#c'mon Shadow-muse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

selenezq · 10 months ago

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🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

After a long wait, (thanks depression) my fic where Alastor rails you in a sundress is finally here.

Alastor x Reader

Reader is AFAB

CW: dub con, stalking, rough sex, explicit content, porn no plot, plot where, plot who

Sundress Summer

It was a hot, but not unpleasantly so day in hell.

The perfect time for wearing a sundress to the picnic Charlie had organized for the bonding exercise of the day. The first thing you noticed as you came to the end of the well-maintained stone walkway was the large red and white checkered tablecloths which covered two sizeable wooden picnic tables to your right. The pleasant breeze caused the edges of the fabric to flutter against the sides of the tables.

A massive spread of food covered both surface areas; it was more than they could all eat truly but it was clear Charlie had tried her best to create another memorable experience for her guests. You smiled from ear to ear with joy at the sight of all your friends together enjoying a day at the park. Husk and Angel Dust were seated on one of the benches lining the massive spread, the spider demon trying his best to get Husk to eat the grape he was attempting to feed him.

"C'mon, just let me feed ya one." Angel whined at the former overlord pushing the piece of fruit towards him.

"Cut that shit out, I can feed myself." Husk growled gruffly, as he swatted half-heartedly at Angel's hand before relenting. "Just one, and then leave it alone alright?"

Husk took a surveying glance around to ensure no one was watching the two of them. You quickly looked in the opposite direction to your left, faining interest in a passing butterfly so as not to intrude on their moment. You tried your best to hide a delighted smile.

With a resigned sigh, Husk let Angel gently feed him a lone grape. "Ah yeah, you like that in ya mouth daddy?" Angel says salaciously with a flirtatious grin.

"Fucking hell, you just had to go and make it weird didn't you," Husk scolded, before giving the tall demon a small shove. You did your best to hold in a laugh, ensuring not to make eye contact with the duo. Your ocular muscles searched for the rest of the group, coming to a stop when you spotted Charlie, excitedly pointing to something in the distance.

"Ohmygosh Vaggie look!!" She exclaimed excitedly, her words strung all together in exuberance. "I can't believe this Infernenta plant is flowering!" Charlie said before skipping joyfully over towards the flowering bush.

She skipped joyfully over towards the flowering bush, her girlfriend watching with a loving expression. Eyes which were usually fierce and full of rage softened before she followed after Charlie. “Yeah, that’s really cool babe.” She said, her voice beginning to fade as she walked further away from you.

You smiled fondly as you watched them go—the two of them were very sweet together. Niffty quickly took over your vision as she dashed around, pulling your attention away from the two lovebirds. She held her needle high in the air with her little hand; she was on the hunt, chasing a particularly large bug.

With a small shudder, you turned around and headed towards an opening in the woods, determined to explore. The thoughts in your busy mind dwelled on the members of your unorthodox group of friends until it occurred to you that had not yet seen Alastor. You wondered what he could be up to—though he rarely joined in on bonding activities.

You pondered deeply on how glad you were to have met them all as your feet took you down a slightly overgrown path, large weeds sprouting between the cracks on the deteriorated stone passage. Lost in your internal musing, you failed to notice a pair of glowing red eyes watching you from the distance; the hunter was tracking your every move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Radio Demon watched you from the shadows, hidden behind massive amounts of lush, green, foliage. It was a position most familiar to him from his time alive, hiding from plain sight while he waited for the perfect moment to approach his prey. He watched you with an ill-intended gaze, as the short patterned material of your sundress highlighted the beautiful curves of your body. An unfamiliar feeling of desire coursed through him as he feasted his eyes on the sight of you wandering, helplessly alone. You were completely unaware of the danger that lurked behind you—the perfect, irresistible prey.

Alastor was more than well-adjusted to the way the others at the hotel viewed his presence. He was infamous for the danger he posed, but you seemed content to naively ignore the threat he posed. Perhaps that was why he now found himself obsessed with you, needing to be constantly closer to you. No amount of effort could dissuade his need to be close to you; any amount of distance was simply unacceptable. The very lack of your presence had become most intolerable, to the point he found himself stalking you through the shadows, unable to look away from your gentle form.

At first, these feelings had angered him. Alastor had tried his best to make you fear him, unused to all of the new sensations you evoked in him. Popping up from the shadows, scaring you when you were alone in the dimmed hallways of the hotel. You had always laughed in response, slapping his chest playfully as you laughed at his joke and were it anyone he would skin them alive for the unwanted touch. He found it most irritating when you would pull away as if your hand should ever be anywhere but on him.

He started going out of his way to touch you—to make you uncomfortable. It was certainly not because he craved the feeling of your soft, warm, skin under his hand. It became a game he’d play, a way to see how far he could go, how long you would let his hand linger on you. Could he rouse a blush to those beautiful cheeks of yours? Somehow, he rather felt as though he might be losing the game you weren’t even aware you were playing.

Many nights he spent time thinking about how your soft, shiny, hair would feel when he pulled your head back, locks wound around his claws. What noises your sweet, little, lips might let slip, the sight of your kind eyes widening.

Would you let him ruin you if he tried?

The question consumed him as he brought himself back to the sight of his beautiful prey: you. His eyes focused on your radiant presence while your face lit up in delight. You had stumbled upon a beautiful abandoned structure. It appeared this was once a grand gazebo, but time had eroded the marble away. Faint cracks could be seen amongst the vines and foliage that almost concealed it completely from view.

He watched as you were unable to resist the urge to explore, pushing aside some of the greenery covering the entrance. You stepped inside, your graceful form illuminated by slivers of Heaven’s light, shining like sunlight through the thick canopy surrounding the structure.

You were almost completely obstructed from the view of anyone who might come along and it sent a shiver down his back—what a delightful thought, to always have you to himself.

He stalked forward slowly, careful to remain quiet so you would not ruin his little game too early. Hunting for sport was second nature to the demon; hiding amidst the shadows was something Alastor had become quite familiar with. The sight of you blissfully unaware of the potential danger you were in was almost too much to bare; he needed to start the next round of his manipulative little game lest you broke him before he got the chance to break you.

He materialized behind you, his form becoming more corporeal until he was a solid mass that you bumped into when you took a step back. You let out a most exquisite scream of fear as he startled you and a wide, malicious grin spread across his face. You turned quickly to face him, and he watched as your facial expression melted into relief. He was unsure how he felt about the sensation bubbling in his stomach—he brought you ease. Alastor lived to strike fear into the hearts of others, but he could make an exception—just this once.

"Oh, it's just you. That's such a relief." You said with a genuine smile.

"My, my... You are quite a sight for sore eyes. I could just eat you up." Alastor almost purred, his voice thick with his usual filter. Static popped in the air as he stepped closer to you; after such a long hunt, he was so close to getting what he wanted.

"You mean me?" You squeaked in disbelief, insecurity seeping through your voice.

"See here, exactly how fetching I find you, darling." Alastor told you, before grabbing your wrist.

He guided your soft palm to the hardness barely contained by his trousers, a true test to see how far he could push you. How much you would allow him to greedily take? Would this be the time he finally pushed you too far and you realized the peril you were in, being the object of his dark fascination?

He watched hungrily as your eyes widened in surprise, a pretty pink tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“This is all for me?” You asked, voice laced in awe and he wanted to consume you.

You were a curious creature, a difficult prey to understand. You never gave him the responses he was expecting, and yet always gave him a response he enjoyed. Rather than flee from the evident danger you found yourself in, you seemed quite pleased at his forward and lewd actions—what a foolish girl.

“Well of course my dear, who else would it be for?” Alastor teased, his voice full of amusement as he gestured to the empty overgrown gazebo. He brought a clawed hand down to cover your own, his large hand dwarfing your much smaller one as he pressed your hand closer to the tent in his pants. He let out a strangled groan at the much-needed contact, his usual composure falling apart every minute he spent in your presence. “The things you do to me, pet. This is all for you, because of you.”

He thrust his hips up into your touch, chasing your nimble fingers before he allowed himself to regain control of himself. He melted away into the shadows with a quick use of his powers and the warm tension of having him pressed against you was gone. It was amusing to him how evident you made it that you were desperate for his touch. A menacing laugh echoed around the gazebo as he slid up from the pool of shadows at your feet behind you, shoving you back into the siding of the shelter. You fell briefly, your sundress bunching around your hips exposing your cunt and the tiny piece of fabric that covered it from view.

You were an absolute vision, he noted. He was addicted to this version of you, vulnerable and needy for him and him alone. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Alastor brought his much larger hand to rest on your leg. His rough scarred skin pressed against your much softer skin, and you shivered against him beautifully. He wondered how long he could stand to do this to you, playing with you simply because he knew you’d let him—could he finally make you snap?

He teasingly brought his hand up your thigh, ghosting a finger along your clothed slit. He swallowed a hungry growl as a fresh round of wetness gushed into your panties at even the faintest touch. Every single stroke, every touch, was methodical and planned—he wanted to watch you come undone. He held himself with tension, holding himself back from ruining you completely.

You lifted your hips just enough, wordlessly signalling to him just how eager you were. It broke the hold he had over himself, the shred of control he kept in place to protect you. He shredded the flimsy undergarment, letting it drop by your feet as an unusable scrap of fabric. His fingers traced harsh, heavy circles around your swollen clit and it was pure bliss to watch as you threw your head back, releasing a muffled cry of bliss.

He plunged a dexterous finger into you without warning. A ragged, desperate moan escaped your lips and he watched as your face seemed to glow a bright scarlet in humiliation. He curled his finger inside of you, watching as your body shook for him but it wasn’t enough. He needed to drive his cock deep inside you, to feel your pussy clench around him while you moaned just like that. Despite the fact you should be ashamed, you rutted against him and it was enough to drive the best of men mad—and Alastor was not the best of men by a long shot.

He pulled his finger out of you, bringing it to his mouth before licking it clean. He swiftly undid his belt, before moving to pull the zipper on his pants down. The sound reverberated in the small hidden gazebo and he watched as you dripped in anticipation for him—he hadn’t hungered like this in centuries. He tugged his trousers down around his firm thighs and his massive cock sprung free. You let out a small whimper as you looked at his cock, a mixture of anticipation and fear shining in your eyes.

“I can assure you, darling, that it will fit. You’re going to take every single inch of me.” Alastor commanded; the incredulous look in your eyes only spurring him on.

He watched as your pussy clenched desperately with need around empty air, and his rock-hard cock glistened with precum. You were a marvel to behold.

“Alastor, please, don’t make me wait any longer. I—I need you.” You admitted with a plea, a blush dusting across your face from the sound of your own needy voice.

He pushed you further back against the siding of the forgotten structure you had found yourselves in, your back hit the siding with a soft thud. He lifted your leg up to wrap it around his waist as he slotted himself against your dripping pussy, rubbing the swollen head of his member between your folds, before he pushed to be inside of you.

He moved slowly, inch by inch until his considerable length was seated within you. Your warm walls gripped him tightly and he let out a shaky groan. An aggressive buzz, filled with fizzles and pops, filled the air as he made himself wait, letting you adjust to his large size. His eyes glowed as he gazed down at you fondly. “You’re such a good girl, taking all of me so well. You’re mine now.” He growled possessively, a hand coming up to grip your waist. “Say it, tell me who you belong to.”

There was a manic edge to his words, a need for you to understand that he owned you.

“You. I belong to you, Alastor!” You cried out in pleasure, without hesitation, and he picked up his pace in response. You were such a good girl; you knew exactly where you belonged. His hips slammed his cock in and out of you, chasing your delightful cries and screams.

The final strand of control within him snapped as he looked upon your debauched form. His antlers grew high and heavy above his head, his eyes becoming dials as he lost himself in his desire for you. His cock swelled within you, so large that he feared he might just break you. You released a soft whimper as he felt the head of his cock bumping into your cervix, but rather than push him away, you clawed at him to bring him closer—you were perfection.

“I never imagined I’d feel so complete being inside you like this, darling.” Alastor confessed, lost in the throes of ecstasy. He brought a hand up, lavishing his attention on your clit as he picked up the pace. He felt your body begin to shake and he knew it wouldn’t be long, he felt you coming undone with every stroke of his digits, every thrust of his colossal member was bringing you closer to the edge.

“Alastor, don’t stop! I’m getting close!” You pleaded desperately.

Immediately at your words, he stopped completely. He rested his fingers on your throbbing clit, his dick painfully still inside of your tight heat. You let out a frustrated sob, a lone tear welling up in your eyes and he leaned forward to lick it off your cheek. The sight of you, a desperate and quivering mess was enough to move even the staunchest of sadists.

“Please, please, please.” You begged, all sense of dignity lost. A tear fell down your cheek and he relished the moment of triumph in his twisted game. The sight of you crying and desperate beneath him brought him a degenerative sense of glee—he needed to make you cry more in the future. “Alastor, I’ve dreamed of this so often! I need to—please let—if I could just cum!”

“Hmm, I should like to think to think a bright young girl such as yourself could articulate that better, my dear.” He replied, a sadistic smile stretching across his face as he leered down at you.

“You’re being so cruel.” You cried out, voice dripping with desperation and it fed the hunger deep within him. He had no witty retort to return to your cries—he wanted you to beg. “Please, I’m begging you—I’ve touched myself thinking of you so many times. I never even dreamed you would return my desire. I can’t—I need you to move—to fuck me silly until I cum around your giant cock—please.”

You pleaded sweetly, your voice dripping with desperation and need for him that brought him immense joy and good girls got rewarded.

“Your pleas are music to my ears pet, I suppose they’ve earned you a reward. You’re so pretty when you beg.” He asserted before resuming his brutal pace. Beautiful euphoric tears fell down your cheeks, painting them so prettily, as he fucked into you. He felt you tighten around him, and in a direct constant to his rough pace, he brought his other hand up to gently cradle your face. He pressed his lips to yours, moaning as your soft lips parted to allow his tongue to explore your mouth. He laid claim to every inch of you he touched.

“Alastor!” You cried into his mouth, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You collapsed into him, allowing him to support your weight as he continued to fuck into your quivering body. Your cunt clenched deliciously around him as you rocked your hips backwards, chasing the friction he provided desperately. The sight of you so thoroughly debauched combined with the sensation of your walls gripping him tightly sent him over the edge. He shot thick ropes of cum inside of you as he finished with a loud groan, breaking away from the kiss.

The sound of your combined panting and heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent air, and he rested his head in the crook of your neck. “Ma biche, that was even better than I could have possibly imagined.” He praised, mumbling the words into your neck. You both lay intertwined for a while, neither wanting to break the silence and end the moment.

“We should find the others before they find us, but I’d love to do this again.” You said, and he could hear the desperate plea in your voice—good.

“Of course we will do this again, you belong to me now.” He replied, matter-of-factly.

He snapped his two fingers together, returning the two of you to your prior state of dress. The mess was gone as if it had never been there, though he loathed to return your undergarments to you. “Shall we, darling?”

You shot him a contented smile as you linked your arm with his, allowing him to lead you back to where the rest of the group was still enjoying the picnic.

Tag list @cosmiccandydreamer @alastorthirsty @ari-hatake15

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sturnioz · 8 months ago

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fratboy!matt defending your name immediately when some of the guys start talking about you inappropriately, not knowing you and matt have a thing going on

fratboy!matt !!!👹

"i'm, like, serious — and with a figure like that? ...bro."

is what matt hears over the table at breakfast, but he's not really paying much attention to the conversations his frat brothers are having. instead, he's focussed on his bowl of cereal, having developed a way to tune out the chatter that fills the loud, boisterous frat house.

seated at the end of the long, cluttered table, matt wears a pair of well-worn jeans and a oversized white shirt that hangs loosely on his face, a black cap sitting atop of his messy hair, casting a slight shadow over his eyes.

as he swirls his spoon around the bowl, searching for the last few stubborn flakes, he lifts it to his lips until he hears a mutter of your name cut through the noise, causing him to pause mid-motion.

his eyes flicker to the other end of the table, where his frat brothers huddle closely together, their gazes fixed intently on a phone screen. sluggish grins spread across their face as they flick through a series of photos on instagram, more lewd comments spilling from their mouths.

matt's tongue rolls across his teeth, his head tilting to the side slightly, "who are you talkin' about?"

one of his frat brothers glances up, the grin widening. "this fuckin' hot—"

"who are you talkin' about?" matt asks again, his voice deepening. the frat brother's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the playful atmosphere shifting at the intensity of matt's tone, and when he finally utters your name, the room seems to hold its breath.

matt's ringed fingers tighten around his spoon, knuckles white as a deep, frustrated huff escapes his nose, nodding slowly. nate, who has been quietly observing beside him, shakes his head with a chuckle as he mutters a quiet; fuckin' idiot, casting a sideways glance at the frat brother as he shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

the sudden shift in matt's mood does not go unnoticed, and the frat brother's expression morphs from amusement to alarm, his gaze darting between the others and matt.

matt's spoon clangs to the bowl as he lets it drop, leaning back into his seat, eyes glued to the frat brother across the table with a dark, piercing look. the air in the room grows thick with tension as matt's expression hardens, his jaw tightening.

"listen, uh..." matt begins, his voice low and controlled, but laced with a undeniable edge. "if ... if i hear any you talk about her like that again, i'll break your jaw... 'n i will do it."

his threat hangs heavy, and the huddle of frat brothers loses their smug expression, shifting uneasily in their seats. with tense shoulders, they glance at one another, confusion etched on their faces as matt's words sink in.

"matt..." one chuckles nervously, attempting to diffuse the situation and understand what's happening. "c'mon, man. what's the big de—"

"he's not playin'," nate muses as he cuts in, a grin spreading across his face as he leans his elbows on the table, a glimmer in his eyes. "y'know he means it."

#ᯓ꒰asks꒱#ᯓ꒰anon꒱#☆ fratboy!matt #꒰ fratboy!matt ꒱

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etherealily · 2 months ago

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🇷🇮🇻🇪🇷 // 🇦🇱🇪🇽🇪🇮 🇻🇷🇴🇳🇸🇰🇾

Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader.

My other Vronsky fics. If you have the time.

Warnings : None. Perhaps lack of accuracy. I'm not exactly a history buff.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : "...then what did you do?" (did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room?)

♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙

Adolescence, to some, is a wonderful time, and to others, is a nightmare. Usually, it is the former for the elderly and the latter for the actual adolescents themselves. However, when one is in the moment, when one is the adolescent in question? It is a freeing sort of nightmare.

And that is what you were experiencing, sitting there with your best mates, the ones you'd grown up with, known nearly since birth, on the dusk of your eighteenth birthday.

"And to the newly society-introduced angel!"

You waved your friends off, burying your face in your hand as they all raised their glasses. "Alright, alright."

"Oi, c'mon, none of that shyness, you're a woman, a Lady now!"

"I hate each and every one of you."

"We love you more!"

"Oh, oh, you simply must give a speech!"

You could've killed your best friend had you not been so utterly blissed. And of course, the entirety of your roguish little friend group of the highest of high society seconded Tatyana's outburst, cheering and shoving you up in front of the fireplace, the spot where the muted sounds from the actual social season party upstairs were best heard, and you were facing the rest of them as though you were on a pulpit.

"I am…"

They all laughed, their hands under their chins in mock expectation.

"…Not makin' a speech. Good night to all of you."

"Aw, c'mon, you're not even going to toast your first ever drink?", asked Aleksander - son of your tutor - who handed you a bottle of champagne before bowing, taking his seat again, Tatyana's legs draped over his on the divan as she took a drag of her pipe, raising a brow at you.

"Who says it's my first?", you mused, chuckling along with the rest of them as you chugged the champagne. Whoos and whoops and 'you little fucking rebel' sounded through the room, and Lev - Tatyana's brother - grinned before settling onto the seat in front of the piano. "This one's for you, Miss-Seasoned-Alcoholic."

His hands began their magic on the piano.

"And so, the last of us descends into the madness of formal society."

Alexei. His voice smooth as the transition of Lev's new symphony (something he'd been working on, something all of you in this room were sworn to secrecy over. It's the principle). "You must learn from our mistakes, you know? You have been, your whole life, but now, it is a whole different matter to knowing what a certain object is called in French."

You tipped your glass in his direction, and he nodded subtly, clearing his throat and gesturing with a flick of his wrist at Lev to continue. That was it. That was his toast. Never one for words, that Vronsky. He'd been quiet so far, and he was most likely going to be quiet henceforth. For the rest of the night. Just standing there, arms crossed, shadows half-marring his face from the alcove he was leaning towards but never actually in.

"Alexei's off to the military. Lev's off to study music under Tchaikovsky, sweet Lord, and Tatyana's getting married and you are off getting engaged off to imbeciles we haven't even had the pleasure of conversing with.", grumbled Aleksander, glaring at you. "Am I the only one here who likes home?"

"There's a whole world out there, Aleks. You're just incessantly stubborn on staying here.", shrugged Tatyana, blowing smoke into his face, before leaning her head back so her hair dangled off the armchair of the divan.

"Like either of you will ever get to explore even a splinter of it.", scoffed Aleksander, shifting to wave off her smoke. "Well, maybe you, your future husband's a politician, you might get to travel a bit. Our poor darling newly-introduced-angel's most likely already prepared to grow roots in his abnormally large manor."

You didn't like the three sympathetic looks being thrown your way. You were supposed to be having fun, goddamnit, not being pitied by the people you loved most in the world, it was essentially your party!

Thankfully, there was one stoic voice of reason that didn't look at you as though you were a kicked puppy. "Lev, do you always have to play such depressing things? And Aleks, with his depressing words. And Tatya, with her depressing face-- hey!", he laughed as much as was possible of Alexei Vronsky, deftly dodging the pillow she flung at him.

Thank god Alexei wasn't one for ruining a party with realism.

"Come on, play something jovial. Something Sir Tchaikovsky would dance to, not hang himself to."

"Dance?", scoffed Lev, flexing his knuckles momentarily before shrugging. "I suppose I should have some sort of expertise in multitudes of genres. Branch out, I suppose."

"Precisely."

His fingers danced on the keyboard just as fast as the champagne shot through your blood, and Tatyana sauntered up, setting your champagne bottle down. "Dance with me, Miss-Eighteen-Year-Old. Probably the last time we can all be free together."

You smiled, rolling your eyes and taking her hand as the music grew faster and cheerier. "All of you are saps. I thought the plan was get extremely inebriated, not emotionally incapacitated."

"It'd have worked had you been an alcohol-virgin, y'know?", declared Aleks, grunting as he moved to occupy the space Tatyana had been in moments ago, his head on the armrest. "When'd you even have a sip?"

"I was sixteen, and I snuck some of my father's sherry." you said, grimacing when you slimly missed Tatyana's foot.

"Wow, you are a rebel.", stated Aleks, making room for you to flop onto the divan opposite him, laying your head back and huffing as you looked at the ceiling, hand on your stomach as Tatyana continued dancing in her drunk haze, movements attempting to synchronize with the flames in the fireplace.

"I know."

Alexei's arms spread on either end of the back of the divan, and his head tilted in what you could only describe as allure. It was like he was fixated on one thing - what, you're not sure yet - and was entirely tuned into it.

Your eyes trailed magnetically from the ceiling to the eyes above you, a striking, almost painful, shattering blue tinged with flickering oranges like wildfire sunsets, reflecting the flames of the fireplace.

"You know, this is your last time seeing us for more than a full half-hour."

Raising a brow, you shook your head, curiously. "Why?"

"Well, the next time we will all see each other is Tatya's wedding, and the bride will not have time to come down for a drink with her mates, will she?"

"Now whose face is depressing?", retorted Tatyana, from in front of the fireplace. She was promptly ignored - not that she was sober enough to have noticed.

"This means, my sweet, that you owe each of us a dance." His voice is ships on a benevolent ocean. His smile is the horizon when the sun dapples the waters just so.

"I second that!", called Lev from the piano.

A strand of your hair got flicked, bouncing to and fro before your focus shifted to the hand being offered to you. "Dance with me."

Sighing magnanimously, you rose, allowing him to tug you into a seamless waltz, with one palm on your waist and the other holding your hand as though you might well break.

"Lev, faster.", he called offhandedly over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on your face, his brows furrowed in concern, while yours furrowed in concentration. You could not survive narrowly missing stepping on Alexei's leg, as well.

The music's pace quickened, and the loudness climbed up steadily, Lev palpably taking artistic liberty over artistic liberty, experimenting.

The sound of the piano keys being subjected to Lev's creative strokes of brilliance effectively muffling his voice, he drew his forehead closer, to fall just short of resting against yours. "Do you like him?"

"Like who?"

"Your possible groom-to-be."

"You know, actually, I thought he'd be stuffy, or unkind or plain, but he's quite pleasant."

"Standards are high among noble women these days, I see.", he snorted sarcastically, tugging you even closer, so that his temple was pressed against yours, your mouths next to each others ear. Secrets could pass between you smooth as a bullet, but for some reason, neither of you seemed to have anything to say.

"They say this is how the English dance. What do you think?"

"Doesn't hold a candle to the mazurka. But it's easier."

"Yes. Good. Glad you said that, because I am a disappointment to the mazurka's name." That was a lie, but he'd always been prone to lying to make sure you never felt inferior.

You grinned, and he effortlessly sped up to a Viennese waltz. "Keep up."

His eyes never left yours, that's the thing that kept you from fumbling around. They stayed trained on yours even as he twirled you around, and even as he dipped you.

Quickly, he took you on a small waltz towards where he'd left his champagne glass, and tipped it toward you, the rim touching your nose and causing him to smile.

"Did you not want to go to Paris? Italy? Ride an actual steam engine? Did you not have dreams?", he murmured, his eyes half-closed as the knuckles on the back of the hand holding the glass ghosted over your arm, running up and down them. The arm on your waist didn't dare flinch.

"I still do. You speak as though I'm a lost cause."

"He will not take up a role in the military or in politics, you know this. He is filthy rich, you know? Days will pass in his manor, perhaps the occasional ball such as this. You will live comfortably. Since when have you liked that?", he inquired, downing the entire glass in one go.

You let out a breathy laugh and he twirled you once more in impatience, pulling you back much tighter in line with his chest. "Since when?", he repeated.

"He is a kind man, and he is not a bore, either. Pickings are slim of the sort here, you know that."

"This is what he has portrayed to you."

"We are equal in station. If he mistreats me, I could still ruin him."

"Why do you even consider the possibility of being mistreated? You should not even have to think about that."

It's not protectiveness, not anymore, it's bitterness and it irked you. Who was he to be making such great points when you were inebriated, and could not retort?

"Alexei. We've all known one day, we'd have to get engaged to people we don't particularly know. Tatyana and me before you three, of course, but we've known."

"Yes, but--"

"And I don't know if this is nostalgic melancholy or something because you're leaving for the military, but you're dampening our spirits."

"I'm worried he isn't what he says he is. You're too free of a soul for a fortune-inheriting-man who knows nothing of work or life or joy."

His thumbs rubbed gentle arcs on your cheeks, his eyes closed as his voice quietened down under the music that you had to strain to hear him.

"This choice has been made by my family with due diligence, Alexei."

"Diligence. Not intelligence."

"Alexei."

"I apologise. I worry, you know I do."

You nodded, and he nodded back, handing you his empty glass to place on the table behind you. And when you turned back, his forehead grazed yours again. A tiny smirk painted his horizon-lips, and you felt his head tilt. "Did you really have your first drink at sixteen?"

"Not my fault you went and became eighteen and kept regaling the rest of us with how blissful you felt when drinking. It was cruel to taunt us so."

"I apologise for turning eighteen without your permission. I did not mean to ruffle any feathers with my insubordination."

"I am training you for the military, you see? You have learnt manners. Your superiors will thank me."

He grinned, dimples pronounced in the firelight. "I'm sure you will receive letters in the hundreds, profusely thanking you.", he mused, eyes flitting up to the ceiling in mock resignation before landing back on yours. "You will respond to my letters, yes?"

"Yes."

"You will send me some, of your own volition, as well?"

"Yes."

"That's a relief. I know none of these imbeciles will spare so much as a thought of me when I'm out there fighting for the good of Russia. It is always said that the youngest have the most kindness in them. You certainly do.", he muttered, gesturing his head at the other three.

Your hair is gently brought forward, onto your shoulder. "It's like a river. It flows.", he mumbled under his breath.

"My hair?"

He seemed mildly surprised you'd even heard him.

"Time.", he replied, a hint of reluctant fascination in his gaze as he continued setting your hair on your shoulder, attempting to place it just right. "You tune out the sounds and the currents when you've been by the river for too long, and before you know it, you don't recognize the things floating by you, anymore, and the things you first saw drifting are long gone. Time is the river."

"How often do you sit by rivers?"

"Every day. How about you?"

"Not much."

"Then you'd better pray he has one next to his estate. Because it's all you will be spending your life doing."

"That is a cruel thing to say."

Here's the thing about friendship and warnings. Your best friend will give you warning signs if they are going to move away and leave you to fend for yourself, perhaps months in advance. Your best friend will warn you about someone you trust that they have a bad feeling about. Best friends like Vronsky, however, cannot afford to warn you about when they are going to kiss you. It is just not done.

He was trepidation personified, hesitation embodied, eagerness demonstrated. One tiny kiss placed down onto your lips, and he was drawn in with no hope. One more and he was yours. And from the third, he didn't stop to think any longer. Think about how improper this was. How misleading. Not wrong. No, this was no more right than the sky being blue.

So why did you pull away, albeit gently? He'd never know.

He observed your eyes, carefully, as they darted over his, and did not even come anywhere close to his lips. Almost as though you were practicing the art of self-control with utmost dedication.

Hence, naturally, the palm on your waist nearly yanked you closer, your chests together as he kissed you again, his thumb on your cheek once more. He did not stop even when he realised this could ruin so much. He did not stop even when he realised this would make it harder for him to send or receive letters from you, and most importantly, he did not stop even after the music stopped and your friends had all turned from their inebriated, irritated or inspired states to stare at you. And fucking laugh.

Well, laugh momentarily. This was before they silently whooed and whooped to the same extent they had done when you'd first chugged the malicious champagne that had brought the two of you to this predicament, shaking their heads as they smugly raised their glasses in toast.

His hand ran up your back, to the nape of your neck, gently gripping it as he pulled away, his forehead on yours, as his thumb continued, albeit higher than the apple of your cheek, now pushing hair away from your eyes -- god, your eyes -- as he breathed, subconsciously attempting to synchronize with your breathless state.

"Come on."

"Alexei."

"Please. You cannot discount this."

"We are drunk. Discounting it is all we can do."

He almost got on his knees, and he would have, had the circumstances been different, and he were capable of the hand-eye coordination required to kneel. "Please."

You bit your lip, the same one he should've bitten two seconds ago, and then looked down. He let go.

"Alright. As you wish."

Licking your lips, you sighed, unsure of what to do. You wanted to reach out, hug him -- that's what you've always done to comfort him, well, anyone in this room. However, it could go horribly wrong. He could take it as patronization. He could shove you away. He could kiss you again.

"They will be searching for all of us upstairs."

You said it, and the others shifted awkwardly, mumbling agreements as they stood to fix their hair and groom the drunkenness out of their clothes. His eyes narrowed. "They will be searching for you. It is your party."

"No, I think all of us will be missed."

"I won't. Evidently."

Fuck. "Alexei--"

"Happy birthday."

You knew a dismissal when you heard one. "Are all of you coming?"

The rest of them rubbed their elbows, the back of their neck, busied themselves with their shoes. Right.

"Thank you all for coming today. I'll see you for thirty minutes at Tatya's wedding next, I suppose.", you muttered, with a pointed scoff and glare at Vronsky before you slammed the door behind you, the rest of the hallway seeming like a whole other world, an entire universe, even. An extremely dull one, but at least it was different than what you had just made it out of.

You gave an excuse of having gone downstairs to the cellar to look for more wine for the guests.

It's funny, you'd be surprised if you ever drank again.

Alexei had been wrong.

Tatya's wedding was not the next event you'd all interact in again.

No, it was Aleksander's cousin's first ever ball she was throwing as a married woman, and you had been cordially invited, didn't you know?

You actually hadn't, not until a day earlier, after you'd returned from your sudden new routine of daily sessions of sitting by streams and skipping pebbles over them. Not exactly a river, no, but it wasn't like you'd developed this novel interest due to Alexei's words. God, no. Sometimes, these things occur randomly, on their own, alright? Seasons change, people change.

You'd returned, and the invitation had been waiting at your desk. Your family had held onto it, as they had been doing with a lot of invitations to events since you'd been formally introduced. Proper ones, you see, were the kind you were to now attend. This had passed the test, evidently, as along with this on your desk, a new dress lay on your bed.

"I don't know… do I truly have that bridal glow to me? My fiancé says I do, but I can't be sure if it's just flattery."

"He's about to marry you in two months, Tatya, there's no reason for him to continue flattering you as though this is simply a courtship.", you assured, and she laughed, her head thrown back and her hand on your arm.

"Men will find a way. We could be married for decades, and I'm sure Ivan will understate our marriage and ask whether I find him agreeable or handsome."

"That will be due to memory loss and senility, not some masculine inclination to downplay the extent to which you love each other."

"Can't say the same about your situation, though, can we? He's still flattering you, I take it? As though your families are not in the closing stages of the deal to be engaged?"

"Yes, he is."

She offered you wine and you declined.

"Sobriety looks beautiful on you, but I like you drunk, you know. Like on the night of your birthday, I--"

"Tatya. I know what you're doing."

"Listen, it's not worth it, and you know it. It has been, what? A month, perhaps two? We're all about to be tugged into… god knows how many different directions. Even talking about your birthday has you defensive."

"Did you ask Aleksander to ask his cousin to-- god, Tatya, you--"

"You will thank me."

"If I see him, I am leaving."

"Well, if that's about me, that's disappointing to hear. If it's about Aleks, it's amusing."

Your eyes shot up, and Alexei stood there with his hands in his pockets, crisp white suit, even crisper grin, although his eyes did not reflect the charm his smile so effortlessly did.

You glared as Tatya rose, nodding at the two of you before disappearing into the crowd of socialites, much like you wanted to disappear into a huge gaping hole Alexei could not follow you into.

"I love your dress. Angelic."

Angelic. Did he have to do this? Was it some primal urge for him to meddle with your sanity?

"I like the hair. You've grown it out.", you remarked, offhandedly. Small talk wouldn't stop him, but it might throw him off.

"Oh, yes, yes, I have. Glad you like it. My mother grieved over it, and Tatya would obviously never give me her honest opinion, of course."

You nodded. Perhaps you'd been far too quick to refuse the wine.

"I would like to, uh, formally apologise. For the night of your birthday."

"Alexei--"

"Let me finish."

Fine. You could at least give him that. "Alright, but lower your voice."

He huffed softly, intensely battling an eye-roll before he looked back up to you. "I was rude, in the way I spoke to you before you left."

Spoke?

"Pardon?"

"The dismissal. It was… uncouth. Unkind. And I apologise for it."

The dismissal is what he thought you were annoyed about?

"The dismissal."

"I will apologise for nothing else."

"You are stubborn."

"And you are perfect. Do not engage in a battle of wits with me, my dear, you know I will win, you've known that since we were children."

The quiet that followed between the two of you weakly fought to stand its ground amidst the chattering and buzzing and music the rest of the party was engrossed in. "Have you given my offer any thought?"

Perhaps you were remembering it wrong. What offer?

"To not discount it.", he clarified, his tongue smoothly running over his teeth as one knee rested over another.

"You know I cannot do that. I am nearly - well, for all intents and purposes, I already am - engaged."

"Engagements fall through all the time."

"This one has no reason to. There is no power imbalance, no station inequity, no deep-seated mutual familial hatred, no--"

"No love.", he offered, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his intertwined fists.

"Love takes time."

"Yes. Eighteen years, to be exact."

"You have not known me eighteen years." He scoffed in response to that.

"I don't know how to explain it. It is…", he muttered, looking around as though answers would materialize from thin, tension-filled air, before his eyes landed on the two wine glasses before you. One full (the one you'd refused) and one empty (Tatya's).

He reached for them, holding them in his hands as though they were sacred. "One of us is each of these glasses, and when we're together, or at least since that night…", he mused, gently pouring from the full one into the empty one, his eyes on yours, until it filled halfway. "It's perfect. Equal. Right. Balanced. We balance each other out."

You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head, your mind frantically groping around its own depths for a response.

"Now, I don't know which one I am. If I am the giver, or the beneficiary, but what I do know is that at the end, it doesn't matter. Because it is us. You and me."

His gaze was so expectant, you could have cried.

"Station-wise, you know that it wouldn't work, even as an alliance deal, my family… power imbalances lead to marital issues."

"You are not going to sit there and reduce this to a logistical issue. You are not. I will not allow you to boil us down to such trivial nonsense as that."

"Alright, then how about the fact that my family would not let me marry an army officer, who is away from me for three quarters of the year, and who I could, at any time, get word is dead?"

"I am, also, a Count, and I could withdraw from the army and still offer you comfort. And besides, I would not even be on the front lines, and you know it. This argument is ridiculous.", he spat, jaw clenched.

"It is reality, Alexei, and it is quite embarrassing that I am two years your junior and I understand the world better than you."

"What is the real reason? It is not because you are worried you will be widowed in two days, or that you are worried we will get conflict in our married life because of our difference in our stations."

"Yes, it is."

"So, if not for those, you'd marry me?", he scoffed. "You would truly marry me then, if not for those reasons?"

"Yes!"

His jaw ticked, and he sucked on his teeth for a moment before leaning back, arm on the armrest as he absentmindedly picked at his lips. "You would?"

You hissed under your breath, leaning forward. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, Alexei, my refusal to acknowledge what happened on my birthday--"

"Your rejection, you mean."

"--Yes, my rejection - is not because of ill-will or because I hate you! I cannot hate you, it is physiologically, fundamentally impossible for me!"

"So is loving me, evidently. All you can feel, I suppose, is mild affection caused solely by nostalgia."

God, he was getting on your nerves. Running an exasperated hand through your hair, you leaned back, not before taking the half-filled glass - that apparently represented you - and bringing it to your lips.

He took his, eyes dancing around the room as he sipped. "Your indifference will be what kills me, not anything anyone fires at me from across enemy lines."

"What is it you want from me? I cannot acknowledge what happened as anything other than impropriety caused by inebriation. I cannot."

"Lies. You have your own reservations against marrying me, and I want to know them."

"No matter what I say, you will take it as a personal attack."

"Because you are personal to me!", he snapped, the glass pummeling to the floor, the grating and mortifyingly endless sound of shatters echoing through the room. Even the pianist stopped momentarily, before rolling his eyes and continuing once more.

The attendees, however, ogled.

Servants rushed to help clean it up, not allowing Alexei to get up and storm off and cause the tantrum he always did when he didn't get his way. "Sorry, my Lord, but shards in shoes are dangerous."

He ran his hand over his mouth to hold in his temper, before nodding offhandedly. "Finish quickly.", he mumbled, now gently biting at his knuckles, knee bouncing.

"Alexei."

Turning to you, he shook his head. "You are about to attempt at a placating platitude. Don't."

"When have I ever cared about placating you?"

He snorted, a hint of resentful acknowledgement in it. "Yes, I suppose you are painfully honest."

"Never mind. If you will only offer me retort after retort, then there is no need."

He huffed, rubbing the ridge of his brow. "Tell me."

"I will still write you."

"Oh, brilliant, that makes up for everything!", he exclaimed, sardonically. "You are a child. You don't listen, you argue, and you think gestures like that will magically solve this?"

"It's better than me not writing, isn't it? What would you rather have? Me not writing to you at all, or still writing?"

"Actually, you know what? Perhaps I don't want you writing to me. Ever think of that? Perhaps my devotion to you has waned with your stinging, stupidly-justified rejection. Perhaps I don't want anything to do with you anymore.", he gritted out through his pearly white stupid teeth.

"I don't do one thing you want, and I'm immediately an afterthought?", you scoffed, willing yourself not to yell and scream and plead as he stood up, smoothing down his suit.

"Wrong. You don't do the only thing I want - the only thing I've ever wanted from you, and yes, you do become an afterthought.", he replied, finger pointing at you as though you were under trial.

The sound of his heels sharply clicking away as he stormed out and got the dramatic tantrum he'd always loved throwing callously across a crowded room fading, you rubbed your forehead.

"Would you like a refill, my Lady?"

"No." You'd had quite enough of liquor for a while.

Tap.

Fuck!

You weren't particularly sure that you'd ever done anything to warrant avian malicious intent, but it was always a possibility. Perhaps a nocturnal pigeon or crow?

Stomping to the window, you threw it open. No wings. Nothing. Just a breeze on the night sky with a promise to meddle with your sanity.

You glared at the sky before shaking your head and moving to close the window, before a psst caught your attention.

Your eyes rolled right after they found Alexei standing down there, five pebbles in his left palm, one in between his fingers on the right, ready to strike. "Down. Now."

"No."

"You know I'm not above launching these all night. Your stream has a bank with these innumerable."

"No."

"You know I'm not above throwing these at your face."

"You wouldn't dare." But he would, and you knew it. Ask seven-year-old you, being terrorized by a nine-year-old-Alexei by a worm on a stick that he thrust upon your face.

"Down, now."

You glared at him, and he flinched, making as though he were about to propel one into your face, and you shut the window instinctively, running downstairs, before you slowed, creeping around sleeping maidservants' rooms, gently prying open the back doorway.

He was still laughing at your fright as he watched you gingerly shut the door behind you to maintain as much silence as possible. "Did you actually think I would do it?"

"After your little wine-stunt, I don't know what to think. Why are you even here?"

"You forgot what tonight is?"

"What is it?"

"My last night before I leave for the military. I told you -- all of you -- the morning of your birthday, when I got the information!"

"The night of my birthday overshadowed the morning, I'm afraid.", you scoffed. "Shouldn't you be getting patted on the back by your superiors? Brandy and cigars?", you mocked, crossing your arms as he leaned back against a tree.

"I should. Instead, I'm here."

"How unfortunate."

"Will you just…", he trailed off, before groaning, running his hands over his face as though he were the one being inconvenienced right now. "Just accept that it meant something."

"The kiss?"

"Yes, the kiss."

"Of course it meant something, imbecile, that was never up for debate. A kiss is no small thing."

"Good. There is something of substance in there, then.", he muttered, flicking at your forehead.

You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him, a gesture he mirrored. "You really are still a child."

"You are not grown up either, Alexei, you just act as though you are. You don't know what you're doing half the time, either."

"Listen, 'adult' is not an actual state of being that one can achieve, alright? Everyone makes it up as they go along.", he mumbled, rolling one of the pebbles in his palm over on its side.

"You still don't want me to write?", you asked, quietly.

"Of course I bloody want you to write, what's wrong with you? I don't want you engaged to someone who you don't know, but I suppose my opinion on it is irrelevant."

"We would not be good husband and wife, anyway."

He chuckled loudly at that, bitterly, before shaking his head and stalking his way towards the stream, wordlessly expecting you to follow. "Oh, you have to elaborate on that one. Oh, and without using the words 'bicker', 'fight', 'stubborn' or 'imbecile'."

"You're an idiot.", you retorted.

He snorted, shaking his head as he continued the short trek. "I love you.", he replied, laughing under his breath.

The crunches of leaves underfoot stilled, and you froze, like the stream would in a couple months' time. "What?", he questioned, grunting softly as he lowered himself on the bank, head swiveling over to you.

You shook your head, shrugging. "Nothing."

"You already know this. Why is it surprising to hear it?", he muttered, offering a hand to help you down next to him.

"It isn't."

"No? Then what's that face?", he asked, tapping gently on your nose. "You look stunned. Scandalized, one might say."

The stream carried your words away.

"Will I be invited to the engagement party?"

"Do you want to be? Because you only get one. Either engagement party or wedding."

"If I come to the engagement party, I could make sure there is no wedding. I am mildly evil like that, as you well know."

"What would you do?"

"Kill him or humiliate him. I don't know, haven't decided. Or, I'd convince you to run away with me. But then again, if you're not willing now, I'm sure you won't be willing then, with all the pressure.", he sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, an absentminded kiss placed on your temple.

"I thought pressure makes people do stupid, impulsive things."

"Precisely. You will actually go ahead with the 'stupid, impulsive' engagement."

"How would you humiliate him? Because even I don't know enough about him t--"

"Do you not love me? Is that it? Is that why you reject me so harshly and hastily? You do not love me as I love you? I am still your childhood friend? A brother, of sorts?"

"Alexei, I already explained--"

He scoffed, gripping your jaw before he pulled you so your lips met his once again - a most surprising reunion. He turned completely to you, now, his hands moving your hair back before they abruptly decided they'd rather hold it, instead. "Explain this then. Hm? You kiss back, like you cannot stop yourself, like this is what you were made for. And it is, you know?", he murmured against your lips momentarily before he continued once more.

He still had the ability to read you like the fairytales that the five of you had grown up reenacting. It irked you to no end.

"Alexei-"

"I swear, you say my name once more, I will… I will… marry you right now.", he grumbled, rambled, rather, pulling you closer. "The stream and the stars heard me say it, and they hear everything. If you say my name like that one more time, I will honest to God marry you, somehow."

You were silent for a while. Then. "Alexei."

His horizon-smile blossomed against your lips.

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faithinus · 4 months ago

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Forbidden Fruit

Summary: Mat and his friends gather for an annual poker game. A shocking revelation about his sister throws him off balance.

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x OC Barzal!Sister featuring Mat Barzal himself :)

Word Count: 800

The dim overhead lighting cast long, skeletal shadows across the faces of the men gathered around the poker table. Empty beer bottles and half-eaten plates of chips littered the coffee table, testament to the relaxed atmosphere of their annual holiday game. Liam, Mat's childhood friend and host, dealt the cards with a practiced flourish, a grin spreading across his face.

"So, Mark," Liam drawled, his voice low and gravelly, "spill the beans. Anything juicy happening in the big leagues lately?" Liam, a former hockey player whose career had fizzled after college, was notorious for his relentless pursuit of insider information. He slapped a hand on Mat’s shoulder. "Mat here is giving me nothing. He's been cooped up in the gym ever since he got back to Vancouver.”

Mark, a burly man with a thick neck and a penchant for strong opinions, was the newest addition to their inner circle. Despite having faced him on the ice, Mat still felt a degree of unfamiliar tension with him. Mark took a long sip from his beer. "Not much. Just the usual trade rumors, injuries, the standard fare."

Liam leaned forward conspiratorially. "Oh, there's more than that. Heard you ran into our boy Quinn the other night."

Mat raised an eyebrow. "Quinn?"

"The Captain himself," Liam confirmed, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I heard he's found himself a new muse, but he's being oddly secretive about it, even with his teammates. My bet is a reporter. That's why he's so tight-lipped."

Mat always respected Quinn, both on and off the ice. He was a quiet leader with a steely resolve and skating that was nothing short of poetry in motion. But he didn't care much for the details of any player's romantic life.

Mark, shuffling his cards absentmindedly, mumbled, "Nah, doesn't seem like the type. I saw him out at Blue Water Cafe the other night with the girl. My sister recognized her..."

Another one of Mat's old friends, Ben, kicked Mark under the table.

"What the hell was that for?"

Ben, reaching out for his cards and pulling them to his chest, muttered, "Just get back to the game."

Mark's eyes snapped to Mat's face. "Oh shit. I forgot."

Ben glared at him. "Just stop talking. Please."

Mat, noticing the tense conversation, finally looked up from his cards. "Okay, now I'm interested."

The room fell silent. Mat's eyes darted around the table to each of the men, searching for a clue.

"What do you know that I don't?" he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. Liam held his hands up in defense. "I have no idea. I swear."

“Ben? C'mon. Spit it out." Mat's eyes pleaded with his childhood teammate, burning into him. Ben sighed under the weight of his stare.

"It's Alayna." He said under his breath, averting his gaze.

"Excuse me?" Mat shook his head in disbelief at the name that came out of his mouth.

Liam, eyes wide with surprise, stammered, "The girl is Alayna? As in, Mat's sister?"

Mat's face paled. Alayna? Dating Quinn? The Captain of the Vancouver Canucks?

A wave of icy dread washed over him. All those "I'm never dating a hockey player" speeches echoed in his mind, a bitter irony. And her last relationship… that had been a disaster. It took her months to recover. He had just started to see that spark in her again. Now this? Mat imagined Alayna, her laughter, her gentle spirit, potentially entangled with the unforgiving, predatory world of professional hockey. Surely no captain would have the energy and emotional bandwidth to put his sister’s needs above their own. Victory often came at a personal cost.

He could feel Liam's gaze on him, a mixture of amusement and sympathy in its depths. He managed a weak smile, his voice trembling slightly. "Right. Alayna. Of course."

Mat pushed his chair back from the table, his mind reeling. This couldn't be happening.

His eyes flew around the table once again. "You guys already knew? Alayna has my friends covering for her? Like some kind of secret operation?" Mat said, incredulous.

Ben leaned his head back on the chair in defeat and wiped a hand across his face. "If it makes you feel any better, apparently they're inseparable. Head over heels, the whole nine yards."

Mat groaned. He wanted to sink into the floor and vanish. “My sister, though? Out of anyone in Vancouver?”

The rest of the group fiddled with their cards absently. The silence grew suffocating. Mat sighed, the weight of the news settling heavy on his chest. "He better not be fucking around."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up. Those Canucks are notoriously..." Ben swatted Mark on the head. "Not. helping."

Mat took a long pull from his drink, wishing he had something stronger to singe his throat, something to dull the shock. He had a feeling this was going to be a very rocky holiday season.

#faithinus writing #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x barzal!reader #quinn hughes angst #quinn x alayna #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #hockey rpf #mat barzal

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rockethorse · 1 year ago

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Stocking Stuffer 1/5: A Bajillion Random Painting Recolours

Happy Holidays to all! While I'm proud that last year I finally managed to achieve a longtime goal of sharing a full TS2 Advent Calendar, I'm simply not gonna be able to pull it off this year. Nonetheless, the holidlay spirit has encouraged me to finish up and share a couple of things before the end of the year! I'll be sharing five little gifts over the next few arbitrary days. First up: A BUNCH of Maxis painting recolours.

One recolour each of A/B/C Stroke (yes, I still enjoy playing with these as three separate paintings) using vintage matchbook covers designed by Saul Bass for The Ohio Match Company.

Two recolours +frames for Abstrutionism; "Poppy Cake" by Adolf Fényes (1910), and then this edit of Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth (1948) to include Bella Goth (the original Tumblr poster has deactivated).

A recolour of Anonymous Masterpiece with these two digital paintings by user chestnutroan featuring their farmer Sim and his two alien daughters.

One recolour of the Arghist Soldier with "Friday Nights" by Deborah DeWit (2006), perfect for your novel-enthusiast Sims' reading nook.

One recolour of City Skyline with a fruit & veg painting by Twitter user snail_soup (you can buy a real print of this too if you like it!)

One recolour of the Fourth Element wall scroll with "From Stardust to Stardust - Raccoon" by user ArtOfMienda.

Four Vegetables recoloured with four deliciously juicy tomato paintings by artist Leah Gardner.

Geometry 101 recoloured with a beautiful palette knife painting by Lynn Boggess.

Two recolours of Grilled Cheese (you all know what Grilled Cheese looks like, c'mon); one vintage ad for Hollywood Diet bread which I cleaned/redrew to remove text/graphics, and then "Cloud Rows" by Ivan Eyre (2004).

In The Beginning (+frame) recoloured with "Little Thief" by Courtney / Trash Kitty Art (also available as an affordable IRL print).

Kitten vs. Yarn (+frame) recoloured with this goache painting by user ieafy.

"Until Tonight" by Mark Grantham (2019) slapped on Lady On Red.

Two recolours of Living Room; "Midwestern Summer Fun" by user ink-the-artist (you may wanna zoom in for a surprise), then "Girl On A Swing" (2000) by Andrew Macara.

One recolour of Marketing Print with the Beatles as drawn by other Beatles. I don't remember who drew who because I'm actually not much of a Beatles fan but I thought these sketches were really darling.

In Memory of Johnny Gnome (+frame) recoloured with a piece by Emma Roulette.

A recolour of My First Holiday with art from Twitter user heikala_art.

On Pointed Toes (+frame) recoloured with this digital painting by Twitter user catwheezie.

I fell in love with this Guinness ad so I tweaked it from the photo to fit on the Route 66 poster, then made an accompanying Simlish option.

A single Scruffles recolour (+frame) with this adorable cow illustration by Twitter user poodlewool.

Four recolours of the Sim Noir pop art print; three pieces by Al Parker I found through this Tweet (with some English removed) and then an edit of the original painting to look passingly familiar...

Two recolours (+frames) of Snoozing Enemies; "The Cat on the Pillow" by Adolf von Becker, and "Sleeping Sasha" by Lena Rivo.

Stiller Life (+frame) recoloured with this oil painting of McDonalds by artist Noah Verrier.

Two recolours (+frames) of Stumped Hound; "Shadow" by Tianyi Zhou and "cat falling off table" by user anasauruss.

The Muse recoloured with this Juxtapoz magazine cover by artist Josh Courlas.

And lastly, three recolours of Untitled (the Bella Goth pop art painting) with works by Hiroshi Nagai.

Download All Paintings @ SFS

#the sims 2 #s2cc #sims 2 cc #Stocking Stuffers

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suugarbabe · 2 years ago

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omg so ur mattheo one about drawing is so cute and got me thinking about how next time they met up by the lake what if he went to show them a drawing and it was of them!!!!!!! like he drew y/n and wanted to show them because they had a bad day or something!! i love ur writing and it just made me think of that and blush teehee

we love little secret creative and soft Mattheo 🖤 read part 1 here

You figured you’d find him out there, especially since he had gotten in a screaming match with Draco a few hours prior. You didn’t even bother checking his other ‘typical’ spots like the astronomy tower or the back of the courtyard, instead you went straight to the Black Lake.

Mattheo was hunched over, his shoes and socks sitting next to him and his trousers rolled up to his knees so his feet could hang over the edge of the dock into the lake. He didn’t move or look up when you started walking on the dock, you assumed he was just too enthralled in whatever it was that he was drawing.

You slipped off your shoes and socks, sinking down to your bum beside him and dipping your feet in as well. You sat in silence next to him for a moment before trying to peer over his shoulder to see what he was working on.

He turned away from you, causing a slight scoff to leave your lips, "Matty, c'mon. You always let me see your drawings." You were pouting and it was evident in your voice.

He peers over his shoulder slightly, a smirk gracing his lips, "I'm almost done, then you can look. But be gentle, don't judge too harshly okay?"

You ran your nails against his back lightly in response. A few moments later he turned towards you, sketch pad facing down towards his lap. "No laughing," Mattheo held out his fist, his pinky and thumb sticking out.

"No laughing," you hooked your pinky finger to his. You each took a turn pressing your thumbs to your lips before pressing your thumbs together, silently symbolizing and stamping the promise.

Mattheo took a deep breath, grasping his sketch pad on either side before slowly lifting it up. You couldn't contain the gasp that left your lips at the image he was able to portray on paper.

Instead of his usual lake drawings, Mattheo had found a different muse for this creation; that muse being you. It wasn't a magical drawing in the traditional sense, nothing was moving around, but it was magical to you.

It wasn't a portrait of you dead on, more so like a candid picture of you looking down and smiling. You don't know how he did it, but his shading and shadow work made it look like it was an actual photograph.

"Mattheo..." your voice was barely a whisper. Mattheo, who was holding the sketch pad directly in front of his face, peered around the side, "It's terrible isn't? I'm sorry, I really did try I swear but then - "

"It's gorgeous," you cut him off, taking the drawing in your hands, "Can I have it?" You looked up at him from the drawing with hopeful eyes, you didn't want to overstep, but you also wanted to display it for everyone to see how talented he really was.

Mattheo nodded, giddy smile now displayed on his face, "Y-yeah, of course, I mean, it's you for Merlin's sake."

You know you two were just friends, but you couldn't help yourself, leaning over and grabbing his face, kissing his cheek gently and sweetly. Mattheo's face was on fire, burning a deep shade of red, obviously not expecting the display of affection. He made a mental note to draw more things that would get that reaction out of you soon.

#mattheo riddle drabble #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #golden era #nonny bo bonny

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gizurrr · 8 months ago

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headcanon that Ford was a ceremonial magician (à la Aleister Crowley, or more accurately in the scientist case, Jack Parsons) during his time working with Bill Cipher cuz like,, c'mon

bro was literally doing yogic exercises (which ceremonial magicians appropriated from tantric practitioners in India and Tibet in the late 19th/early 20th century but that's a tangent for another day)

meanwhile, Fiddleford, being from hillbilly roots and thus probably from a devoutly conservative Christian background*, was def unnerved by how they approached their research cuz after all, chanting interdimensional mantras and then yammering about ingesting ground up baby bones or whatever effed up things while having weird eyes is def a sign of demon possession. and Ford seemed okay with it??? and actually enjoyed it, setting up shrines to this "muse"????

but "oh, Fiddleford is a stupid superstitious redneck bum who's scared of his own shadow" Ford would conclude under the influence of Bill

tl;dr: i love the correlation between scientists and the occult/esotericism in history and i think Ford def fits in that correlation

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creatorbiaze · 5 months ago

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An Unexpected First Meeting

Aka how Pandora & Videns met

Archae-drakes. Pandora had accidentally stumbled upon the den when she ended up in Abyss.

A cliff. Trapped by the steep drop behind her, she was cornered.

"Do you trust me?"

Who said that? Their face was obscured, but they'd been grinning.

"..Y-yes?"

"Bad idea. In these Realms, trust no one, except maybe yourself."

Falling. She'd been falling. Did the mysterious one push her?

"Heyyy. Wake up. Aren't you a Sorcerer? How'd a Path Way knock you out? Either you're incredibly weak, or you'd used a lot of your power... or both," A mysterious voice muses, something cold prodding Pandora's cheek a few times in rapid succession between each sentence. She can feel something soft under her, and the air was near freezing... When did she fall asleep?

Pandora slowly opens her eyes, squinting at the entity before her. They seemed young, probably in their late teens at most. Their face was close to Pandora's, hand raised to poke her cheek again, and their ice blue eyes narrowed in concentration. Their pupils were almost cat-like, longer and a bit sharper than a human's eyes, and their long hair was dark brown, their black bangs swept to the right of their childish rounded face, and two thick blue-grey stripes that tapered to pointed tips ran from their jaw an inch from the corners of their mouth to about halfway up their face. Two dark grey-blue horns sat probably halfway back on the top of their head, pointing straight back. They also had wings, the near-black feathers speckled with weirdly sparkly points, almost like the stars.

When they notice Pandora awakening, their face lights up and they lean back, standing up straight. They seem to be a young Draconic, clothed in a long dark grey coat, blue shirt, and jeans, as well as black boots, but something seemed... oddly off about them.

"Hi! You're alive, wonderful! Knew I didn't kill ya, your mind was too active," The entity grins, their long dark blue tail swishing behind them, the jagged blade-like end glinting in the light. Was.. one of their tail blades missing..?

"C'mon, Pandora!" The entity didn't give Pandora much time to think, grabbing her cloak and hoisting her up, walking towards the entrance of the small cave they'd been in, lit by a suprisingly bright lantern sat on a small table. It seems Pandora had been laying in a pile of cushions.

Pandora lets herself get dragged, too disoriented to try and fight the weird entity, or even question why they knew her name. She looks around the forest outside the cave, the silver willow-like trees reaching high up, lavender leaves and various vines hanging down. The branches obscured the sky, but Pandora could tell it was night time. Small animals rustle in the underbrush, ferns and long grasses brushing Pandora's calves. It was almost hard to walk through, but the Draconic didn't seem to have any problem.

"Saw you having Archae-drake trouble in Abyss, so I decided to step in and help! Can't tell if it's the Shadow-walking that knocked you out or the Pathway, but either way you were out cold when we got here. Humans are resilient though, so I wasn't too worried," The entity explains cheerfully, looking over their shoulder at the Sorcerer.

"Oh... Thanks, I guess... Uhm... Where are you taking me?" Pandora decides to ask, hands clasped in front of her chest. Something about the entity was making her anxious, but she couldn't tell what. Her mind was too sluggish to properly process anything still, so she barely understood what they were saying. She notices a bright blue star-like flower, and reaches out to gently touch the soft and cold petals.

"Home!" The entity chirps, looking forward again, "You'll be fine left alone, but Star Seer would probably bug me if I left you in the woods. Oh well! Oh, by the way, if you see a flower with blue pointed petals, about yay big, don't touch it. It's deadly," The entity casually raises their hand, forefinger and thumb about two inches apart. Pandora yelps, pulling her hand away from the flower as if she was burned.

The entity laughs, still not even looking back at Pandora, "Kidding, kidding. You'll be fine. That one, though, will kill you quickly," they chuckle, pointing up at a dark purple flower drooping down from a thin vine wound around one of the hanging branches. Pandora nods in understanding, ducking to stay clear of the flower. It'd probably be best to just not touch anything... though, how did they know what flower she'd touched..?

She doesn't get the chance to question the entity, though, as they keep talking, rambling about something that Pandora couldn't keep up with. It seemed like some kind of science, though...

Eventually they reached the edge of the forest, opening to a large grassy area with a cliff to the left, a large white palace ahead, and a wide open starry sky above them.

"Ta-da! We're here!" The entity grins, arms spread wide open as they turn around to face Pandora. Did they ever stop smiling..? Though, the palace seemed almost familiar...

"Th-thanks... though... who are you, and... where is this?" Pandora asks, frowning slightly. She kept her hands clasped, folded near her chest. The cold was starting to get to her too, making her shiver slightly.

"Oh, of course!" The entity snaps their fingers, giggling as she bows dramatically, "I'm Videns, Salhan Goddess of Chaos, and secondary goddess of the Mindscape! And this is the Bright Palace, home of the Fallen Pantheon!"

Pandora inhales sharply, taking a step back as her eyes go wide. No.. what? This... child.. was part of one of the most dangerous groups in the Realms, ruled by a tyrant that some even consider near Sidera's own power? Who was this unsettling child, really?

#mystic writes #Videns Mortem #ocs #oc things #Pandora siqrae

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daftdrac · 10 months ago

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pspspspsps

the start of the from the fog holiday series but Robert gets sick (frostbite or anything else really), and Sean and Shadow have to nurse him back to health

Shadow grunted with effort as he pushed a branch out of his face, carefully stepping over another berry bush- and getting his pants leg snagged anyways. When he felt the thorns tug in the fabric, he groaned, dropping his sword as he leaned down and carefully untangled himself. Picking his sword back up, he glances around the clearing Sean, Robert and him had built in. He stepped up to their shabby cabin, ducking his head down to enter through the doorway. Sean was inside, tending to a furnace- from what Shadow could see, it was some of the little mutton they'd managed to collect thus far.

"Hey," he greeted passingly, walking over to the bed they all shared- technically three separate beds, but pushed together. The group wasn't new to these scenarios, they knew it would be safer to sleep in a pile than each separately. For heat conservation, they all reminded themselves consistently. Sean gave an acknowledging nod, but didn't look up, and Shadow set his sword down on the hard ground, the dirt floors housing a top layer of permafrost from the freezing climate.

"Where's Robert at?" Shadow mused, turning to face Sean as he stretched his arms up, grunting under his breath as his muscles relaxed.

"Uhh, I think he said he was gonna go looking for something- animals, or resources- maybe you, I wasn't paying much attention." Shadow raised an eyebrow at Sean, who still had his back turned to the taller man.

"Uh, alright then, I'll go wait outside," he mumbled. He took large strides towards the door frame, once again ducking to fit through. He glanced around the clearing once again, eyes landing on the small chicken pen and berry farm they'd managed to get up and running.

We're lucky these berries are so resistant to the cold, he thought, they've been our primary food source so far. He glanced at the snow on the ground, and a smile creeped up his face. He crouched down, adjusting his hood as it came down in front of his eye, and stuck his hands into the snow, starting to ball it up and pack it together. He made a few snowballs, smirking as he leaned back against the fence, holding the cold, half-frozen objects in his lap as he waited.

It didn't take long for Robert to return, coming out of the forest from generally the same area Shadow had. His head snapped up as something hit the tree beside him, seeing Shadow and ducking a second too late, taking a snowball to the face. Shadow dropped his last snowball in surprise, sucking air through his teeth sympathetically

"Ooh- shit, sorry man," he apologized, stepping forward. Robert wiped the snow off his face with his sleeves, his eyes squinted. His nose was pink, and as Shadow looked more closely at him, so were his ears- and his knuckles and fingers.

"It's- it's fine, dude, I'm good-," Robert grumbled, stepping through the brush towards the berry farm. "Do you have any food-? I- ran out halfway back, almost got ambushed by something," Shadows brow furrowed, his level of concern for Robert immediately rising. He glanced down at Robert's hands, seeing they were shaking.

"Uh- yeah, yeah, give me a second," He sputtered, digging in one of his bags, pulling out some berries and handing them to Rob. "Sean's cooking the mutton we got inside, c'mon," Shadow urged, placing a sturdy hand on Roberts back to lead him.

The two went inside, and Sean, hearing two sets of footsteps, glanced up. He immediately locked on to Roberts rosy features, and handed him some of the freshly cooked meat. "Rob, come sit down," he ordered, and he didn't even hesitate before grabbing Robert's arm and pulling him towards their beds.

Shadow frowned, following and sitting by his side. "You cold? What's wrong?" He asked, both him and Sean having already clocked something was up.

"I- I don't know, It doesn't matter probably, just- really.. *cold*," he shuddered, leaning into Shadows' side, subconsciously seeking warmth. Sean hesitated, but pulled his mask off.

Shadow glanced up at Sean's face with slight surprise, but ultimately returned his focus to Robert as Sean leaned forward, pressing the back of his hand to Rob's forehead.

"..are you- sure you're cold, Rob?" Sean asked, eyes narrowed. Shadows surprised, did the same as Sean, wincing when he felt the fever Robert was nursing.

"*Oh*, you-.. Finish eating, then lay down." He said, his tone stern, leaving little room for argument, though it wasn't like Rob had the energy to argue anyways.

~...

I'm bored. I love this sm but I've been writing for the past hour and I still have like 2 hrs almost left so I'll come back to this if I get bored and finish this drabble but like. 😭

Hope you enjoy Astro 🙏 I actually love this prompt/ship

#daft literature #scenario smp #forgelabs #forge labs #shadowmech #okrobert #whump #(?)#idk.#sickfic #ig.#quickmechlabs

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5mind · 5 months ago

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Shadow's gonna write 'ass' and 'hole' on each other their butt cheeks. (For Antares. I'm sorry buddy)

Grab a marker and write something on my muse! (Anywhere on their body)

"What-"

He keeps turning around, spinning like a dog chasing its tail, to read what the hell just got written on his ass.

"C'mon man, I'm not even an asshole! I'm a shithead, get it right."

#baringtccth #[ ic : antares ]

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uppertwo · 6 months ago

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♫ also for everyones least favorite father daughter duo

send me ♫ for 3-5 songs i associate with our muses / accepting!

two birds / regina spektor.

two birds on a wire (oh-oh-oh) one says, "c'mon" and the other says, "i'm tired" the sky is overcast and i'm sorry (oh-oh-oh) one more or one less nobody's worried

mowgli's road / MARINA.

you say Y-E-S to everything, will that guarantee you a win? do you think you will be good enough, to love others and to be loved?

beautiful disguise / picture me broken.

the last you felt something from the one who left you bleeding i know how you feel alone lost in a thousand people

yearning for dark shadows / brian d'oliveira.

warm and full i approached an iron steed adorned with gold and I grabbed what I thought was mine mine, mine, mine, mine

letter - from the lost days / akira yamaoka.

hey there to my future-self, if you forget how to smile i have this to tell you, remember it once in a while ten years ago, your past-self prayed for your happiness please don't lose hope.

#kaminarikokyu #main v.#asks.#ooc.#all these songs make me ILL

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es46 · 1 year ago

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Airplaneshipping Prompt - Clothes Shopping

- Compared to most of Skyla's choices, this dress was quite presentable. Silky smooth, black with a series of white lines embedded with glittering beads and slung over one shoulder, complete with flowing skirt. Elesa likes it, turning this way and that to examine herself in front of the mirror. Tight on the waist, but overall form-fitting and silky smooth on her skin. Not bad. The design could do with more contrast, perhaps a cut to the skirt to let one of her legs bare, but not bad. If she went back to blonde, got a different pair of headphones, Elesa thinks she could work this into a charming late-night-party theme. A little blend of casual and sophisticated, well suited for a bar or a suite- "C'mon, Elesa, don't take all day! We don't all age as gracefully as you!" Elesa smiles, chuckles. Impatient as ever, her dear friend. Well, if she's going to perform, she ought to look her best doing it. Reaching into her handbag, Elesa procures eyeliner and a lipstick, applying both tactfully to give herself that perfect dash of shadow, that extra glimmer of pink. Elesa admires herself as she slings the handbag over her bare shoulder before turning to the curtain. She envisions a vast stage and cheering crowds beyond, then steps out with a supermodel's grace. Skyla is sat opposite the booth, phone in hand, and she gasps in delight as Elesa presents herself with a flourish. Clapping one hand to her cheek, she voices her wonder at Elesa's beauty, gibbering for her to strike a pose. Elesa loves the way Skyla's cheeks flush, the bright adoration in her eyes, and laughs as she settles into their routine. Elesa snaps from one to pose to the next; playful, coy, innocent, dramatic. Skyla is delighted, her phone capturing every angle Elesa emphasized as she rapidly chirps requests. "That's it, love the pout! Look at the camera now, smile real nice for me. Ooh, maybe a bit more leg on this next one? Ah, you're so stylish!" Candidly, Elesa does love posing for Skyla. Even if the outfits she picked were garish, it was how Skyla reacted so enthusiastically to her presentation. The way she smiled, laughed, joked around like an amateur photographer, it was sincerely gratifying. Of course, these shopping trips weren't just for Skyla to have fun snapping pics of Elesa in gaudy outfits. Elesa's got some outfits herself for Skyla to try, outfits that make her muse on how good Skyla would look strutting down the catwalk. Gathering her possessions from the booth, Elesa smirks mischievously as she holds up a black bag and waves it before her friend. "Alright, sweetie, your turn. I think you'll like this one, it's got just the flair to really bring out your eyes and match your hair. Daresay it'll have you looking real high-fly!" She expected Skyla to laugh/groan at the pun, but Skyla hesitates. The blush on her cheeks deepening, Skyla's expression goes rather shy as she purses her lips, contemplating. Setting her phone down, Skyla takes a deep breath and reaches into the bag next to her, pulling out a package that she keeps hidden by her side. As Elesa raises an eyebrow enquiringly, Skyla sheepishly elaborates. "Oh, um, thank you, Elesa, but I kinda wanted to try this one on first. I, uh, really think it'll be something special. Do you mind?" "Of course not. I'm sure it'll look dazzling on you." Skyla smiles, but Elesa doesn't miss the odd way her eyes avert their gaze, how her expression seems rather nervous now. Skyla shuffles past her into the booth, quickly closing the curtain behind her, and Elesa takes the time to sit down and ponder.

Not often Skyla got antsy around her. She used to be nervous when they first met, but over time she'd gotten perfectly comfortable around her. Elesa wonders if she'd come on too strong with her poses, or maybe that pun wasn't as good as it could've been. It's not an encouraging thought, potentially making her friend uncomfortable, and Elesa hopes that whatever outfit she's picked would perk her up. A few minutes of solemn contemplation pass, before Elesa perks up when Skyla (rather meekly) calls that she's ready. Setting up her camera, Elesa masks her concerns with a cheerful expression, deciding that whatever the matter was, she'd make as enthusiastic an audience for Skyla as she was for her. "Alright, come out whenever you're ready, sweetie. I'm always keen for a shocking experience!" A little giggle behind the curtain, stuttering ever so slightly. The curtains shift, and Elesa widens her smile in readiness to brighten Skyla's mood. Skyla steps out and- Oh. Elesa goes still. Her expression slacks. Her eyes widen, briefly unable to comprehend what she was looking at. Her hand lowers, as she stares with what can only be wonder. Skyla was gorgeous. Skyla was looking absolutely, heartbreakingly, gorgeous. Elesa had always thought her gorgeous, but had she truly appreciated how much? Maybe Skyla had decided now was the time to show Elesa just how well she could model. The dress Skyla wore was a lavish pink and clung tight to her curves, billowing out from the hips into a long flowery skirt that stopped before the knees. Thin straps lined with elegant ties curled around her shoulders and neck, displaying ample amounts of her skin. Florid patterns lined the dress, culminating in large 'petals' curled around Skyla's chest. She's undone her usual hair bun, letting a loose wave of red frame her face, and Elesa forgets to breathe as she stares, seeing how it emphasizes Skyla's contours... Oh. Skyla's blushing brightly, but the smile she wears is radiant. Looking shyly at Elesa, Skyla carefully lifts her skirt in both hands and twirls, making it flutter around her as she moved. Her hair flows smoothly with the motion, the turn of her body showing off her bare back. Had she always stretched her legs so elegantly? Elesa follows every motion with wonder, unable to think of anything more sophisticated than marvelling at Skyla's beauty. "Do you like it, Elesa?" The soft way Skyla asks breaks Elesa's mesmerised state. She feels like she has to remember herself, to breathe steadily. Elesa looks at Skyla as if her vision had been blurred but now could see clearly. Setting her phone aside, Elesa stands up and slowly steps forward. Skyla waits, cheeks flushed and her eyes imploring as she gazes up at the taller woman. Elesa can't say what compels her, but her hands reach out and gently caress Skyla's cheeks. Skyla trembles, reaching to grasp Elesa's wrists, expression mingled between uncertainty and affection. Feeling her smooth warm skin, Elesa feels like time has halted. Skyla looks so magnificently beautiful. How has Elesa taken so long to truly appreciate how beautiful she was? "I love it." Elesa leans forward on impulse but hesitates, struck by how fast she was going. Breathing deeply, she bites her lip and starts to withdraw- But Skyla's grip tightens. Elesa looks at her, surprised, and Skyla looks back with certainty. She leans forward, and her lips slowly purse. She's so beautiful. Elesa can't believe she's taken so long to appreciate that. Mustering her resolve, Elesa closes her eyes and leans in to meet Skyla. The gentle warmth of her breath brushes over her lips. They move closer, a whisper passing between them. The kiss is short, but it's warm, soothing. Elesa draws back with a newfound sense of awe, and Skyla gazes at her with a shy pleasure. Elesa's hands fall from her cheeks, stroking down her billowing dress, and the tender moment lingers between them. Skyla exhales softly, managing a jovial whisper. "I think I'll buy it then."

#elesa #pokemon black and white #pokemon #airplaneshipping #skyla #pokemon skyla #pokemon elesa #pokemon gym leader #gym leader skyla #gym leader elesa

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