hand through his soft, silvery hair.

“Stop bein’ such a baby. I just told ya how this is nothin’.”

That imperious tone feels like an affront after hearing him speak so softly before. You pull away as if stung and then gather yourself together so he won’t see the glimmer of hurt in your eyes.

“I’m not a baby. I was just startled and–” The way he’s tilting his head, a derisive smirk on his lips sends a flare of annoyance through you. “You know what? Just forget it.” Angrily you roll away from him, yanking the covers up over your shoulder. You don’t see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, the way his fingers reflexively uncurled when you turned away, his body knowing what it wants long before his mind.

You don’t see how long his gaze lingers on you before he finally forces himself to look away.

Sleep does not find you. You lay there as the oil lamp sputters out and the room is filled with dark shadows that scatter briefly when bright bursts of lightning illuminate the sky, a sky that continues to rampage with gusts of wind and cries of thunder.

Every single inch of you is aware of how close he is. You feel when he shifts his body, the movement disturbing the bedding. You’re still wrapped in the softness of his shirt, surrounded by his scent. And now you can hear the even sounds of his breathing.

Taking a chance, you glance over your shoulder.

He’s asleep on his side, still facing you, his pillow tucked between his arm and his head. You should turn away and continue your battle with wakefulness. You should stop staring at the locks of argent hair across his forehead. The curve of his arm. The graceful line of his torso.

Outside the thunder rolls. Your heart echoes its tremor.

You do eventually turn away from him but find yourself very slowly inching your way backwards, moving towards him until your body is touching his, the blanket still between you. Despite the coolness of the room, he has stayed on top of it. There is an almost palpable relief in the feeling of his form, the solidness of his body. The storm feels less angry, less destructive. Being this close to him feels right in a way you don’t want to explore, a nebulous thing on the horizon of your heart that you want to keep at bay.

And then he shifts in his sleep, throwing his arm around you and pulls you even closer against him.

You’re grateful he’s asleep or else the sudden galloping of your heart would surely wake him. It takes several breaths to calm the storm of butterflies in your chest, kicked up by your heart’s sudden racing. They settle down, wings still opening and closing at the feel of his strong arm, the curve of his body around yours. But there is also something warm slowly washing over you. A cocoon, a safe haven where you can finally close your eyes, finally feel the storm’s energy not as an enemy but as a companion, accompanying you as you drift off to sleep at last.

Silvio feels the way your body relaxes, the tension seeping from your muscles as you fall asleep, soft and trusting in his embrace.

If you only knew he has been awake throughout.

He stays awake for a long time, loath to move even a centimeter, feeling the warmth of your body through the blanket and listening to the sound of the rain.

Epilogue:

“Get up, lady. I need my shirt back.”

That voice falls into the still waters of sleep, hooking itself into your consciousness and drags you slowly to the surface.

Sleepily you push yourself up, raising a hand against the bright beam of sunlight spilling into the room.

Pushing your tousled hair out of your face, you find the Prince of Benitoite standing beside the bed, his jacket flung over his bare shoulder, one hand on his hip as he stares down at you. “Let’s go. We’re gettin’ out of this dump. Driver’s already waitin’.”

Irritation rears its little horned head and your eyes narrow.

“Good morning to you too.”

He ignores that and stretches out his hand. “My shirt.”

And we’re back to this. You sigh.

“Go wait outside the door.”

He regards you a moment and then turns on his boot heel and leaves the room. With a grimace you climb out of the warm bed, padding barefoot across the wooden floor until you’re by the entrance. As quickly as you can, you unbutton his white shirt and then stick your hand out the door with it dangling from two fingers.

He mutters something that you cut off with a slam, eyes closing for a moment as you catch your breath.

Did last night really happen? Was he….kind? And….warm? Did you really sleep in his arms?

A bang on the door jerks you out of your thoughts. “Move it or lose it!”

Oh for fuck’s sake. “Go already! I’ll be there!”

Somehow you are able to wrangle yourself back into your ball gown. Tying the back is tricky but you manage to get it closed enough to avoid any indecency. A quick re-pinning of your hair and buckling of your shoes and you're making your way down the wooden staircase. The innkeeper is at the counter, smiling through his fuzzy white beard in greeting.

“Morning, my lady,” he calls cheerfully.

The door to the inn is open and you can see the driver loading a few things back onto the carriage. Silvio is already inside.

“Thank you again for your hospitality, sir. I’m afraid I don’t have any coin for our stay, but I’ll be sure to return as soon as possible to pay-”

The older man shakes his head, waving you to a stop with his hand. “Oh no, no need for that my lady. Your…er…roommate already took care of it.”

You’re unable to hold back the surprise in your voice as you glance at the carriage and then back to the innkeeper. “He did?”

His eyes gleam as he reaches into the pocket of his worn vest and again, shock squeezes a silent gasp from your lips. In his work-worn, calloused hand, he’s holding two of Silvio’s bejeweled rings. His words from last night flash through your mind.

—“My clothes are worth more than everything in this room. Hell one of my rings probably more than this whole fucking inn.” –

The innkeep is oblivious to your stunned expression. “These’ll pay for any damage the storm caused and then some. I told that young man, he's welcome here anytime.”

You finally find your voice. “I….I’m glad to hear that. Thank you again.”

He bids you farewell as you walk outside into the startlingly bright sunlight. The smell of petrichor fills the air, the ground still damp as you walk towards the carriage.

The hazy feeling of something born in the fury of the storm….

Something nameless.

Something undeniable.

Something Silvio has awoken.

….is rising on delicate butterfly wings, inching its way closer to the realm of your heart.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci #ikemen silvio #silvio x reader #only one bed #broken heartstrings #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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ssweeterthanfiction · 1 month

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The grammys; 1978

Billy had seen her on the carpet earlier, and she looked stunning. Wearing a sparkling light purple maxi dress with a matching shawl in a darker purple shade draped over her shoulders, and her hair in an elegant updo, she outshined everyone on the carpet.

The papers had been calling her the “pop princess” and with her recent wind of fame, she was living up to her name. With her hit single, “Read Your Mind” hitting no. 1 on the billboard charts. She was finally getting everything she had worked for and deserved. And she really deserved it. After a tumultuous relationship with Billy Dunne, the frontman of Daisy Jones and The Six, she needed this.

Well, it wasn’t much of a relationship. He could hook up with as many girls as he wanted to, but she could never be with anyone but him because she was “his” girl. Between the girls, the drinking, the drugs, she finally had enough and disappeared from his life for 3 months.

And when she did come back, it was in the form of a radio station announcing her new album “Midnight’s Regrets.”

Billy was livid. She just disappeared, she never called, never left messages, she was just gone. And now she comes out with an album?

Bullshit.

What sucked most, the album was actually amazing. Debuting at number one, she was basking in the glory. And after the nominations for the grammy’s were announced…Billy wasn’t…happy to say the least. Sure, being nominated for record of the year was great and all, but he really wanted album of the year. But that honor would go to Midnight’s Regrets. As well as song of the year and best new artist. So while Billy’s band got 1 nomination, she got 3 nominations.

And now here they were, walking the red carpet. So close yet so far.

It was rumored that she was supposed to be performing, but she hadn’t confirmed anything to the media. But as the night went on, as everyone exited the carpet, they were seated, as groups and artists received their awards and gave acceptance speeches, Billy kept glancing back at her. They hadn’t spoken since she left him. Everytime he looked back at her, he was reminded about what he lost. He was reminded at how he would tell her she was replaceable, how she was like every other girl.

As the ceremony broke for commercials, Billy decided he was going to at least attempt to talk to her. But as he walked to her table, she was gone. After looking around for a few seconds, he decided to just go back to his table. There was some work going on the main stage but he payed no mind to it. But right as the ceremony went back on air, and once the host announced the next performer, that’s when Billy found out the rumors about her performance were true.

There she was, dancing, spinning and singing the lyrics to Read Your Mind on stage. The song was obviously about the so called “relationship” she had with Billy. With the mixture of her snarky lyrics and her attitude, she had the audience in the palm of her hand. And her outfit. Oh god her outfit. In a pink mini satin dress that had black lace trimmings as well as platform white gogo boots, she stole the show.

Billy could swear that she would look at him from the stage. And when she did, it was like she was singing the song directly at him. He couldn’t help but smirk as she stared him down as she hit her high note. Sure, she was singing about how he treated her badly, but after a “talk” with her after her performance, he was sure that her next album would be full of love songs, maybe even a song that featured the six.

check out the full billy fic here :)

(omg first time i have the confidence to write something and post it!! anyways ik it isn’t the best but i swear the next one will be better 🙏 anyways got super inspired by mrsnancywheeler and her little posts abt billy so yea :) live laugh love billy dunne)

#billy dunne #billy dunne x reader #djats #djats x reader #djats fic

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harveyguilleniconodelamoda · 25 days

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Guillermo's Green Wedding Suit

Ever since I first saw WWDITS 4x06: The Wedding, I have been entranced by Guillermo's suit. Not just because of the way it almost seems to match Nandor's outfit better than his actual bride's dress--that's a post for another time, and possibly a different blog--but also because of how such a deceptively simple outfit manages to stand out in an episode filled to the brim with incredible outfits.

It's just a suit, right? Next to Nandor's glittering ensemble, Marwa's silver-and-gold embellished gown, Baron Afanas's scarlet robes, and the dramatic getups of every other vampire in attendance, a simple suit shouldn't really stand out! But it does, and I think the reasons can be found by taking a closer look at all the highly specific details. Because this suit in fact is not "just a suit."

There are so many small touches and elegant flourishes that make it stand out not just from the other costumes in the episode, but from every other similar suit I've been able to find. Because dear readers, this one has truly stumped me in its sheer specificity. In fact it's so specific that I have to wonder if it was made completely from the ground up for the show (as opposed to being modified from a pre-existing base garment, the way Marwa's wedding gown was). Nearly every detail seems to have been chosen carefully with both the character and the occasion in mind.

The Jacket

First, we have a double-breasted tuxedo jacket with peaked lapels. A tuxedo jacket can be single or double breasted, but a double-breasted jacket is considered more formal whereas single-breasted jackets can be formal or more casual, depending on additional details and what it's worn with.

In addition, tuxedos can have notched, shawl, or peaked lapels, though it's worth noting that for a double-breasted jacket, you'll almost always find only peaked or shawl lapels.

Peaked lapels are considered the most formal, whereas notched lapels are considered the least formal. Shawl lapels fall somewhere in the middle, lending an air of sophistication and elegance without the rigid traditionalism of the peaked lapel. For me, when I think of a shawl lapel I think of like, a wealthy and debonair antagonist in a black-and-white movie. Vincent Price staging an elaborate haunted mansion ruse just to off his wife, that sort of thing (though I think he actually wore a jacket with a notched collar for most of that film, but I digress).

The peaked lapel also tends to be very wide and takes up a significant amount of space on the chest, which can look a bit ostentatious in some cases. On Harvey, however, the wide, peaked lapel feels balanced and elegant on the double-breasted jacket. It also serves to accentuate his broad shoulders and chest, which really gives him added presence in a room where it would be all too easy for him to fade into the background with everything going on around him.

Lastly, lapels are traditionally either the same fabric as the rest of the suit, or faced with satin. In this case, it appears the lapels are the same fabric in a contrasting color, which is a sophisticated choice that pops without being overly showy.

Now on to the pockets! Generally, there are three types of suit pockets: flap, patch, and besom. There's also an optional ticket pocket, which is typically on the right slightly above the regular pocket. But this suit clearly lacks a ticket pocket, so we won't go into that here.

For the main two pockets near the waist, the patch pocket is pretty informal and would be unlikely to appear on a double-breasted tuxedo jacket. Flap pockets are more traditional and common, and besom pockets are more modern and give a sleeker overall line. Besom pockets are usually my preference for this reason, but this suit has the more common flap pockets, which I think works given the overall traditional design of the jacket in other respects.

This continues with the buttons on the jacket's sleeves. Suit jackets can have between one and four sleeve buttons, with one button being considered the most casual option, and four being the most formal. Guillermo's jacket has four buttons on the sleeves, again the most formal option. The buttons--on both the sleeves and the front of the jacket--appear to be fabric-covered shank buttons, which are a popular choice for formal wear.

So for Nandor's wedding, Guillermo has gone with the most formal and traditional options available at every turn so far. This makes sense, given this is not only a wedding, but the wedding of a very old vampire...and someone Guillermo cares a great deal about. Given how much work Guillermo puts into making Nandor's wedding perfect, it only makes sense he would want to be dressed appropriately for the occasion himself.

The fit of the jacket is impeccable as well. Notice in the photos at the top and bottom of this post, how smoothly the fabric falls over Harvey's chest and shoulders, with no bunching, gaping, or stressed seams under the arms or across the chest. The jacket's inset sleeves help with this, creating a powerful and masculine silhouette with clean lines. Note, too, how the sleeves of the jacket fall precisely where they're meant to, hitting just at the bend in the wrist and showing just a peak of the sleeve of the sweater underneath.

The Pants

When I was researching suit pants I thought for sure these would be pleated pants, but I was surprised!

Pleats on the front of men's pants are there to accommodate wider waists, rounder hips or thicker thighs, and larger posteriors. The addition of pleats helps to facilitate a comfortable fit that allows for easier movement, as well as to avoid gaping of the pockets and stress on the seams when sitting. Though the extra fabric required can create more bulk on a thin frame, pleats can actually help to maintain a cleaner, more streamlined appearance for anyone else as the wearer moves, stands, sits, bends, etc. Pleats are also generally more traditional and formal than flat front pants, to the point of even being considered old-fashioned and stodgy by today's standards. Flat front pants are considered more modern and fashionable.

What's surprising is that Harvey's suit pants appear to be flat front instead of pleated. Given how traditional and formal the jacket is, I expected the pants to follow suit (hah). But in this photo from Harvey's Instagram account, the jacket is off and you can clearly see the front of the pants, which are high-waisted and appear to have no pleats at all.

What I find impressive is the overall tailoring of the pants. Given my research on the purpose of pleats, I would expect flat front pants to present some fit issues with Harvey's curves. But these pants fit him beautifully, front and back. My guess (and my limited experience with wearing men's trousers on my curvy body does bear this out) is that the high waist--which itself is a more old-fashioned style for men's trousers that lends a vintage feel to the ensemble, especially with the jacket removed--helps to alleviate these concerns. The high waist also contributes to that vintage, classic feel that the jacket evokes.

The Color

The suit is a deep, saturated, mossy green with warm undertones. Green suits are having a moment right now, providing a welcome alternative to the traditional black or navy options. Green is part of the natural color pallet, and is a popular choice for outdoor or otherwise non-conventional weddings.

This shade looks incredible on Harvey, bringing out the golden tones in his skin while really emphasizing the warm red undertones in his hair and eyes. It's far more subtle than the bright emerald greens currently on the market, and far richer than the almost khaki army greens I could find as well. This moody, earthy color stands out while also feeling grounded against the bright backdrop of a vampire wedding, which works beautifully given how Guillermo is a grounding force for Nandor throughout the episode.

The Fabric

The suit is made of a fabric that looks to be both heavy and soft, potentially wrinkle-resistant--a highly practical choice given everything Guillermo was likely doing that day as both the best man and wedding planner. It looks too sturdy to be a ponte fabric, though ponte is ubiquitous when it comes to plus sized suiting (again, I speak from regretful experience). It's too wrinkle-free to be twill, too smooth in texture to be tweed, and in some shots seems to almost have a suede-like finish. It also looks to be much more of a winter suit than a summer one, which makes sense given the show often takes place in fall and winter.

I've scoured the internet, Laura Montgomery's Instagram, and anything else I could think of for information on what this suit is actually made of, to no avail. For now, it will remain a mystery. If you have ideas, feel free to leave them in the replies or a reblog!

The Shirt

The one place Guillermo breaks completely from tradition is in the shirt he wears with the suit. Instead of the standard tuxedo button-up and bow tie you'd expect with the exceedingly formal jacket, Guillermo wears a cream-colored turtleneck of what looks to be a light cashmere, with a ribbed collar and cuffs and no tie at all. This single departure from formality and tradition modernizes the entire ensemble and ties it more closely into Guillermo's everyday, sweater-based style. Additionally, keeping Guillermo's neck covered in a house full of unknown vampires is just practical, a great way to help avoid having to stake anyone at his Master's wedding. Speaking again of Vincent Price, the sweater reminds me of this shot:

Actually...looking at how Guillermo's hair is styled for the wedding, I now have to wonder if that was intentional. Evoking Price is certainly a great way to combine vampire-appropriate spookiness and wedding-appropriate vintage glamour at the same time! But I digress.

The texture of the sweater contrasts with the texture of the suit, adding depth and an almost cozy feel without dressing the outfit down at all. Warm, soft, cozy, earthy...Guillermo really is dressed like the personification of hearth and home, security and stability...in an episode where Nandor is marrying someone else he doesn't truly love in search of exactly that (there I go again, diving off into the symbolism).

Accessories

The Y suspenders that fasten to buttons on the inside of the waistband of the pants are more expensive and formal than clip-on suspenders, but also much sturdier and less likely to come undone. This is less wedding-specific and more a staple of Guillermo's overall style since season 3. His wardrobe has always been full of sturdy, hard-wearing pieces, but an added layer of practicality has crept in since he found he was a vampire slayer. His clothes need to be something he can move in without worry of either restriction or being tripped up, so he has incorporated little accessories that help with this. He's traded soft loafers in for sturdy boots, sweaters in (sometimes) for hard-wearing work vests, and he's added accessories such as suspenders which help keep his clothes securely in place so he doesn't have to worry about them when he's working or fighting. In this case, it's a solid choice because he could potentially have to do either one, if any of Nandor's fears about saboteurs had turned out to have any merit.

I only have one shot that shows the shoes worn with this suit, but they appear to be black leather dress loafers with a silver accent of some kind on the tongue.

I'll be honest: this is the one detail of the outfit I didn't love. I know it's done nowadays to mix metals in a single outfit, and I think it can be done well and look really beautiful in some instances. In this case, though, it kind of just looks like Guillermo grabbed his one single pair of dressy shoes without regard to how well they actually matched his outfit. But this doesn't seem to jive with the intentionality of the rest of the outfit at all. The choice of a loafer does lean into that debonair, old Hollywood glamour effect, but the silver accent clashes with everything else. With Guillermo decked out in warmth from head to toe, that pop of cold just feels like an odd choice.

This could, of course, be a character choice. It could even be meant to mirror the silver and gold accents on Marwa's dress. But looking at it purely as an outfit, I don't think the shoes work.

The gold watch, on the other hand, is a beautiful addition. It's clearly a flex of Guillermo's newfound financial stability, but it's also a beautiful piece of jewelry that sets off the warmth of the green suit. It's a touch of luxury on an otherwise understated outfit that goes very well, in my opinion.

Lastly, Guillermo appears to wear his regular, everyday glasses here. The round frames, while a bit old-fashioned generally speaking, go well with the traditional, vintage feel of the ensemble.

Affordable Options

Unfortunately the chances of getting a suit for under $100 are slim to none if you want anything that doesn't look like it came from the discount section of a Spirit Halloween, especially when you're trying to find something as specific and detailed as this.

That being said, green suits are currently very in style, so I've gathered as many options in the same vein as I could find and listed them for you here.

Green double-breasted tuxedo with velvet peak lapel - $249 from Perfect Tux (sizes up to 42 waist at regular price, +$10 for additional sizes up to 50 waist)

Men's green double-breasted suit with peak lapel - $83.65 from manswiersuit on eBay (sizes up to 52 waist available, with custom sizing offered at an additional cost)

Statement men's hunter green vested tuxedo with black trim shawl lapel - $249.99 from Karako Suits (sizes up to 52 Long)

Sand cashmere turtleneck - $199 from John Henric (sizes up to XXL)

Cashmere company turtleneck - $102 from Yoox (size 44 currently available)

All year round turtleneck sweater - $59 from Franky Fashion (sizes up to 6X, only S, XXL, XXXL, and 4X currently available)

#guillermo de la cruz #wwdits #character costumes #fashion #formal wear #menswear #men's suits #harvey guillén

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thewildbelladonna · 1 year

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Bella Donna Stevie & Snoopy ♥

#stevie nicks #fleetwood mac #bella donna #bella donna tour #white winged dove tour #1981 #satin shawl #white shawl #fringe #leg warmers #platform boots #suede boots #stuffed animals #stuffed toys #snoopy #flowers #mic stand decorations #black and white

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aghostbride · 2 months

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Greetings!! Just posting a fanfic I wrote for my homework :33 (Yes, it is Lennabel) this is also posted on ao3 and wattpad!

——————————–-`♡´-–——————————

A Clandestine Night

In the heart of town, a wealthy man threw a lavish ball, inviting only his closest friends. The event hums with excitement as guests anticipate a night of luxury and camaraderie.

Annabel Lee Whitlock, an undercover spy seeking the rich man's wealth, disguised as one of the man's guests. As for her disguise, she posed as Arabella Delphine, one of the plush man's trusted friends. For her plan to work out, she must not be seen by the host otherwise she would be caught with no way out.

To fit in with the guests, she wore a Midnight Blue bust down strapless evening dress with a black shawl around her upper arms, she had black long satin gloves.

There she arrived at the party right on time, the greeter at the entrance checked her name on the guest list. She was let in effortlessly, she smiled at this—this was gonna be easier than she thought. She walked among the crowds, the giggles and laugh of the other guests rang in her ears yet this didn't distract her, she continued on with her mission of finding the host’s vault.

She was wandering around trying to find a way to sneak into the vault when suddenly she stumbled upon a… woman with a suit? “How unusual…” she dusted off her dress, staring into the woman right in front of her.

“Greetings, I apologize for bumping into you.” she hurriedly spoke, worried.

“It's fine, really. What's your name dear?” Annabel smiled, tucking a strand of her curled hair behind her ear.

“My name's Lenore, Lenore Vandernacht. Pleasure to meet you.” Lenore smiled back, kissing the back of Annabel's hand.

She introduced herself. “I'm Arabella Delphine.” She continued on her disguise, not letting that kiss on the hand expose her.

“Ah! You're one of the host’s friends, yes?”

“Indeed, are you not one of his friends?”

“... I am, yes! I just thought you were one of the staff.”

“A staff?.. wearing a dress?”

"Oh! Well, can the staff not wear formal dress wear in a party as well?” Lenore smiled innocently, a hint of an annoyed tone hidden behind her voice.

Annabel glared “Hm, I suppose.” She uttered in defeat.

The two stood there awkwardly, waiting for the other to speak. It was only a few seconds but time seemed to drag on endlessly, Annabel just wanted to leave and continue to her mission but the other woman spoke.

“What brings you to the party?”

“Well I was invited, of course I would attend it. I never miss a party.”

“Ah, a partygoer. What's your work?”

“Oh, my dad owns a company. It's called ‘AD’ he's planning to make me CEO.”

“I've heard of that company before, are you the daughter of Ambrose Delphine?”

“Indeed, I must leave. I'm meeting up with a friend.”

“I understand, apologies for disturbing you.”

“It's quite alright, it was a pleasure talking to you. Ta-ta!” With that, Annabel quickly left.

Lenore, with a gleam of mischief dancing in her eyes and a playful smirk curling her lips, watched intently, her gaze fixed upon the target. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she transmitted her observation through the concealed earpiece, her voice laced with amusement as she confirmed, "Yeah, I got her in sight.”

At the same time, Annabel finally found the vault. Thoughts of getting richer crossed her mind, but she reminded herself to focus on the task at hand. There she twisted the lock instantly opening it, she smiled at the sight of glowing gold before her. Before stepping in, she stopped. She thought for a moment, “This is way too easy,” a hint of suspicion lingered in her voice, she continued “There must be a catch.” she observed inside the vault, trying to find anything unusual or suspicious. When she found none, she took a deep breath before stepping in. No alarms were set up, she let out a sigh of relief. She took out a bag and started with the money first.

After that, she moved on to the gold but she was stopped. She heard a familiar voice behind her speak, her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Well, well, well.. Hello ‘Arabella’.”

Annabel turned around facing the woman she talked to earlier, Lenore. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was worried that you wouldn't find your way to your little friend.” Lenore spoke sarcastically. “Tch, I knew you were aiming for the vault. I knew you from the start Annabel Lee Whitlock.”

A drop of sweat fell from Annabel's face as she glared at the woman in front of her. She could feel the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. “What do you want, Lenore?”

Lenore just smirked playfully, walking closer to the Spy. She whispered in her ear, “Put those back Annabel Lee.”

Therefore Annabel lunged at Lenore, pinning her to the ground. Afterwards Lenore punched her in the face, leaving a bruise. Annabel groaned and stood up, a death glare could be seen. Lenore pinned her against the wall, leaving almost no space between them.

Annabel kicked her in the stomach and ran with money and some gold in her bag. Lenore stumbled and fell on the floor, landing on her butt. She quickly stood up and ran after Annabel, but it was too late, Annabel was already near the exit and Lenore would never reach her. However she kept running after her.

Annabel took off her heels and ran even faster. She got into her getaway car, and the driver drove off, leaving Lenore behind. She stood there, fuming that she hadn't caught the criminal. With a sigh, she informed her boss that she hadn't succeeded in apprehending the criminal. With that, she returned to the party.

During that time, Annabel began to breathe heavily once she got in the car. Exhausted from the running, she glanced at the driver, who wore a puzzled expression.

“Prospero, I- *pant* I didn't get all of it. But I got some!”

Prospero, the driver spoke with a satisfied tone. “Well done, Annabel.”

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Btw this is what Annabel was wearing :3 (CREDITS TO @/rednflynn ON TWT OFC!!!! :DDD)

≽^•⩊•^≼

#nevermore #nevermore webtoon #fanfic #writing #writers on tumblr #lenore nevermore #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee nevermore #annabel lee x lenore #lennabel #OH MY GOD THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG #1K WORDS?? AM I INSANE??????#I loved writing this either way #I THINK I DID GOOD

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holygrailimagines · 1 year

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Perfect

Summary: Very short, fluff, reader x memo

You and Memo were the classic black cat and golden retriever couple. You were introverted, he was extroverted. You liked simple colors; he liked eccentric colors. You were fall and he was spring. Despite all these differences, everyone knew you guys were perfect for each other.

Tonight, you were both at an extravagant event. You were wearing a simple, cream, satin dress. The thin straps hung on your shoulders as the dress hugged your body perfectly. A thin shawl of the same color and material, loosely intertwined between your arms. Memo was dressed in a light blue suit that was fitted especially for him. You guys were seated at a round table, decorated with a white cloth and dimly lit candles. You held his hand under the table, his thumb caressing your knuckles. Memo was making great conversation with the guests, and you would watch, admiring the man who was yours for life. Sometimes, you would pip in and every time you did, Memo would kiss you on the cheek. After some time, it seemed as though the music got louder, beckoning the guests on to the dance floor.

“Do you want to dance, mi reina?” He asked, whispering in your ear. You bit your lip, shaking your head no.

“Not now Memo, can we just sit for a while longer?” You replied, you just needed some time to adjust before being thrown into another social activity. He pecked you on the lips, he used one hand to brush a strand away from your face. Your eyes glossed under the candle lights, and you watched as his face softened.

“Of course, mi amor.” He said, knowing that you weren’t big on dancing anyway. You guys spoke a little more at the table, laughing and caressing each other. Finally, you decided it was time to dance. You stood up, placing your shawl on the back of the chair. Memo smiled lovingly, he stood up and held your hand, leading you through the crowd of people. The music was soft and slow, almost like it was made for you guys, for this moment exactly. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. Your arms intertwined around his neck; your cheek pressed against his cheek. You both swayed to the music, and it felt like it was just the two of you. If you could, you would stay like this forever.

#memo ochoa imagine #memo ochoa #memo ochoa x reader #ochoa imagine #ochoa x reader #guillermo ochoa imagine #guillermo ochoa #seleccion mexicana

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vibratingskull · 8 months

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The Ball part 1

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Tag list

ThrawnxF!reader

It is time for the ball, time to enjoy yourself before taking your responsabilities in the Marine, maybe time to try your luck with Thrawn. What could go wrong anyway?

You look at your reflection in the minuscule mirror of your shared room in the Academy. You rotate yourself to inspect your gown for this special evening. Karyn has really good taste, the claret-red dress is simple yet elegant, fitting with open shoulders, laces in the back and a silver vine embroidered at the cloth’s feet.

"Thanks again for the dress." You tell her across the room while checking your makeup.

"You're welcome!Show me when you are ready!"

You stomp your foot to test your shoes and feel a tingle of pain. Your wound from the exam didn't heal completely it seems, you’ll need to be cautious but it will do for tonight.

"Prepare to be amazed… Ta-daaa!"

You theatrically push the door to reveal yourself in a model pose. You've really outdone yourself this time, you managed to strike a balance between your favorite look and what was deemed appropriate for such a high-class event. Karyn raises her head from her luggage and her eyes widen, she offers you her hand to make you turn on yourself to see every detail.

"Verdict?" you ask, hopefully.

"Wow… You are striking!"

"Thank you, fair Lady." You respond mimicking her reverence. You turn back to the mirror once again with bubbles in your stomach. "Is everything alright?"

"Your makeup is perfect. Your hair is gorgeous. Let me check your back." You feel her pulling and the laces bite your flesh. "The knots are well tightened. You're ready for-- The pin!"

She grabs a little jewelry on your desk and comes back to carefully attach it on the left of your chest. You observe the insignia of the Royal Imperial Academy engraved in a chromed metal. It isn't exactly pleasing to look at, but it is this pin or the uniform.

"I wish I could have come with you tonight. It won't be the same now that you have finished your training." She tells you with a drop of disappointment in her voice.

You put her in a hug. You realize it will be difficult to see each other from now on. She still has two years here in the Academy while everyone in your class has learned their assignment.

"Ho sweetheart, I would have loved it too. Parties are always more fun when you are around! In two years you too will have the privilege to attend this pompous party and put up with the Gotha."

You both laugh and hug one another, appreciating the presence of your friend one last time. Outside a humming is getting clearer, indicating shuttles for the Opera House are starting to arrive.

She motions her head towards the door.

"The shuttles must be ready. You should go."

You get your purse and a satin shawl, and hug her one last time.

"We’ll stay in contact. If someone annoys you I’ll come back to give them a lesson."

"Yes, mom! Now leave or they’ll go without you."

You wave a last goodbye and join the rest of your comrades in the elevator. Everyone is dressed-up, all the women in dresses are wearing high quality fabrics, not to mention elaborate jewelry and expensive perfumes which threaten to overwhelm your nose in the cramped elevator. Unfortunately, the pin clashes with most of their attire. All the the men and some of the women are wearing a black variation of the military uniform, with an addition of golden and white embroideries on the pants, the cuffs and the collar and golden epaulets.

Everyone is terribly nervous.

Tonight, under the eyes of their families and all the top names of Coruscant, they will take their first step into High Society. The pressure must be unbearable. As for you and the other Outer Rim students you will surely spend this night dancing, drinking and eating the most elaborate dishes at the expense of the rich and, maybe, finding new relationships with the well-born and other high officiers, depending on your state of sobriety.

You are sure Eli and Thrawn will be carrying you back. You can already hear Eli's lectures about alcohol and how careless you are. Thrawn will only sigh silently but help regardless, saving the scolding for tomorrow while you will laugh and cluck, taking them both in your arms crying about the idea of being separated and how much you will miss them, like a bad holodrama. This idea makes you giggle internally. You hadn’t seen the duo since the graduation ceremony, you hope they got the placement they asked for.

You step out of the elevator with your classmates. Some of them go straight outside to enter the shuttles whereas the others gather with their group of friends or date. You recognize some of the couples. The divide between those there of their own free will vs. the will of their parents was obvious by their expressions.

Your two favorite calamities are not in sight, they must be on the docks.

Passing the door of the Academy, a fresh breeze comes caressing your skin cooling down the planet city's heat. You approach the end of the platform and take a moment to observe the lights of the skyscrapers and holos, to hear the sounds of the population living and laughing all around you, feeling the heart of the city beating.

Heading toward the docks, you finally see the duo outside of an open shuttle. They look like high generals in their regalia. Eli even coiffed his mane behind his head. It must have been difficult to comb but the result was worth it.

Thrawn didn’t change his hairstyle but the black fabric and golden intricacies give him a majestic appearance, contrasting with the blue of his skin that seems to glow in the moonlight. His usual formal demeanor enhances his dignified and assured look. He really is handsome.

As you approach them, you feel a weird tension coming from them. Thrawn stands straight as is his habit with his hands clasped behind his back, but appears stiffer than usual, while Eli is leaning against the ship, arms crossed. Did they have an argument? You really want to enjoy this party. It will be difficult enough with egocentric toffs, howler politicians and ISB members. Your friends can’t be fighting on top of all of that.

"Well hello, good sirs. What are two fine gentlemans such as yourself doing this lovely evening?” You ask as you bow to them with a smile, trying to ease the mood

Thrawn snaps out of his mutism upon hearing your voice, as he visibly relaxes. Eli raises his head with a relieved sigh. He jumps to offer you his hands, bowing to you, keeping up the act.

"We were waiting for a fair Lady to escort. She finally decides to honor us with her presence."

He winks at you and conducts you to the shuttle. Eli enters first and scowls at Thrawn as he passes him.

Ever the stoic, Thrawn doesn’t address the hostile behavior. He simply tilts his head with a light smile as you approach.

"Lady (y/f/n)." He greets you with his soft baritone.

"Lieutenant Thrawn." You respond, gladly acknowledging his effort to play along.

You take the hand he gallantly offers and enter the shuttle.

It is elegantly decorated with white walls and padded seats in creamy shades. The bulbs provide just enough light to illuminate and give a softened and warm atmosphere. The ship is also divided into compartments with frosted transparisteel, which give groups a little privacy.

You hear Thrawn follow and close the door of the capsule. You both take a seat with Eli, already checking the programm for the party.

You take a seat just as the shuttle takes off with a buzzing sound. You press yourself against the viewport to see the city blurred by the speed. You have always liked to see the lights blend while being lulled by the quiet purring of the motors. The first minutes pass in silence, with you mesmerized by the lights, Eli staring into the distance and Thrawn silently reviewing the shuttle’s flyer on cultural destinations.

You switch back your attention when Eli grumbles.

"Why do we have to go anyway?"

"For the Gotha to present their new members and for the Empire to display their new loyal officers." You respond half joking. "But forget them, tonight we are here to enjoy ourselves. Where are you assigned?" You ask cheerfully.

Eli's face darkens and he slouches into his seat, arms crossed. Thrawn glances at him before answering you.

"We have been assigned to the Blood Crow around the border sectors."

"Together? That's amazing! Did you both get the position you wanted?"

Eli scoffs at this.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"And you?” Thrawn asked. “What will be your new duties?"

"I am now a Private First Class on the Zephyr Heavy cruiser."

Spirit seems to regain Eli as his eyes get shiny.

"The Zephyr? I know this ship, it regularly asks for my parents' services."

You squeeze Eli's hands with enthusiasm.

"Really? I may get the chance to meet them, then. I didn’t get to the other day."

Thrawn however, mildly frowns at this information.

"Private companies can obtain business deals with Imperial structures? Why not just use its own network?"

"Never heard about Imperial contracts? You will need to catch-up with more than just military technicalities if you want anything to get done here." Eli's hands clench in yours as he spits his response. You've never seen him so openly hostile toward Thrawn.

"I will study those aspects, thank you for sharing this information."

"Do what you want, as always." Eli slowly hissed while looking away from Thrawn.

Your heart stops at this answer and your blood freezes at Thrawn's expression. His face warps as an underlying anger starts to pierce the surface. You decide to interject before it escalates.

"Well, I don't know what you are both up to tonight, but the pair of you owe me a dance !"

They both slowly turn their heads toward you with surprise. It is almost comic.

You grin. "Listen boys, I know you won't likely take part in any waltz at this party, but I didn’t take two months of my time to teach you how to dance for you to be wallflowers. Consider this repayment for the lessons."

"You wouldn't dare do that to us," Eli pleads.

"You bet I would!" You close this matter with a satisfied grin.

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

The Galaxies Opera House is nothing less than breathtaking, with its multiple domes, its intricate circuits of corridors and suspended bridges leading to innumerables rooms and auditoriums. Anybody would feel tiny and insignificant next to this colossus.

You stand before it in awe. You've only seen it through the media that didn’t do it justice. On your left Eli lets escape an impressed whistle with his hand shielding his eyes. On your right Thrawn scans the edifice, surely in hope to spot a pattern.

While you are admiring the surroundings part of the crowd moves inside the Opera, composed of your classmates, some of your teachers, a number of local celebrities, governors, senators, councilors, and magistrates. You spot at least two Admirals and, most to your misfortune, several ISB members. You will need to be cautious around them.

Despite the security put in place, a large group of bystanders came to see the cream of Coruscant on a red carpet and several students started posing in pairs with excitement; others waved towards the journalists behind red ropes while climbing the stairs, and at least five are joined by their famous relatives under the whistles and cheers of the onlookers.

Others are only here to display their fortune and it shows, with multiples expensives layers of fabrics puffing them up like cream cakes, an embroidered train of several meters lazily dragging behind it's owner, a Lady wearing a single piece of armature that drawn her dress from her spine and combed her hair to the top of her head. Fashion designers were out of control this year. To think you had to follow a dress code while the rentiers could wear those.

"Are we… really obliged to go?" Eli asked uncomfortably, swaying on his two feet.

You agree with him, despite graduating from the Royal Imperial Academy as your comrades, your outer rim roots remind you that you are not part of this world of wealth and eccentricity, it is easy to get self conscious and discouraged. Thrawn on the other hand seems more bothered by the flashes of camera at the moment, protecting his eyes with his palm.

"Yes! Let's go!"

Without warning, you loop your arms between them and pull them inside with you, leaving behind the noisy crowd and paparazzis. You are quite surprised they didn’t try to escape your grasp. Thrawn stays by your side in silence, rubbing his eyes while Eli tightens his grip on your arm. It is far easier to navigate in a crowd as a block than alone against the current. After following the red carpet through several bridges and corridors, you finally arrive at the ballroom reserved for the Great Graduation Gala of the Royal Imperial Academy. As you pass the arches a thought enters your mind.

This is too much.

If the outside of the Opera is elegantly simple, the inside is a mess…

The Ballroom's domed roof makes use of all the available height provided. At least five levels circle around the main floor, each one designed according to the architectural fashion of the time. It is the most improbable room you have ever seen. Nowhere else in the galaxy could be found an auditorium bringing together a floor with vegetal designs and moldings, another with an obsession for symmetry and the purity of duracrete and one again with a contemporary interpretation of the Factory style with all variety of metals. Every floor is linked to the other thanks to a mural fountain in the shape of a geometrical labyrinth in deep black stones. And that’s not even taking into account the furniture, tapestries, and light fixtures.

The final product is… interesting. Yet again, given the clothing choice of the regulars of the place, it is expected.

You lean on to Thrawn with a grin.

"What can you deduce from this? I'm eager to hear your thoughts."

"An interesting display of various styles. But, beyond that, I have no ready opinion."

You laugh at his circonspect tone.

"You have the right to find this ugly, nobody will hold it against you."

Eli, who was examining the room, nudges Thrawn.

“I think I just saw Captain Virgilio of the Blood Crow near the columns. We better introduce ourselves.”

“You’re quite right.”

You let them go to salute their superior, just as you spot a pyramid of glass that looks irresistible. You push your way through the talkative masse to the buffet, observing the large choice of dishes and drinks. You are really tempted by the champagne and the Calamnsi. It will relax you a little. There is nothing like an alcohol glass to feign confidence.

You take a flute of Calamnsi, inhaling its scent. With its peach shades and tangerine fragrances, this drink possesses one of the highest alcohol concentrations despite having a soft taste. So soft, some children have mistaken it for some fruit juice and ended up completely drunk.

It's too strong for the beginning of this party, you decide to start with Champagne.

You're about to taste the golden spirit when a hand gently grabs your shoulder, almost making you drop your glass. You turn yourself only to see Eli with a finger on his mouth.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going to see the Captain with Thrawn." You ask with a low voice.

“I just suggested we introduce ourselves. Besides, Thrawn is capable enough to do it without me supervising him."

You pick up the annoyance in his tone.

"What's up between you too? You seem really upset by him."

"Nothing. What's in your glass?"

"Champagne."

"Is there anything stronger?"

You find him a shot of Burning Gin and he thanks you with a nod before drinking the electric blue liquid in one sip. His face immediately twists into a grimace.

"Maker," He gasps. "I can feel its burns all the way!"

"That’s the idea." You say with a smile.

You watch him as the alcohol slowly takes effect, relaxing his body little by little. He lets out a sigh of contentment.

"That feels much better."

You put your arm around his shoulder, gently pressing him against you.

"Eli, you can talk to me, you know?"

He puts his hand behind his neck. “It’s just this ball. It’s stressing me more than I thought it would.”

You sigh in resignation. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. You would have just preferred he didn’t openly lie to you. You stop insisting but keep your arm around him, offering him your presence. You both silently observe the ballroom and its inhabitants. All the chatter and clattering of glasses. How they slide across the floor in rhythm with the Orchestra. Some twirl with grace when some just hold their partners close to themself whispering sweet nothing to their ears, others watch like you and others talk business with smiles too bright to be completely honest.

You finish off your champagne and grab a glass of the Calamnsi. You make a silent toast with Eli, smiling, before turning back to the dancers. Unconsciously, you start to slowly rock together following the pace of the dancers and the instruments strings. You lay your head on Eli’s shoulder, enjoying the music vibrations through your body. He lays his head on yours and you stay this way, silently appreciating the moment with your friend.

"There you are.”

A strict voice brings you back to a reality where Thrawn looks at you with a displead expression. Next to you, Eli let an exhausted sigh escape.

"May I ask why you sneak out before your superior?" Thrawn asks behind a closed face.

"I simply didn't feel like it, that's all." Eli tries to answer politely but his tone is acid.

Thrawn blinks. He starts to open his mouth before Eli quickly interrupts.

"(Y/n), do you hear this? It's our dance, let's go!" Eli exclaimed joyfully.

He takes you by your wrist and you have just enough time to hand your full glass to Thrawn before getting dragged into the circle of dancers.

Leaving you no time to gather yourself Eli passes his hand on your back to your opposite hip and seizes your other hand before starting to twirl with the other couples. It takes you a second to stabilize yourself and properly follow his lead without mixing up your feet.

“Be more careful next time, I’ve almost tripped over someone!” You protest. “What’s with you so suddenly?”

He shoots you with his brightest smile.

“I was listening to the music and felt the irrepressible urge to invite my great friend to dance, nothing special!”

And getting away from Thrawn as quickly as possible, you silently complete. You shake your head and go up to speed with him, flying across the floor as the other dancers. At the corner of your eye you take a glimpse of Thrawn putting your empty glass away and starting a conversation with a high ranked person. At least he doesn’t appear more annoyed than that. You shift back your attention to Eli, carefully avoiding stepping on his foot.

“You said earlier we should try to enjoy ourselves tonight, and this is exactly what I am doing right now,” he insists.

You don’t respond but agree, all those dance lessons pay off. Ballroom dances are mostly done for showing off but you are genuinely having fun in the arms of your friend, from whisk to sidesteps, you skillfully display your dance talents, laughing along with him. As the dance progresses you get looser with more amplified movements and funky steps. Your whole body starts to get warm with the exercise and you can feel a light veil of sweat on your forehead. Enthralled by the energy, you stay for the next few dances. The Orchestra dropt the ballroom repertoire for more popular songs. A non neglecting number of the students come on the floor, giving free reign to their dance moves.

At the end of this segment you’re both out of breath and leave for a drink. While drinking you snap some photos with Eli as souvenirs, rapidly the smiles leave place to silly faces and you start scavenging the place to find other students and snap them together. Most of them are happy to oblige and give you their best smiles or their worst grimace and you join them in the picture. After that a significant amount of your class gathers for an unofficial photo and you go hands in hands with Eli. Someone thought it was a good idea to bring a champagne bottle that just exploded in their hands, soaking the group the moment the photo was taken. The final result is hilarious though.

You start feeling your wound and hear your stomach growl inelegantly. You also remember you’ve been drinking without eating a thing. You will collapse drunk if you don’t do something. You pour yourself a glass of water and turn yourself towards the canapes and petits fours with a ravenous smile. Eli imitates you and you start debating which variety of appetizers is the most tasty without minding the other distinguished guests around you. You're augmenting back to back, Eli’s more into the tomato and sesame canape and you prefer the sausage and groundberry one when an unknown voice is raised next to you.

“Excuse me, cadets.”

You raise an eyebrow, stopping mid-bite, looking toward the voice and see Thrawn with a new glass of Calamnsi in hand and an old man in a white uniform. The old man is looking at your surprised faces with an amused look, the corner of his mustache raised in a grin.

“Is it really how the new Empire’s officers should behave during an official party?”

Eli swallows his bite precipitately.

“Colonel Yularen?! I was not aware you would be here!”

Colonel Yularen, one of the ISB’s highest ranking officers? How do these two know this man? And more importantly why does he have to be here?!

They shake hands while you turn your back to swallow your bite and get rid of any crumbs you have on your face. You inspire deeply to give you strength and turn again with a broad smile, reaching your hand to him. He seizes it with a warm grasp.

“I don’t think we’ve met, Miss?”

“Miss (y/l/n), Sir.”

He stares at you with your hand still in his. You feel your heart sink. You use your mother’s name for safety reasons but since Thrawn proved it was still possible to trace back your affiliation you start thinking no name was safe enough to cover your traces. Did he recognise you already?

“Miss (y/l/n)... Truly a charming name, it suits you very well.” He adds with a comforting smile.

You nod mumbling thanks, secretly searching for any signs of suspicion on his face, but he seems relaxed and cheerful. As much as an ISB officer in service may be cheerful, but you're still on your guard.

As they start speaking between each other you try to calm down the heartbeat pounding in your head. Discussions and music become nothing more than white noise. You manage to concentrate on what is being said in front of you with some difficulty. You catch them speaking about the new assignments. Unfortunately it doesn’t take long for Thrawn and Eli to start a little argument once again. It’s then Yularen turns to you with a thin smile.

“You said you were not from Coruscant, is that so?”

“Yes,” you respond politely.

You didn’t say anything along those lines and you’re taken aback by his attempt at discussing your origins. Next to you Eli and Thrawn keep talking, unaware of your turmoil. He brings his glass to his lips without taking a sip pretending to search in his memory. You hold your breath.

“(y/l/n)... This name is not completely unknown to me… I am sure I have already heard it next to another one, but which one it might be?” He says, holding your gaze.

You’re convinced he’s lying. You gulp and clench your hand on your glass. His next words may upend your entire future. You suddenly feel terribly isolated in this overcrowded room and very alone.

“Miss (y/l/n), does the system-”

“Colonel Yularen.”

Thrawn interjects suddenly with a firm but calm voice. You both turn your gaze to him wondering why he had intervened. Eli also looks surprised.

“I am truly sorry to interrupt your discussion, but I have promised a dance to my friend and I have already missed my chance several times tonight.” He explains courteously.

Both men stare at each other a second before Yularen shrugs his shoulders.

“If it is a promise, I can oblige it.”

“Thank you Colonel.”

Thrawn finishes his glass, disposes of it and gently takes your hand to guide you among the dancers.

“Thank you.” You whisper on the verge of tears. Your wound does not ease things either.

“Your physical language was quite distressed, I thought you might appreciate some assistance.”

“More than you know, I knew I might cross some ISB agent but not a colonel. I am sure he knows about my family…” You answer in a drawl, your eyes fixed behind him on Yularen to not miss any admission of suspicion.

“Do you, now?” He asks, spinning you around.

You bite your lips to refrain from talking too much, you wanted to fully trust Thrawn but one could never be too cautious. You clench your hands against him in an effort to get a hold of yourself. You could cry a little to release some of the pressure but you're not in a good place nor good company to do it right now. He squeezes your hand and tightens his grip around your waist.

“Compose yourself. Do not let them see a weakness to use against you.”

What is rather irritating with Thrawn is his way of “consoling” people with cold hard facts, he appears to be incapable of managing friend's vulnerability and comforts them “by force”. You don’t answer anything and inhale deeply to calm you down, starting to pay attention to the dance.

Even though he didn’t mean it, he pulls you closer to him. You could almost put your head on his chest and you can once again feel his warmth spread from his body to yours. His scent reaches you and you note with pleasure he put on some cologne. You’re sure it’s Eli’s For some reason, the thought of Thrawn asking for perfume makes you chuckle and alleviates the atmosphere a bit.

You follow the music, hesitations, outside spins, whisks… each movement comes together with ease but you feel him more tense than during rehearsals.

“Does your back still hurt?” You ask looking up at him.

“Indeed. It appears I have not recovered completely.”

Speaking of injuries, your foot makes it known it won't endure another dance for long.

You close your eyes for a moment, concentrating yourself on the music. Following the accelerating tempo your feet flee after one another. The air grazes your skin as you twirl in each other's arms, and your dress feels like a soft veil that turns and follows your footwork like wings. You feel both weightless and grounded in his embrace. It's as if he's the only real thing tethering you to the world.

Your head is spinning deliciously, wrapped in every sound and music mingling in a background shush with only one singular steady beat. Surprised, you open your eyes to find your head resting on his chest, against his heart. Shocked but pleased, you let your head rest, careful not to make any movement that could prompt him to reject you. You feel a grin coming up on your lips.

“Thrawn?” Your words are whispered like a secret. “ Are we ever gonna discuss what happened?” You ask , raising your head to meet his gaze.

He regards you with blazing eyes in silence. You continue dancing eye to eye, Thrawn leading the both of you. You could swear he slowly goes off beat as time goes on, but… nevermind.

“(y/n)...”

You see his eyes jumping from your eyes to your lips repeatedly as he slowly leans toward you.

“Yes?” You hold your breath with expectations.

“You have crumbs on your face.” He says in all seriousness.

“Oh crap!”

You try rubbing your face against your shoulder the most discreetly possible, feeling a bit stupid now.

Thrawn is back in his usual upright posture like nothing happened. It would seem nothing could disturb the man. However, his missteps say otherwise. Maybe you did have some effect on him.

You're ready to throw a clever remark when you feel his hand in yours trembling a bit. Looking up at him you note he breathes shortly and gulps with difficulty.

“Thrawn? Is everything okay?” Your voice’s shaky, you’ve never seen him this way.

He leans on once again, his forehead almost against yours, his eyes closed. He's definitely hotter than usual. You turn your head to scan the room in research of a balcony or a window, fortunately there are enough dancers around you to hide you from the public eye. You hear the music approaching its end, you will soon be able to get him some fresh air.

His head slides against your skin and you turn back your attention to him, suddenly keenly aware of how close you really are. You can feel his breath on your mouth and it’s getting closer, you're stunned by this and wait without moving, with butterflies in your stomach and blood rushing to your cheeks.

Is it happening? Are you dreaming?

You wait expectantly, your mouth is slightly agape and ready to embrace his. You hold your breath as your lips are nearly about to touch.

But at the decisive moment his face slide from your forehead to the side, laying his

head on your shoulder and the music ends. You catch your breath unknowing if you must be relieved or hurt. Your hands leave their place to grab his arms, trying to raise him, you can feel his high temperature on your skin. The couples are slowly leaving the dancefloor and you will soon be the last one.

“(y/n), please… Escort me outside…” He says breathlessly.

You pass your arm under his and he raises back up. His sight is straight and his step is solid like always. You both cross the room without difficulty between guests, people tend to move off of his way and tonight is no exception, especially under his burning gaze. Nobody would suspect a thing with his adamant behavior but his trembling fingers didn't lie to you.

You pass the arches of the room and immediately turn into a less busy corridor, away from the scrutiny of the other guests you feel his body weighing more and more into your arms so much you’re convinced he’s gonna fall on you at any moment.

“Come on.” you try to cheer him up. “We’re gonna find you an open window.”

“Yes, I…”

He doesn't finish his sentence, he takes support on a nearby wall and takes his head into his head like he is floored by an atrocious headache. You look at him in dreadful powerlessness, and run back full speed to the ballroom, looking for the only person that comes to your mind in such a situation.

“Eli! Help!”

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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chic-a-gigot · 6 months

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La Mode, 3 novembre 1838, Paris. Chapeaux de Lemonnier, 348 bis. St. Honoré. Cachemire de Mme. Elye Pessonneaux, 20 de la Michodière. Chale de satin garni de fourrure de Mallard, 4 Furg. Poissonnière. Mantille de taffetas de Mme. Lassalle, 54 Passage des Panoramas. Siege gothique de Mr. Maigrot, 22 Vivienne. Digital Collections of the Los Angeles Public Library

LEFT— She is wearing a gray dress with a black ruffled tippet. She is holding onto a colorful shawl with fringe. She is also wearing a blue capote with orange lining. RIGHT— She is wearing a green and pink dress under a black shawl. The shawl is lined with brown fur. She is also wearing a green and pink capote with green ribbons.

#La Mode #19th century #1830s #1838 #on this day #November 3 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #color #description #lapl #dress #shawl #Modèles de chez #Madame Elye Pessonneaux #Madame Lassalle

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lenfantdeverone · 5 months

Text

Say YES to the tuxedo!

Gordon stood awkwardly on top of the platform, slightly turning around in front of the full length mirror. His eyes were fixed on the little details of the light blue tuxedo he was trying on, carefully studying every inch of his body like he had never dared before. He couldn’t pin point exactly what was wrong with this particular suit, from the color choice to the weird way it fell flat on his unusually broad shoulders. Gordon held his breathe, a hand on his chest as he breathed in, analyzing how the fabric acted upon the sudden movement. For as ignorant as he was in terms of clothing, it was still pretty evident to him that the tuxedo didn’t fit him properly.

“It makes me look short.” Gordon concluded after a while of meticulously inspecting and judging, sighing heavily as he desperately turned around to seek the opinions of his brothers (who were his future groomsmen as well).

“You are.” Alan chuckled; his eyes still fixed on the wide shawl lapel imposing on his big brother’s chest. “You look like a discolored penguin.”

“Shut up, look who’s talking!” buried inside an ill-fitting tuxedo, Gordon appeared much less intimidating as usual as he hissed at his baby brother.

“Calm down you two, this is not the time and place.” Scott admonished his baby brothers, a hand distantly raised inquisitorially. He still had his eyes proudly glued unto his baby brother, awkwardly rocking an unusually formal garment which enhanced all the secret qualities that Gordon never really showed off. “It looks good to me… weird, but it looks good!” Scott admitted, but Gordon didn’t perceive the intended warmth in his eldest brother’s reaction. For once, he wanted to be more than just good.

“Maybe a satin lapel is a bit too much.” John appointed, taking pictured from various angles so he could zoom onto the details a little better. “Considering that we’re going for an… unusual color, maybe a less shiny fabric would be better.”

“The double-breasted tuxedo isn’t a good option either.” Virgil tilted his head a bit, his gentle gaze scanning his baby brother from head to toe. Gordon blindly trusted Virgil’s wise judgment, as his big flannel-lover sibling had without the shadow of a doubt the most knowledge of the family when it came to fashion. “You look constricted, as if you are trapped in a cage.”

“I’m going to look like an idiot, am I?” Gordon bit his lip, too defeated to even spare another glance at the mirror. It was the third tuxedo he had tried on, and he had felt terribly stupid in all of them. Maybe he was just meant to make everything look bad on his beaten body.

“No, you’re not.” Virgil firmly assured him. “We just need to find something that suits you. We should try more comfortable single-breast tuxedo next, maybe one with a grosgrain lapel instead of satin, what do you think?”

Gordon hesitated, not really brave enough to put together the picture that Virgil was trying to describe. He was just so tired and defeated. “Maybe I should also stick with black… this color is just… stupid.” The groom-to-be suggested, shrugging that familiar nauseating feeling off.

“But black is boooooring!” Alan rolled his eyes, sinking into the luxurious sofa where the groom’s entourage was assisting the appointment. The littlest Tracy wasn’t really a fan of formal attire, and he had made fun of all the previous options Gordon had tried on. For as innocent as his usually pungent comments were, though, he hadn’t really helped that uneasy feeling slowly devouring Gordon alive. “It’s a beach wedding, bro, I’d rather have you look like a lost merman than look depressed.”

“If I try on anymore of those ugly suits, I’ll be depressed for good.” Gordon dared one last, defeated look into the mirror, suppressing the urge to tear the suit apart and leave the store as naked and humiliated as he felt in that moment. “Virg, please help me out.” He pleaded, voice slightly cracking, exposing how vulnerable and helpless he actually felt in the situation.

“Gotcha.” Virgil simply smiled in return, a gentle hand firmly on his baby brother’s back as he gently guided him towards the changing room.

***

With tears slowly forming in his eyes, Gordon patiently waited for Virgil to bring him some new options to try on. He felt miserable, pathetic. The man who had survived the worst hydrofoil incident in the history of mankind was sitting on the floor of a fancy boutique changing room, crying his heart out and wearing only his boxers. Never in his life, not even at his lowest, had he imagined that he would end up in such a mediocre situation. It was moments like that that made him realize just how much he despised himself. He had managed to defeat all odds and re-learn how to walk when every single doctor who had visited him had deemed it impossible, yet he was unable to enjoy what was supposed to be a happy shopping day with his family. And for his upcoming wedding nonetheless! Gordon breathed in; hands buried in his hair.

Why couldn’t he just be normal about life and be happy for once? Why did it always had to end up like that, with him crying silently in a corner where no one could see? Why was he always messing things up?

“Here, try this one on.” Virgil rested a hand on baby brother’s shoulder, carefully bringing his baby brother’s back to reality. Gordon stared at him for a bit, eyes puffy and red, and his mouth agape craving for air. Virgil bit his lips, trying to keep his facial expression calm and gentle. He really couldn’t afford scaring his brother even further, especially when that doomed shopping day could still be saved. “I really think this is the one. I promise.”

Gordon gulped, his own saliva tasting sour and salty. He tended to trust Virgil’s promises, and he knew his big brother only wanted the best for him. He was tired. He felt like a nuisance. Yet he couldn’t let his family down, not when everyone had managed to take a day off just to be in that stupid boutique with him to pick the less ugly dress for him. Hesitantly, Gordon looked up to see yet another light blue tuxedo hanging before him.

“I said I wanted black.” Gordon’s voice was sore and raw.

“Black doesn’t suit your personality, bro.” Virgil smiled at him. “You’re a force of nature, you’re bubbly and dynamic, just like the ocean.” The elder gently ruffed his baby brother’s blond hair. “Could you try it on just for me? Please? You don’t have to show the others, if you really don’t like it I can go pick a black tux if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

The light blue tuxedo impended over him menacingly, yet Gordon solemnly considered the idea. He really didn’t want to upset Virgil, especially after his big brother had turned the store inside out to find that one tuxedo just for him. After thinking about it for a moment, Gordon finally decided to lift himself up, pull the curtain, and try the suit on.

“Penny would love to see you in blue.” Virgil commented distantly from the other side of the curtain, trying to be as supportive as he could after he had seen just how exhausted and defeated his brother actually was.

“You helped her choose her dress too, haven’t you?” Gordon asked, struggling to figure out the side adjusters on his pants.

“Mhmh.” Virgil proudly confirmed, smiling fondly. “Me and John did.”

“She… she’s going to look perfect, doesn’t she...?” just thinking about his bride-to-be was enough to make Gordon’s voice crack ever so slightly. He really loved her so much. “Of course, she always does…” she was perfection at its core. Penelope was the most amazing woman in the entire universe, she was so wonderfully flawless, she came straight out of a dream. She was calm, secure, confident, always so effortlessly gorgeous, and Gordon just adored her so much. “This is all a mistake, I… I just can’t, I’m ruining everything, Virg, I can’t-” he was pleading, begging, his hands trembling and struggling to even reach the single button on the tuxedo jacket.

Virgil didn’t hesitate a second to reach out for him, carefully capturing his baby brother in the warmest, tightest, most loving embrace. Gordon sobbed silently; shoulders hunched as he buried in face in his big brother’s sweater. Virgil gently rubbed the youngest’s back, shushing comforting words until the crying calmed down a bit.

“I know she’s the right woman for you, because she sees you the way we do, the way we all wish you could see yourself.” Virgil spoke softly, Gordon could distinctively hear how worried he was, yet Virgil was smiling ever so brightly. “We all love you so much, fish, and I really hope you will trust your future wife when she tells you that you are the perfect man for her.”

Gordon sighed heavily; his eyes fixed on the ground. How could he be the perfect man for Penny when he couldn’t even wear a tuxedo without looking like an idiot? Virgil carefully fixed his collar for him, and then he gently shook Gordon’s shoulders.

“Would you please look at you for a moment?” Virgil asked joyfully, and Gordon dutifully obeyed.

Turning back, Gordon held his gaze low for a moment, looking at his shoes. It took him a deep breathe, before he felt brave enough to look his reflection in the mirror. When he finally did, it felt like the world had stopped. The young man just stood there, frozen in place, mouth wide open as he stared at himself in disbelief. He could distantly hear Virgil chuckling right behind him, but Gordon’s mind was too overwhelmed with the sight in front of him to even bother.

“Single-breast, with a neat peaked lapel wonderfully shaping your swimmer shoulders, a textured grosgrain fabric on the collar to compliment the color choice, perfectly balanced with a double slit in the back of the jacket to elongate your figure.” Virgil spoke like a professional, illustrating each feature with precise and elegant gestures. “And it’s a standard size. Just picture how gorgeous it will be once it’s fitted to your measurements!”

Gordon couldn’t help the enthusiasm growing, despite not understanding a single word of what Virgil had just explained. He just knew that he felt… right. Good. No, more than good. He felt beautiful in a way that he had never experienced, in a way that he thought he could never allow himself to feel. Everything was perfect. The suit felt like an extension of his own being, showing off all the best qualities he could offer. He smiled through the dried tears, lips trembling, overwhelming happiness numbing his muscles.

“It’s… it’s perfect already.” Gordon managed to mumble, his eyes drifting from detail to detail. “I can’t believe it, it’s… it’s just…” he was at a loss of words, but for once he wasn’t bothered by it. He was way too happy, way too surprised to express it. He felt at peace, and he knew his brother could tell. “Thank you so much, Virg.”

“Shall we show it to the others?” Virgil asked, proudly waiting for his little sibling to make his big entrance.

Gordon didn’t hesitate, he was ready.

***

“Wooow…” Alan could only stare in shock as his big brother walked confidently across the boutique, his back straight and chin up, happily showing off his beautiful suit with a smile on his face. “Oh yeah, I like this one a lot!”

“Mh mh, that’s what I was thinking.” John nodded in approval, studying Gordon from head to toe with a genuinely satisfied look on his face. “It looks definitely looks great on you.”

“I know, right?” Virgil followed the groom-to-be, arms crossed and a proud, sly smirk on his face. “I managed to make our fish look like a prince, haven’t I, Scooter?”

Virgil patted the eldest Tracy brother’s back, trying to get a positive reaction from him too, knowing just how much it meant for Gordon to have everyone’s approval, especially Scott’s. As a result, Virgil only got a strained whine from his big brother in response. Everyone in the room turned worriedly to check on Scott, as Gordon froze in place, holding his breathe.

“What the heck is going on…” Scott whined, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sniffed loudly. “I’m literally crying.” The eldest attempted a smile, his deep dimples wet with happy tears. “You’re going to look fantastic on your day, baby brother, I’m so proud of you.”

Gordon had the widest, most sincere smile on his face as Scott hugged him tightly, loosening up after years of acting tougher and stronger than everyone else. Gordon was ecstatic, he felt gorgeous and loved. That’s what he was signing for, with this marriage. A beautiful life of love and happiness, surrounded by all the people who lifted him up and made him the best version of himself.

“So… are you saying yes to the tuxedo?” Virgil happily asked.

“I am saying yes to the tuxedo.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #lady penelope creighton ward #pen and ink #thunderbirds fanfiction

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